What? No!I shake my head, raising my hand to stop Aiden from talking. “I don’t mean fucking witness relocation. Jeez, I mean with you. Both of you. Just take a timeout for a while. I know it’s not possible, but I was just thinking it’d be nice.”
Both men seem to relax at that. Aiden’s shoulders sinking and Dax’s fist loosening his grip on the bag in his hands. I spy the Butchers and Bakers logo on the front and know there’ll be something tasty inside.
“Then why the frown?” Dax asks as I tiptoe to look in the bag.
“Because reality likes to beat down my daydreams. I can’t even have a nice thought without talking myself out of it.” I choose an almond croissant from the selection and raise it to Dax in acheerssalute.
“We’ll go away as soon as you’re clear. I’ll take you anywhereyou want to go,” he offers.
“Sure,” I mumble around a mouthful of flaky pastry.
“I mean it,” he urges.
I nod and smile despite not giving in to the hope. I won’t hold him to it either. Only a minute ago, he was fighting with Aiden over my bullshit. Dax seemingly doesn’t know where he stands or how he feels on any given day, but I appreciate that he wants to make me happy. “I’d like that. I guess we’d better figure out how to get me clear.”
“We’re working on it,” Aiden adds with a sympathetic smile. The difference between them strikes again. Ever practical, Aiden knows he can’t make promises that rely on shitty people making good decisions. The thought is depressing, and we have bigger things to worry about. Like Sylvie.
“Did the team figure out whether Sylvie was assaulted?” I ask, changing the topic back to her and taking the spotlight off myself.
“She refused a kit,” Dax informs us. “We only have her word that she wasn’t.”
“Why do you ask?” Aiden questions, scrutinising my face as if he can already see what I’m only just beginning to suspect.
“A few things have been bugging me,” I admit.
“Go on,” Aiden presses, pulling out a chocolate croissant and halving it with me.
“Firstly,” I begin, pulling the pastry apart between my fingers. “She attacked me when I woke her. I figured she must have thought I was one of them, but that would suggest it wasn’t the first time she’d been woken abruptly.”
“She woke up and attacked?”
“Actually, she said, ‘They’re mine!’ and attacked. Then she withdrew a little and mumbled Celeste’s name.”
“Jules’s darker hair, perhaps?” Aiden asks Dax. He nods as if he agrees that that is the most logical reason for her confusion.
“So, do you think it was instinctual or a nightmare? Aftershe thought you were Celeste, did she calm down?” Aiden asks, encouraging me to continue.
“Yeah. Though she didn’t seem pleased to see me. There was residue by her glass too. Amphetamines or sleeping tablets?” I ponder aloud. “Were they the reason she might not have known me? Was she even aware of where she was when I woke her?”
“It’s possible. We’re having the residue tested. We’ll know later today what she was given,” Dax clarifies.
“The shower was wet too. At first, I thought she’d showered to remove evidence, but she didn’t have enough time for that. So, who used her shower? Common sense suggests the guy in the towel…”
Aiden nods. “You think he was sleeping in there with her?”
“Yes, or just that he’d been in the room. Sleeping or not,” I agree, hoping to take supposition out of my thinking. I didn’t want to taint my suspicions before I’d considered all the facts. “She was also wearing her own clothes, not naked. Would a rapist be that considerate?”
I glance at both men. Neither can answer that question, but we’re all thinking the same thing. If she had been sexually assaulted, the likelihood of her being allowed to clothe herself at all was slim, though not zero. It seems oddly considerate for ‘attackers’ to let her keep her belongings with her. Not to mention letting her charge her phone…
“Can you recall the image of the room?” Aiden asks.
“I think so.”
“Was the bed dishevelled enough for two people to have slept in it or one?”
“How is she going to remember something as trivial as that, given the situation?” Dax grumbles, unaware of Aiden and my conversation about my memory.
I close my eyes and recall my first recollection of the room. “Two. The blanket was folded back purposefully on the left side. Sylvie was still covered up on the right.”
