I go to argue, but he slaps his notebook closed. Apparently, the Q&A session is over.
“Instead of grilling me about a stranger—of which I have zero idea who he is or how he was there—why aren’t you out on the streets, tracking down the person who did this?”
“It would be much easier to do if you’d cooperate, Miss Thompson,” he replies through pursed lips. “It’s very difficult to track someone down with only the description of a knife and dark eyes.”
I straighten myself up in the bed, exerting far more labor than I had anticipated. If it’s a fight he wants, I’m now more than pissed off enough to give it to him.
“Do your job, Detective. I can’t give you any more information than what I've already told you.”
“We’re doing the best we can, Miss Thompson. It can take weeks for the blood evidence to process. And unless the suspect has any priors, it’s like shooting fish in a barrel.”
So that’s it. All I can do is wait and hope this guy doesn’t come knocking on my door again. This is unacceptable. It’s not that I don’t understand what the police department is trying to do, but there has to be some avenue they haven’t thought of yet. There has to be.
“Someone had to have cameras up on their house. It’s the damn suburbs, for goodness’ sake. Do your job, and find him before someone else gets hurt.” My chest heaves with anger, to the point that the pain from my head radiates through my entire body. The blood pressure monitor screams out an alarm, but he just stands there, staring at me like a father scolding his wayward daughter.
“What’s going on here?” my nurse demands as she enters the room. She looks to me, then back to the detective, assessing the tension in the room. “Sir, upsetting my patient is a detriment to her recovery. I think you need to step out of the room and allow Miss Thompson to rest.”
Thank you.
He stomps out of the room without a word, slamming the door behind him. It echoes off the walls for a few seconds after he leaves.
“That’s better,” she says with a smile. “I could hear him yelling at you from the nurse’s station.”
“He was a real peach, let me tell ya,” I mutter, shifting painfully on the paper-thin mattress underneath me. ”He could use some refresher training when it comes to interviewing a victim.”
I shift again, trying to get comfortable, but it isn’t going to happen. This hospital bed and I are not compatible. I’d heard about how awful they were, but experiencing the feeling of every spring poking into my ass for myself is a different story. These beds are cotton covered cement slabs with zero give or comfort to them.
“Your friend out in the waiting didn’t seem to like him either,” she implies, moving over to the computer.
“My friend?”
She grins. “Mr. Tall, Dark, and Brooding out in the waiting room.”
I frown. “I don’t know who you’re talking about.”
“Well, whoever he is, it’s a shame he left. The nurses out at the reception area didn’t mind the view.”
“Left?” Not that I care about the comings and goings of a complete stranger, but between the asshole detective and the nurses talking about him, I have to admit, they’ve piqued my curiosity.
“Sure did,” she utters as she types away. “As soon as the detective arrived, he and all of his friends booked it out of here.”
His friends? Who is this guy? And why does he have an entourage with him? It’s troubling, for sure, but my heart still drops. He’s gone without so much as a visit to see me. Why stay out there all this time and not come in? None of it makes sense. He could’ve at least stuck around long enough for me to thank him.
“I do have good news, though,” the nurse says, shaking me from my unexpected heartache. “Dr. Malic is liking your numbers, and barring any unexpected complications, you should be getting out of here in the morning.”
Going home. My stomach drops a second time. I should be excited—ecstatic, really—save for the fact that the person responsible is still out there. The news had already reported the victim of the attack had survived. So what’s stopping him from coming back to finish the job? Maybe staying here a bit longer isn’t so bad after all… well, if it weren’t for Jinx. Damn cat.
The nurse shuffles around the room a few minutes more before she leaves again, advising the police guards at my door to allow me to rest for a few hours. She must be kidding if she thinks I’m going to sleep with the turmoil going on inside my head. There’s too much to process. Do I stay there, or pack up Jinx and head to a hotel? A hotel would be safer, but costly. I’m not exactly rolling in cash without having someone to help pay the bills. And it’s doubtful they’ll be lining up to rent a spare room in the now almost murder house.
The rest of the afternoon trickles by slowly. It’s not until after dinner that a new detective takes over, standing guard outside my door as if I’m a common criminal waiting to go back to jail instead of being the victim. At least this officer agreed to ask one of the patrolmen protecting my house to check on my cat. I failed to mention Jinx’s temperament, but they’ll figure it out soon enough if they try to pick her up.
I probably shouldn’t have left that part out.
GreenPeace
Four hospitals, two days, and nothing. Not one single person has gone to the emergency room for a dog bite. And nothing for concussions, except for a couple of rowdy teenage football players. Which means we have nothing to go on. We still have no clue who this motherfucker is, and Blair has officially been out of the hospital for twenty-four hours.
The worst part of all this is, it’s been surprisingly difficult to stay away from her. We’ve never even had a conversation, but for some reason, I can’t get the gorgeous redhead out of my mind. I feel protective of her—possessive, even—and the idea of her being unprotected while that son of a bitch is still out there has me on edge in a way I’m just not familiar with.
“Just one man,” I say, my fists curled in frustration. “Have him stay close enough to jump in, but far enough away she’ll never know he’s there.”
Judge eyes me while he thinks over my request. “What is it about this girl? Why her?”
I’ve asked myself that same question over and over again, and have yet to come up with an answer that makes any sort of sense. “I don’t know, man. I just feel she should be protected, ya know? Isn’t that what we do?”
Judge crosses his arms over his chest, making his muscled biceps bulge. “Not fair, man. You know any one of the Black Hoods would lay his life down for someone who can’t fight back, but we already have a mission. Those slimy fucks running the dog fights around here are back. They’re bad news.”
I glance down at Walter, who sits beside me, watching as if he’s part of the conversation. The scar on his face and his missing eye came from a fight these same men had forced him in to. Catching them has been all I’ve thought about for months, until now.
“So, we only do one good deed at a time, then?”
Judge’s face turns hard as stone. “What we’re in to right now, GP? It’s big time. You know it, and I know it. We can’t turn back now, or we’ll never put an end to these dog fights. And as for your girl, she’s not your fucking girl. She has the cops involved. She has friends. Likely family. She’s not alone. Shit will get handled without our help. We can’t go getting involved in every little thing that happens in this town.”