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“How do you feel, Chloe?”
She wraps her arm around her frame and tries to blink a tear away. “I don’t know how it got this far or what I did to?—”
Instead of reminding her that she came in here in almost the same condition just four months ago, I proceed with the caution she desperately needs and deserves. “Did you ask him to hit you? To blacken your eye, bloody your nose, leave bruises around your neck, sprain your wrist?”
Her eyes dart around as she answers, “Dinner wasn’t made. The house was a mess. Sometimes, I’m lazy, and he works hard.”
“Chloe,” I say softly, “there isn’t one excuse you could possibly make for him that would make what he did to you okay.”
“My friends—they told me to stay away from him. I didn’t listen to them.”
I watch her try to hold her emotions in.
“I’m so sorry this happened to you.” I reach across the table, carefully observing her eyes as I gently take her hand. She doesn’t flinch, so I squeeze it comfortingly. “You need to file an order of protection this time. That way, he will go to jail if he shows up anywhere you decide to go, including work. The officers can get your belongings from his place and?—”
“Yes,” Chloe states, and it shocks me. Then, she looks up at me with a fierceness in her features that wasn’t there the last time she sat in our exam room. “He needs to pay for this. I’m not going to let him do this to me or any other girl ever again.”
“He does. I’m proud of you for being so brave. Let me go make that call and get you a drink. Dr. Pepper?”
Chin held high, she nods.
“I’ll be right back.”
As soon as the door closes behind me, I take off down the hall to grab my cell phone from the nurses’ station. I immediately dial the police department, wanting to make sure that Chloe doesn’t have enough time to change her mind.
“This is Whitley Belington. Could you send Officer York to Walton Med Center? We have a victim of domestic violence here who is ready to give a statement, and please tell her to hurry.”
After depositing my phone back in my bag, I move to grab Chloe a drink.
“It’s a busy day,” Laurie, —my work bestie/mom— states as I walk into the lounge, headed to the fridge.
“Full moon?” I ask, knowing Laurie fully believes in that theory.
“That’s in five days,” she sighs. “Chloe pressing charges this time?”
I hold up the can of pop I grabbed for her. “She is.”
“Doing the Lord’s work, Whit,” she calls after me as I make my way out of the staff lounge.
I head to the computer to find a way to either get Chloe into the women’s shelter I volunteer at in Hawkins—the next town over—or keep her here for the night to give Walton Police Department enough time to serve his ass.
I shoot off even more emails to shelters in the surrounding area, needing to ensure a spot for her, when I hear Laurie say behind me, “York’s here.”
That was fast, I think as I stand. “I’ll take her in.”
“Thanks, Whit,” she says, sitting down and diving into the pile of paperwork on the desk.
I nod toward room seventeen. “Thanks for getting here so quickly.”
“He needs to learn a lesson. Marks is at the station, waiting for me to give him a call, and he’ll head right over and arrest Spud’s ass.”
“I hope Marks’ in a piss-poor mood.”
York smirks. “Oh, he is.”
When we walk in, Chloe is fully dressed.
Shit, I think as I hand her the pop and act like I don’t know exactly where this is heading. “Officer York is here to take your statement.”
