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There were several movie theaters in the greater Salem area. “Where?”
“The theater right off I-5, north of downtown.”
Skye felt sick to her stomach. She and Mac had gone to a late movie Wednesday because they’d both been off duty Thursday. At that exact theater.
And Trent Calderon knew it.
“Is she okay? Let me help. Please. I’m trained to interview sexual assault victims. Please.”
She was begging, but she didn’t care.
“I can’t,” Brian said. “I shouldn’t have even called you, but I wanted you to hear it from me. She’s alive, but it’s bad. Really bad.”
XIII.
Trent was on top of the world.
He had refueled himself and waited outside the naughty girl’s home. This would be dangerous, it would be risky, but he was ready. Because everything worth having was both dangerous and exciting.
They thought they could entrap him. They thought he was stupid.
They would both pay.
XIV.
Skye was woken from a restless sleep by Lieutenant Garcia. No good calls come after midnight, and this was the second to come tonight. It was four in the morning.
“Officer James was attacked in her apartment,” he said. “She’s at the hospital.”
Skye immediately jumped out of bed and slipped into her shoes. “What happened?”
“I don’t have details yet, but her neighbor said she heard a scream early this morning and called nine-one-one. She knocked on the door, heard what sounded like a fight. She had a key, went in, and saw a man exiting through the balcony. We have cops all over the scene.”
“Is Maggie okay?”
“I don’t know. I’m on my way to the hospital now.”
“I’ll meet you there.”
Skye arrived only minutes after Garcia.
Maggie wasn’t okay. The doctors wouldn’t let her or Garcia in to see her. Twenty minutes passed, then Maggie’s boyfriend, a firefighter in Portland, rushed into the emergency waiting area. Skye had met him once; by the fear and anger on his face, he knew what she and Maggie had been doing.
The three of them waited for news in silence.
Another thirty minutes had passed before the doctor came out to talk to them. Maggie had been severely beaten and stabbed multiple times. The knife didn’t hit any major organs, but she had a ruptured spleen and broken jaw. He and his staff collected trace evidence, but the attacker wore gloves. They knew this because leather fibers were found in her teeth.
“Calderon,” Skye said under her breath.
Maggie’s boyfriend scowled at her and walked away.
Garcia turned to her, his dark eyes pained but unyielding. “What did you do?”
Calderon knew where Maggie lived. He knew her boyfriend wouldn’t be there because he worked three days on, four days off in Portland. If it wasn’t for her neighbor, Maggie would be dead.
Skye promised to have her back. But when Maggie needed her, she wasn’t there.
She told Garcia everything.
