WhenI reached the point in my tale that I had to describe my attacker’s sexual arousal, Finn’s grip grew dangerously tight. I could tell, without even a glance in his direction, that he was waging an internal battle to keep his composure – warring with his instincts to lash out in rage. He somehow managed to remain silent so I could finish giving my statement. The policemen listened with stony faces, their expressions hardened by years of experience with victims whose fates were far worse than my own.
When I was finally done speaking, feeling shaken from reliving every moment of the attack, it was my turn to answer questions. They pelted me with query after query, wanting to know about the most minute, seemingly inconsequential details. To their disappointment, and my own frustration, I didn’t have answers to many of their questions.
Did he have any distinguishing marks or characteristics?
It had been so dark; I didn’t know.
Could you estimate his age?
Maybe somewhere between twenty and forty? I couldn’t be sure.
Did he mention any kind of motive?
He hadn’t said anything, even when I’d broken his nose or smashed my high heel into his face.
Do you believe this is related to the break-in incident at your house last month?
It was possible, I supposed.
Can you think of anyone who would want to scare orharm you?
Finally, a question I could answer.
“There’s this guy. Gordon O’Brien. He’s threatened me before.” I swallowed tightly, talking around the large lump in my throat. “I think he gets off on scaring girls. And he was definitely at the club tonight – I noticed him when I walked in.”
“When you say that he’s threatened you in the past, what do you mean?” Officer Carlson asked.
“He grabbed me roughly the last time I bumped into him at Styx – he lifted me clear off the ground,” I explained. “I pleaded with him to stop, but he wouldn’t. I ended up having a panic attack right there in the club.”
“And you didn’t report this incident to the police?” OfficerO’Callahan chimed in sternly, disapproval apparent in his tone.
“It’s my fault,” Finn jumped in, his face cloudy with rage and regret. “I thought I’d handled the situation. Apparently I hadn’t.”
Officer Carlson raised one eyebrow as he turned his attention to Finn. “And how exactlydid you ‘handle’ the situation?”
“I punched him in the face, sir,” Finn answered, never one to beat around the bush. I actually thought I might’ve detected a note of pride in his voice.
Officer Carlson looked as if he were fighting a smile. OfficerO’Callahan chuckled outright, evidently amused by Finn’s forthright nature.
After asking a few more questions Icouldn’t answer, taking down all the information we knew about Gordon, and promising that they would be in touch as soon as they had any leads, the police officers left to go examine the alley more thoroughly. Apparently, as soon as they’d arrived on the scene, the officers had checked the alleyway to see if my attacker was still lurking in the shadows.
Unsurprisingly, he hadn’t been.
Now, they explained, a forensic team would comb the crime scene looking for any kind of evidence that could help them discover his identity: blood, fabric from his clothing, even finger and footprints left behind on the cobblestones. I might have to go down to the station at some point to answer more questions, but for now I was free to go.
Before Icould even make a move to hop off the stretcher, Finn was once again standing in front of me. He whipped his t-shirt over his head, leaving him bare-chested in the crisp autumn night air.
“Arms up,” he ordered softly.
“But you’ll get cold—” I began to protest, but stopped when I saw the look on his face. Resistance was definitely futile, and truthfully I was grateful that I wouldn’t have to walk to the parking lot while exposed and indecent, with my tattered dress on display for the crowd. Obediently, I lifted my hands toward the sky and allowed him to slip the faded grey shirt over my head and arms.
Ignoring my protests, Finn swept me up into his arms and insisted on carrying me to his truck. As soon as we moved out of the protective shield of police and paramedic vehicles,we were surrounded by curious onlookers. Finn’s glare kept them at a distance and, for the most part, they gave us wide berth as we made our way to the parking lot where Finn had left his truck.
There was no keeping Lexi away, though.
She didn’t speak as she trailed us through the crowd, somehow keeping pace with Finn’s quick strides. I could see traces of tears on her face, her normally light blue eyes watery and rimmedwith red. She was quiet, even when our eyes locked, but I could see the apology in her gaze.
I winked at her, to let her know that I was okay and that I didn’t blame her. If anything, I was grateful that Lexi hadn’t been in that alley with me; if she’d been hurt, I would have been devastated.