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Peyton dismissed them with a wave of her hand. “I don’t think the pill had a chance to get wet I spat it out so fast. I think I’m okay. I just want to go home.”
“After you file a proper report,” Officer Hunt said. Jordan had almost forgotten that she was there she’d been so quiet, scoping out the rest of the office and taking pictures of things. She’d also called the two partners and owners of the real estate office—Dale Higgins and Ernest Fletcher—who were apparently on their way down to the office since their front door was no longer in working order.
Jordan was sure glad the on-duty cops had been the ones to break the glass and not him. Even though he was a cop, too, he wasn’t a Victoria cop, he was Esquimalt RCMP and off-duty, so things could have gotten muddy.
“I’m going to get a cab and take you two home,” he said, pulling out his phone.
“I live near Royal Jubilee Hospital,” Peyton said. “I can walk.”
The woman was obviously delirious. That was at least a forty-minute walk from where they were, and plus she was alone and it was nighttime. Maybe she did need to get further checked out at the hospital.
“Uh, no, you’re not walking home,” Officer Hunt said. “We’d be happy to drive you home if that will make you feel safer, but we just need to wait for Mr. Higgins and Mr. Fletcher.”
Peyton nodded. “Okay. I’d appreciate that.” She turned to Rayma. “You should go home though, Ray.”
“What?” Rayma said, her tone taking on hints of frustration. “I’m not leaving you.”
Peyton winced. “I’ll be okay. Honestly, I just want to curl up in my bed and forget this even happened.”
“Pey …” Rayma put her hand on Peyton’s shoulder. “I don’t want to leave you.”
“I live with my parents, Rayma, I’ll be fine. Catch a cab home or something, it’s late, and don’t you have volunteering at the women’s shelter tomorrow morning or something?”
Was Rayma still doing her volunteering every Saturday morning? Here he thought she’d just been doing it to help with her social work degree and to get her name out there for future job opportunities. He didn’t expect her to stay on once she graduated and got a job. His heart softened at her altruism and the memory of just how selfless she could be.
“I’ll get her home,” Jordan said. “I’ve already ordered a cab, it should be here in five.”
Rayma glanced at him, but then back at Peyton. “You’ll text me as soon as you get home?”
Peyton nodded and squeezed Rayma’s hand. “I promise. You text me when you get home, too.”
Rayma squeezed her hand back and a tear slipped down her cheek.
“Hey,” Peyton said, “This could have been a million times worse. If it wasn’t for Jordan calling the cops and coming here …” She shuddered.
“You took drugs for me,” Rayma said.
“And I’d do it again. But I’m okay. Totally okay, I promise. Drug-free, not defiled, and incredibly pissed off. I’d say given what could have happened, it’s an okay combination to be.”
Rayma chuckled and tucked a strand of hair behind Peyton’s ear. “Yeah. I guess …”
They finished giving their statements to the police, and just as Jordan and Rayma were getting ready to leave, Dale Higgins and Ernest Fletcher, two men in the latter end of their sixties showed up in a very shiny black Lexus.
Both men held equal expressions of concern but also impatience on their faces, but when they caught sight of Peyton’s face, they were wise enough to drop the impatience.
“We’ll give you whatever you need to find Ethan,” Dale Higgins said, his pale blue eyes darting furiously around everyone’s faces, almost like he was a cat chasing a laser pointer.
“And Rhett?” Officer Hunt probed.
“Well, he didn’t hit her, so—”
"He hit Rayma," Jordan piped up, pointing to the bruise on Rayma's cheek.
“And he was an accomplice and lured the two women here, forced drugs on them, and refused to let them leave. Whether he is guilty of assault or not does not mean he’s not guilty of other things,” Officer Woodward said.
Jordan’s gaze roamed Dale Higgins. His loafers, slacks, and polo were all expensive, as was the watch on his left wrist. Jordan had never been one to pay attention to brands or labels so he couldn’t say what anything was, but he knew the difference between shit and expensive.
He did know cars, though, and that car they pulled up in was worth over a hundred grand. A flush of heat darted up from Dale’s collar into his cheeks. “No need to do any of that. Rhett is a good boy. He just follows Ethan and Ethan is a bad influence.”
