Regretfully, a more in-depth perusal doesn’t alter the facts. It is as Officer Packwood stated. Not a single orange pill can be seen. Shards of the canister are sprayed across the carpet, and the knife my attacker knocked off the dresser before I could reach it, but not a single tablet of oxycodone can be found.
“P-Perhaps the second perp took them with him?”
Officer Packwood raises a dark brow. “Why would he do that, Demi?”
“I don’t know,” I reply, truly unsure. “Perhaps you should ask him once y-you arrest him.” That’s my polite way to say he should concentrate his efforts on the men who did this to me instead of the victim. This is my impolite way. “Why are you here interrogating me?Twomen assaulted me. Only one was gunned down for his stupidity.”
Don’t let the confidence in my voice fool you. I feel sick to my stomach knowing I ended another man’s life, but I’m not going to let someone like Officer Packwood make me feel bad about what I did.
I did what needed to be done.
There’s no shame in that.
Officer Packwood doesn’t look happy about my response, but I don’t care. I owe him nothing. “My job requires me to interview victims of sexual crimes.”
“Sexual crimes?” I double-check, certain I heard him wrong. When he nods, proving otherwise, I blubber out, “I wasn’t… T-They didn’t…”
When words elude me, Officer Packwood fills them in. “You have trauma that indicates your ‘assault’ was of a sexual nature.” While air quoting ‘assault,’ he acts as if he can’t see the rapid shake of my head. “Bruising to your inner thighs. Grab marks on your face, neck, wrists, and breasts.” He briefly licks his lips before continuing, “Traces of semen and blood were also documented during a preliminary examination of the crime scene—”
“He didn’t rape me,” I interrupt, my voice higher than intended but thankfully free of the annoying stutter I seem to have developed overnight. “He didn’t get the chance.”
“So he tried?” This question didn’t come from Officer Packwood. It came from the medic watching our exchange from the side.
After pulling down on the long-sleeve shirt someone must have slipped over my head after carrying me out of the back of Roxanne’s car, I lift my chin. It quivers when I advise, “To begin with, I didn’t realize that was his intention. I thought he was there to kill me.” My last two words are barely mumbles. “When I realized what he was doing, I-I… ah…”
“Protected yourself?” the female medic fills in, stealing the words from my mouth.
I nod again.
“I can’t put down self-defense,” Officer Packwood pushes out with a huff. “Victims reach out for help. They call 9-1-1. You did neither of those things. You just sat there with a dead man in your house for three days.”
“Because I was scared what would happen to me, that I-I’d be treated the way you’re treating me now.” When I stand to my feet, Max copies my movements. His nerves are already on edge. One misconstrued signal will see Officer Packwood attacked as vehemently as the first assailant in my kitchen. Although I’m tempted to use Max to wipe the arrogance from his face, I can’t. Instead, I demand a lawyer.
“That isn’t necessary.”
Despite the command in his tone demanding otherwise, I stand my ground. “I’m not s-speaking to you without a lawyer present.”
“That’s your cue to leave,” the paramedic says to Officer Packwood. “My patient has rights, not to mention the fact she is clearly suffering from a grade-three concussion and many other injuries I’ve yet to put a name on. Now isnotthe time to interrogate her.”
Not waiting for him to answer her, she marches Officer Packwood to the door, pushes him over the threshold, then she slams the door into his face. I’d give her an encouraging pat on the back for a job well done if I could get my woozy head to cooperate with the screams of my lungs. They’re heaving in desperation, as windless and empty as the gaping cavity in my chest where my heart once stood.
I’m on the verge of hyperventilating, and the medic seems well-versed on this level of stress. “Nice calm breaths for me, Demi. In via your nose, out via your mouth.” She keeps me upright by circling her hands around my elbows. Her hold isn’t rough, but I’m no longer worried about falling. “Slow your breathing down a little. I know you think you’re not getting enough air, but I assure you, you are. In and out. Nice and steady.”
After studying the soothing movements of her lips for another oxygen-quenching three breaths, I raise my eyes to hers. My brows pull together more in confusion than panic I’m about to suffocate to death when the familiarity of her eyes smack into me. I’ve seen them before. I’m certain of it.
“Y-you’re—”
“A nurse yesterday. A medic today,” she fills in with a smile. “Who knows what I’ll be tomorrow?”
I suck in another prolonged breath before replying, “From what Maddox t-told me, a career pickpocketer wouldn’t be an overstretch.”
Agent Machini, the only surviving female member of agent Brahn’s Florida division, throws her head back and laughs. “I would have preferred for him to gloat about my motorbike racing skills, but I guess beggars can’t be choosers.”
I don’t get the chance to bask in the warmth her comment instigates. I’m too busy reeling about the reason for her undercover assignment smacking into me to let an old saying force sentimental tears into my eyes. “I can’t go with you. I-I refuse to leave Maddox to face this craziness alone.”
She doesn’t try to deny my claims she’s here to reinstate Agent Brahn’s earlier ruse. “It’s time, Demi. If we don’t move now, if we don’t use this assault to our advantage, we will lose the opportunity. You and Maddox will be stuck here for eternity.”
“That isn’t true. There a-are options. We just need to look harder.”
