by M. S. Parker
“Do you want me to call a lawyer?”
I loved that he asked rather than just doing it. “Let's see what they want first. Maybe they're looking for someone to do some firewall work for them.”
“Maybe.” Rylan's fingers tightened around mine for a moment, then he released my hand as the elevator doors opened.
The man who stepped into the office looked to be in his late forties. Dark hair with little streaks of silver. A serious expression was on his face, but he didn't look like he was angry or anything like that. I also didn't see handcuffs or anything that looked like an arrest warrant, so that was good.
“Miss Lang?” he asked. “I'm Agent Matthews with the FBI.” He held out a hand.
“Nice to meet you.” I shook his hand, then gestured at Rylan. “This is Rylan Archer.”
“Mr. Archer.” Agent Matthews shook Rylan's hand, then turned his attention back to me. “Can we talk?” Judging by the glance he sent in Rylan's direction, the agent wanted the discussion to be private.
Our eyes met, a silent exchange going between us. I knew Rylan was concerned about why the FBI was here and worried about me facing it alone, but I also knew that he would leave it up to me if he stayed or not.
“Would you mind if we used your office?” I asked. “It's a bit more private than mine.”
“No problem.” Rylan stuck his hands in his pockets and gave the agent and me both the same professional smile. “I have a few errands to run.” He gave me one last look and I caught a glimpse of concern that went beyond employer employee.
Agent Matthews waited until the elevator doors closed behind Rylan before turning to me. I motioned to a pair of chairs at the conference table – at the end opposite of where Rylan and I had just been. We both sat and I crossed my ankles, suddenly overly aware of how wet my panties were.
“Miss Lang,” Agent Matthews began. “I'm here about Christophe Constantine.”
I froze. My heart thudded painfully in my chest and I could barely breathe. Christophe. I suddenly wished I hadn't told Rylan to go. He was the only one who could truly understand what Christophe meant to me. I'd told the cops the whole truth and my statement could be read by anyone involved in the case, but even if Agent Matthews had read every word I'd said, he couldn't really get it. I didn't need Rylan here to protect me, but I couldn't deny that I would have liked to have his arms around me, or his hand in mine for whatever it was Agent Matthews would tell me. It had to be something serious or the FBI would've just called.
“Miss Lang?” The agent sounded concerned.
“Yes?” My voice was thin and I hated myself for it. I cleared my throat. “You said you're here about Christophe.” Much better this time.
“I am.”
“I wasn't aware the FBI was involved in the case.” I twisted my fingers together until my knuckles turned white. “I thought it was Fort Collins Police jurisdiction.”
“It is,” Agent Matthews said. “Or, rather, it was.”
I didn't like the sound of that and I frowned. I'd be polite, but I wasn't going to let him think I was okay with the direction I thought this conversation was taking.
“When the FCPD started collecting their information, they ran names they found in his computer as well as names of those involved with the media confiscated from Mr. Constantine.”
I swallowed hard, grateful I hadn't eaten breakfast that morning. The way my stomach was churning, I doubted I could've kept myself from being sick. Christophe had names of people, people who hurt kids the way I'd been hurt, people who enjoyed seeing kids hurt.
“One of those names triggered something in our system and we stepped in. Since the child pornography he owned crossed state lines, we can technically prosecute him on a federal level and we've worked with the FCPD to take over the kidnapping, assault and attempted rape charges as well.”
“Agent Matthews,” I interrupted. “I don't understand why this makes a difference to me. I can testify for a federal case just as easily as I can for local. I don't need to know all of the reasons why.”
He studied me for a moment, as if trying to figure out what to say next.
And then it hit me. I knew why he was here, why he was explaining to me how my case came to the FBI's attention.
“You want to cut a deal with him.”
I leaned back into my chair, feeling as if the air had gone out of my lungs.
Agent Matthews nodded and I was at least grateful that he wasn't going to try to sugarcoat it.
“We would like to offer Mr. Constantine a deal in exchange not only for testimony for the names we already have, but also to get new names, have him make contact with people.”
I didn't need Agent Matthews to explain how the child pornography business worked. I may have only been a kid, but I'd heard enough to know that referrals were the only way anyone new was ever allowed into the group. Without Christophe to make introductions, the FBI could take months to get the same people. If they ever did. The people who did these things were careful. It had taken my mother almost thirteen years to get caught and it had been under similar circumstances. The entire system was a huge game of six degrees of separation.
“Ry – Mr. Archer had done a background check on Christophe but nothing popped up. And Christophe...” The words almost stuck in my throat. “He told me that it was only...those videos that he watched. How many names could he give you?”
“Well, two of the names on his computer are ones we've been trying to get to for years. They're high up in a distribution ring that specializes in brutal scenarios. The things their clients do...” His voice trailed off and there were a few minutes of silence before he shook his head and spoke again, “You couldn't imagine.”
I stared at him, wondering if he was really that stupid or if he'd just spoken without thinking.
“Oh, shit.” The professional mask slipped and I could see him realize what he'd just said and who he'd said it to. “I'm sorry, Miss Lang. I didn't think–”
“You're not usually the person who goes to talk to the victims, are you?” I asked. I tried making my tone light, but it didn't work very well. “Because you suck at it.”
He gave me a wry smile, the first real expression I'd seen on his face. “You're right. On both counts. I'm the smart one. The nice one called in sick today.”
I gave him a partial smile to let him know I appreciated the candor. “Okay, now tell me why you're here and not just working with the powers that be to make this happen.”
He raised an eyebrow. “I heard you were smart.”
“I am,” I said. “But that's not why you're here.”
“No,” he said. “It's not. The FCPD and the ADA actually weren't that thrilled that we wanted the case.” He glanced towards the elevator. “They seemed to think that Mr. Archer wouldn't be pleased if they handed things over for a plea deal.”
I kept my face blank and my voice even. “Well, he was assaulted by Christophe too.”
Agent Matthews gave me a shrewd look. “I think we both know that's not the reason he's being so adamant about this case.”
I didn't respond. My love life had no bearing on the case.
He sighed. “Basically, they want to cover their asses.” He reached into his jacket and pulled out a folded piece of paper. “They want you to sign this.”
I opened the paper and skimmed it, appreciating the fact that Agent Matthews had let me read it rather than just telling me what was in it. It seemed pretty straightforward. I was giving the FBI permission to negotiate a deal on the charges associated with my case in exchange for Christophe's cooperation in taking down other pedophiles.
I looked up at the agent. “I have a question.”
He nodded and motioned for me to continue.
“I get how important it is to get these other people. Believe me.” I set the paper on the table. “But Christophe can also hurt people.”
“We'll have a restraining order in place for both you and Mr. Archer. Mr. Constantine won't be allow
ed within a thousand feet of either of you.”
I shook my head. “I'm not worried about me. I don't want him hurting anyone else.”
Agent Matthews nodded. “He'll be registered as a sex offender and required to go to therapy, no matter what deal we make. Those and the restraining orders are non-negotiable.” He leaned forward slightly, his voice lowering. “And if he violates the restraining order...” His voice trailed off as he sat back. He had a pleased smile on his face as he waited for me to figure it out.
When I did, I had to admit, that was a pretty good idea. Someone like Christophe, obsessive and driven, wouldn't give up what he wanted. He might be able to restrain himself for a while, especially with the threat of jail hanging over him if he violated the order, but eventually, he'd give in. As soon as I saw him, all I'd have to do is call the cops and that would be it. He'd be in violation of the order, and whatever probation or parole he'd been given in his deal. Straight to jail. No more passing Go. Everyone would win.
“All right,” I said. I took the pen the agent offered me and signed at the bottom of the paper. “Just make sure that bastard gives you everything he's got.”
Agent Matthews smiled grimly as he pocketed the paper. “Don't worry, Miss Lang. I will. I'm not giving up anything easily.”
We shook hands and he left. As the elevator doors closed behind him, I sank back down into the chair and closed my eyes. Mixed emotions churned inside me. Hope that the FBI could save others like me. Familiar anger and betrayal at a system that had to compromise. Fear that Christophe would somehow hurt someone else, hurt me. And, mixed in with all of that, always mixed in, were the memories that thinking about him triggered.
I barely registered the elevator doors opening, or the footsteps coming towards me. I jumped when a hand touched my arm, pulling away even as I opened my eyes.
“It's okay, Jenna. It's just me.” Rylan crouched in front of me, concern on his face. “What happened?”
I managed a weak smile and saw a flicker of relief on his face. “I'm alright.”
“What did Agent Matthews want?” He pulled a chair closer so that he could hold my hands.
“The FBI's taking over Christophe's case,” I said. “They want to cut a deal in exchange for his testimony and connections.”
“No.” Rylan shook his head emphatically. “They can't do that. Not after what he did...what he almost did.” He started to stand. “I'm calling the DA.”
“Sit.” I tugged on his hands. “Did you say something to the cops or the district attorney about the case?”
A faint flush stained his cheeks, answering my question without a word. Still, he answered, “I may have mentioned that I wouldn't be happy if Christophe didn't get as much time as he possibly could.” He met my eyes, a stubborn set to his jaw. “And they're going to hear it–”
“They came to ask me to sign off on it,” I interrupted. I smiled at him. “The Fort Collins DA wasn't going to let the FBI take the case if I didn't agree.”
“You didn't, though, right?” He edged forward in his seat until our knees were touching. “I mean, you told them to go to hell because there's no way that monster deserves a deal.”
“He doesn't,” I agreed. “But, Rylan, they think they can catch two major players, and who knows how many smaller ones.”
He raised a hand to gently brush over the cut on my cheek. “He hurt you.” His normally strong voice nearly cracked.
I nodded. “He did. But he can help stop people who are hurting a lot of other kids in a lot of worse ways.”
“You agreed to let them cut a deal with him,” Rylan said and sighed.
“You're upset.”
“No, love.” He leaned forward, cupping my face in his hands. “Not with you. Never with you.” His lips brushed across my mouth and he rested his forehead against mine. “I just hate that you have to sacrifice your justice so the FBI can do their job.”
“They don't have a choice, Rylan. It's the way things work. Besides, if it saves even one kid from having to go through what I went through, it's worth it.”
His eyes blazed as they met mine. “If he comes near you again though, I'll kill him myself.”
I put my hand on his cheek. “It'll be okay,” I reassured him. “Agent Matthews promised that we'll both have restraining orders against Christophe, and if he violates them, his deal's gone.”
“I don't give a damn about a piece of paper, Jenna.” Rylan's voice was rough. “I'm going to do whatever it takes to keep you safe. If Christophe violates the order, he won't have to worry about prison.”
He pulled me towards him and I went eagerly. As he held me on his lap, I relaxed against his chest and let everything inside me melt away. Neither of us cared that we were at work. All that mattered was the comfort between us. I knew that what I'd done would hit me harder later on, after I had the time to process it. But at the moment, I was glad I made the choice I had. No matter how much I wanted Christophe to pay for what he'd done, I wanted to save others more. If this was a way I could help, then so be it.
Chapter 21
“Don't look away!” he snapped, grabbing my chin and forcing my face back towards the screen. “You were such a good girl.”
My stomach churned, bile rising in my throat as he kept talking, kept asking all the questions he'd thought up over the years.
“Did you like taking the men one after the other, or was it better to get them two at a time?”
He asked it the same way he'd asked what my favorite color was.
“It hurt either way,” I answered. I'd told him I wouldn't lie.
He nodded. “Because they weren't your prince. If you're meant to be with someone, it always feels good.” His hand dropped to his crotch and he rubbed the erection growing there. “I wouldn't have let anyone else have you,” he said. His words took on a thoughtful tone. “I'm sure there are toys that'll let me do things without bringing in someone else.”
I kept my face blank and tried not to see or hear the video playing. I was pretty sure this was a new one since there was only one man, but that didn't make it any easier to watch. I didn't always remember every single encounter since there were times I'd been drugged, and others had been so tame that they'd faded behind the more brutal ones. This guy, I remembered though.
He liked to talk and watch. He always insisted on a mirror so we could both see what he was doing to me.
He wore a mask, like so many of the men in the videos did. His was a ski mask and the only thing he had on besides a condom.
I fixed my eyes on a spot above the tv to make it look like I was watching, but not seeing the images on the screen didn't help at all. The man narrated everything, telling me to look at my face when he entered me. He talked about my breasts, my skin, naming each part he touched and telling me what he liked, asking me what I wanted him to do. Of course, I didn't tell him to let me go. All that would've gotten me would've been a slap or a pinch. Plus my mom would've been pissed after.
He pulled on my hair, yanking my head up so I was watching when he shoved his fingers in my ass. I yelled but only because he wanted me to. I knew that what was coming next would hurt worse, and then I'd be screaming for real. The other thing he always did was finish in my ass.
“This one isn't one of my favorites,” Christophe confided. “He takes your princess gown off too soon. I think he should have left it on the whole time. You look so pretty in your gown.”
I jerked awake with a gasp. My heart was racing, my pajamas damp with sweat. I leaned forward, drawing my knees up to my chest as I concentrated on slowing my breathing. The light from the bathroom bathed my bedroom in dim light, not enough to keep me from sleeping, but enough that I could see. I'd been sleeping with it on since my first night back after the incident with Christophe.
I ran my hand through my hair and swore softly. It wasn't enough that I was forced to relieve the horrors of my childhood in my nightmares, but now he was there. Ever since I'd agreed to let the FBI deal with Christop
he, I'd been having nightmares about what had happened. The movies he'd forced me to watch, the questions he'd asked. The dress he'd made me wear. His touch. Cutting my face. Sometimes the memories turned into the what-might-have-been and he raped me. Sometimes he killed Rylan in front of me and I woke up screaming.
Every night this week, I'd had a nightmare, woken, then fallen back asleep only to have a new one. I hadn't gotten more than an hour or two of actual sleep since Monday. Rylan was worried about me, I knew, but I didn't want to tell him what was going on. He hadn't liked that I'd given the FBI permission to deal, and I had no doubt that my nightmares would solidify in his mind that I hadn't made the right decision. Not that there was really anything I could do about it now, but I knew him. If I expressed the least bit of doubt, he'd be on the phone to the Fort Collins district attorney, using whatever influence he had to change things.
I loved him for wanting to protect me, but I knew this was something I had to deal with myself. In the back of my head, I could hear Lily telling me that wasn't true. Aside from Rylan, she'd been the only person I'd ever truly trusted. I'd trusted my therapist enough to talk about what had happened, but only because Lily had assured me that everything I'd said to the doctor would be confidential. It was a lot different trusting someone professionally than it was personally.
A stab of grief and loneliness went through me. I'd been only fifteen when Lily had died, but in those two years, she'd been more like a mother to me than my own ever had. She had been the one who'd rescued me even though there had been other cops present. The others had turned away in embarrassment and disgust when they'd seen me on my hands and knees in that basement. She'd taken off her jacket and wrapped it around me. She'd sat with me while the paramedics got me bundled up.
Things for me had gotten bad again after she'd been killed and only the thought of what she would've said if I'd committed suicide had kept me from doing it. Over time, the grief had faded, but there were occasions when it came back as sharp and painful as it had been right after the murder.