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Where the hell was that sensitivity now?
Harris shifted closer to me, and I had to fight not to cringe away. "I know this is hard. Just take your time and explain it to me as best you can. Every detail you can recall. Details are very important. Crucial in a case like this, if you actually want us to catch the culprit. You want that, right?"
I just froze, staring down at my hands. I did not want to go over it all again, and certainly not here.
"Here, let me try this again," he said gently. "I'll start with some questions, so it's less daunting, okay?"
I glanced at him and he smiled again. He had a great smile framed by an even greater face. His teeth were straight and white, his features even and handsome, his skin olive-toned, his eyes deep set and so dark that his pupils blended seamlessly into his irises.
I studied him closely for the first time.
He didn't look like a small town cop. He looked like a hard as nails sexy cop from a TV show.
Even so, I didn't want to be alone in a small space with him. And I particularly didn't want to tell him what had happened to me in detail.
Mostly what I wanted was to be left alone for a very long time.
But I wanted the creep that'd attacked me to be caught most of all. I didn't want to be scared every time I took a walk by myself, if I could ever bring myself to walk alone again.
"Okay," I finally said, looking back down at my lap.
"Did the man penetrate you?"
I jerked at the word, bewildered eyes flying back to his face. "N-n-no," I finally and with great effort got out.
"What did he do?"
I touched the back of my skull, eyes aimed at my lap. "I didn't see him coming. Something hard hit the back of my head—a rock, I guess?—and then he pinned me on my stomach. His arms reached around me, and he was trying to take off my jeans. He was clumsy and out of breath, strong, but he couldn't get the button undone. His mouth was at my ear. His whole . . . body was on my back. I always thought he was skinny, but he was so heavy on my back."
"Don't stop," Detective Harris said when I'd paused for too long. "Continue."
"He kept trying, for a while to get the button open, and while he did that he was . . . grinding against me."
"Where was he grinding on you? And what exactly was he grinding against you?"
I was red with shame. This retelling was even more embarrassing than the first one, which had been horrible.
"My . . . butt."
"Stand up, turn around, and show me where exactly."
My bewildered eyes shot to his.
His eyes were apologetic. "I know it's embarrassing, but it's for the case. I need to work through every detail. Exhaustively. The more you cooperate, the more likely it is that the D.A. will have a good case against this guy once we catch him."
I was shaking as I stood and turned. I wished I'd worn something other than short cutoffs, but I hadn't been expecting a detective at my door.
I pointed to the spot on my butt then quickly sat down.
He was watching me, studying me so relentlessly that I couldn't look at his eyes.
"And what did he grind there, right against your asshole?"
My eyes shot back up to him at that. My shame and bewilderment working together to nip at my volatile temper.
What the hell was wrong with this cop? Was he trying to embarrass me?
"Answer the question, Scarlett."
