"Oh your mouth is posion, your mouth is wine

You think your dreams are the same as mine
Oh I don't love you, but I always will"
The Civil Wars

It took an hour to get the paperwork processed.

The whole time Jon paced back and forth impatiently as the seconds trickled past. Each one could mean one of those kid’s lives.

So why the hell was he waiting to get the warrant to bring Bartholomew James in for questioning? They had enough on him to do so without it. They should act now, apologise later.

He felt a reassuring hand on his shoulder and turned to see his partners calm face. Isaiah seemed to have aged in the last two days, as though this case was literally sucking the life out of him.

Jon could only assume that he looked the same. If not worse.

“Calm down, Jon.”

“I can’t. Each minute that goes by-,”

“I know,” Isaiah cut him off before he could finish a sentence neither of them needed to hear. “But we have to wait.”

By the time they got the warrant, one lousy sheet of paper that could change everything, Jon was ready to explode. He snatched it out of the clerks hand and stormed through the station. He was walking so fast he almost missed the flash of red hair belonging to the man he was about to go and find.

Bartholomew James stood up from where he was seated on the fold out chairs. He walked towards the two detectives slowly and reluctantly, as though he was heading to his own execution.

“My name is-,” he faltered for a second before standing up straighter and starting again. “My name is Bartholomew James. I’ve come to confess.”

Bartholomew fidgeted in his chair, tapping his foot on the floor of the interview room.
“I suggest you start talking. Now.” Detective Cartwright said, his eyes narrowing in impatience.

“Anna came into my life when I was at my lowest point.” He felt as though he needed to give them the back story. He wanted them to understand why he did what he did. He had been blinded by love, lost in the affection of a woman he knew was too good for him.

“I couldn’t believe it when she showed interest in someone like me. I should have known.” Bartholomew ran a finger around his collar, feeling as though it was choking him. Or maybe it was his confession that was doing that.

“She came up with this idea-,”

“We know about the serum, Bartholomew. Get to the point please.” Detective Cartwright placed both hands on the table in front of him, glaring at Bartholomew with pure hatred.

“Time is crucial, Mr James.” Detective Sanders said, casting a glance at his partner.

“You may know about the serum. But you don’t know everything. You don't know the reasons behind it. How Anna turned out this way.” Bartholomew looked at the tape recorder on the table, the red light blinking up at him, a reminder of what he was about to do.

“Anna grew up in a trailer park. She hated her life. Her father was non-existent. Her mother was an addict that would do anything for money. She spent most nights alone. She wanted more for herself, she wanted to be known. To go down in history.”

“What does this have to do with those kids?” Isaiah asked.

“It has everything to do with the kids. She created Phobia but when she approached Mr Stevens for funding for test subjects he turned her down. She snapped, it was like she became a different person. She wouldn’t let it go, wouldn’t even look for another job. All she talked about was Phobia. It got to the point where she was about to be evicted. I started paying for her rent.”

Bartholomew felt tears begin to prick his eyes. He had been so foolish to believe she had ever cared about him. In reality, all she had done was use him.

“I swear, I had no idea what she was planning. Her visits became less and less frequent. And when I did see her all she would talk about was how someday she was going to become a legend. That the world would know her name.”

“The kids, Mr James.” Isaiah interrupted.

“When you came to me yesterday I was determined to protect her at all costs, no matter what she had done. Isn’t that what you do for the people you love? And then, this morning, a man came in to Hillhurst Pharmaceuticals. He was screaming and shouting about his child, Aaron. He was so... broken. Anna did that to him.”

Bartholomew could keep the tears at bay no longer. He let out a strangled sob, his shoulders shaking with the weight of guilt.

“I should have known. I should have come forward yesterday. I’m so sorry.”

“Mr James, are you Anna’s benefactor?”

“No.”

Bartholomew could see the shock on both of the detectives’ faces. They had really believed that he had been the one to fund Anna’s little experiment. He wasn’t. He didn’t have the money to do that. But he was still just as much of an accomplice.

“Do you know who is?” Detective Cartwright asked, his fists now clenched tightly at his sides.

Bartholomew shook his head. He had no idea who Anna got the money from, he could only assume it was someone close to her. How many men had she fooled into helping her?

“But,” Bartholomew licked his lips, his throat suddenly feeling very dry. “I think I know where she is. My family has an old farmhouse at the edge of town. It’s been abandoned for years, too expensive to fix up. She always seemed very curious about it.”

The Detectives immediately jumped into action. Detective Sanders left the room, his phone already attached to his ear as he made a call. Detective Cartwright rummaged in his pockets for a pen, finding one and handing it to Bartholomew.

“I need that address, now.”

Bartholomew nodded at the Detective's request, scribbling something down on the piece of paper he was handed before passing it back.

“There’s one more thing, Detective.”

Bartholomew glanced at the door, wishing Detective Sanders had come back. Detective Cartwright was impulsive and Bartholomew could see the rage bubbling just below his skin.

He would go to jail for this. He knew he would. What he was about to say implicated him in Anna's crimes. He may not have been the one who abducted the kids, but he had essentially loaded a gun and placed it in Anna's hand.

“The serum, Phobia? I helped Anna create it. She used my notes, my access to the chemicals here."

Detective Cartwright stilled, clearly not expecting that particular confession. He came around the table and stood directly in front of Bartholomew.

“If anything has happened to any of those kids, you will answer to me, do you understand?”

Bartholomew swallowed. He remembered the look on Aaron's father's face. The tale of the little boy who caught butterflies. The way the man had crumpled in on himself when no one came to his aid.

He had no doubt that the detective meant what he said. But Bartholomew knew he deserved whatever was coming to him. If anything had happened to those kids, he would never forgive himself. He could have stopped it and now, it might be too late.

Why had it taken a broken father to open Bartholomew's eyes? To knock off the blinkers that Anna had created when she wove herself into his life?

His love for Anna had been an inescapable cage. It held him in place, prevented him from doing the right thing. Now that he had managed to free himself, he would be thrown into a different sort of confinement.

He could almost hear the lock clicking already. Sealing his fate.

“Trust me, Detective, you can’t hate me more than I hate myself.”

“I can try.” Detective Cartwright straightened and smoothed down his shirt. He raised his voice slightly, “Bartholomew James, I am placing you under arrest. A constable will be through shortly to read you your rights.”

With that, he left the room, slamming the door behind him and leaving Bartholomew alone with his thoughts.

He used to think he was the luckiest man on earth to have caught the attention of a woman like Anna Baker. Now, he realised that Anna had sucked him into a deep pit of darkness.

And there was no way out.