“Sure, honey. I’ll have him go down now and start opening up.” Missy yells over her shoulder for her husband and he appears instantly.
They’ve been married for twenty years and they’re almost like an aunt and uncle to me. We met in a small business owners’ council for the city and they took me under their wing. They’re always there when I’m in a pinch and need help covering the store, since I only have two full-time employees who don’t come in until noon, if they come in at all. College students, always super dependable.
“Thank you, guys. I’ll call you and let you know that she’s all right when I get there. She probably just slept in…”
My voice trails off because we all know Elliott James hasn’t overslept a day in her life.
Missy nods at me encouragingly but I see the worry all over her face and it does nothing to ease the panic growing in my chest.
I run back to the bookstore and see that Emmett is long gone, but he left his number on the bottom of my note. Big block numbers. Cute.
I snatch the keys off the hook by the door and run around back to jump in my car. It’s about a ten-minute drive uptown to where Elli’s penthouse is. I don’t even turn the radio on, which is unheard of for me. I keep calling her the entire way, but it continues going to voicemail.
I get there in six minutes, throw my keys at the valet, and run up to the doorman. “Has Elli come downstairs this morning, Albert?”
He’s the sweetest old man who always has peppermints in his coat pocket, and he reminds me of everyone’s favorite grandpa. He’s worrying his lip and pacing a little when he sees me. To see him concerned only makes me surer that something is really wrong.
“No, ma’am. The night doorman told me earlier that she went upstairs with a fellow last night around two AM, but he came down shortly after and she hasn’t.” He moves past to let me in to the building.
I sprint to the elevators and enter the passcode to go up to the top floor, trying not to slide across the marble floors. Elli has the level to herself. She’s done well with one of the law firms here in town, becoming the first woman there to make partner. No one ever doubted she would. She’s the hardest worker I know.
I see my reflection in the gold doors in front of me. My hair is a mess, frayed, just as my nerves are right now. I didn’t have time to put makeup on in my haste to escape Emmett and I’m wearing a large hoodie with my favorite ripped jeans. I look panicked. My face is as white as a sheet. The doors can’t open fast enough.
The elevator dings as the doors open to her foyer and immediately my hair stands on end. Something definitely isn’t right. Her purse is on the table outside of her door, where she would never leave it. One heel is against the wall and the other is halfway between the elevator and her door like they were flung off, or she kicked them off.
Elli has a place for everything. She would never leave her shoes like this, even if she was drunk.
I get my phone out and call downstairs to Albert as I make my way through the foyer to her front door. “Albert, have the front desk call nine-one-one and stay on the phone with me.”
I pull my pistol out of my purse, thanking God that I grabbed it before bolting out of the apartment, and I tentatively call out for her.
I hear a groan and rush into her living room.
It’s chaos. Everything is turned over—couch cushions off the couch, lamp broken on the floor, blood on the pristine white carpet. My stomach flips and I scream for Albert to get upstairs now.
I call Elli’s name again and sprint into her master bedroom. She’s tied to her bed in just her bra and panties, covered with blood, face swollen.
“Oh my God. Elli!” I rush to her side and start untying the ropes that are binding her to the bed frame. “Can you hear me? It’s Raven. Try to open your eyes. I’m here. It’s all right.”
Her eyes are swollen shut and her lip is busted. She’s trying to make words but nothing is coming out.
“Shh, it’s okay. Don’t talk. Everything is okay. Albert called nine-one-one. We’re going to get you all fixed up.” I know I’m talking gibberish, trying not to let the rage that’s filling me spill out and keep me from being able to comfort her.
Albert bursts into the room and draws a deep breath.
“Help me get these ties off of her!” I tell him.
We undo the ropes and as soon as she’s free, Elli curls into a ball and starts sobbing. I lie with her and hold her, swallowing my own tears. For the next five minutes we just lie that way, me gently rubbing her hair and telling her it’s going to be okay and trying to check her over for any more injuries, and her sobbing like a broken woman, making my heart break into a thousand pieces.
The cops show up quickly and rush in. I step back to allow her to be evaluated, and the paramedics clean her up as best as they can before taking her downstairs to transport her to the local medical center. The crime scene investigation unit pulls up as Elli is loaded into the ambulance.
I hop in my car and follow behind them, calling Missy on the way to tell her what’s going on and then trying my best to calm her hysterics.
My mind is running a million miles a minute. The night doorman had seen the man. She has security cameras. Surely not all of that blood is hers. There’s got to be DNA.
We’re going to find him. I’m going to kill him. Please, please, whatever god is listening, please don’t let there be any serious damage.
My psychology side is going through all the counseling she’s going to need and how to best handle her recovery She’s so strong-willed and hard-headed. This is not going to break her.
We’re going to get through it—even if I have to pull her through it myself.
I take the stairs to the third floor of my apartment building. It’s older and it’s not the nicest, but it’s clean and close to the station. A lot of the single officers live here for that reason. I don’t usually take the stairs, but I hate making small talk with my neighbors and I could use the exercise to burn off some frustration.
I can’t believe she just left like that. I know I should just chalk it up to a one-night stand and let it go, but there was something about her.
I check my watch as I unlock my apartment door. I’ve got twenty minutes to shower and put on my uniform before I need to leave to be at work by nine. Weirdest thing about small towns, the cops’ workdays start at nine like everyone else’s. Nine to five. I just switched back to day-shift after a long stunt on night-shift, thanks to my partner sleeping with my girlfriend. Classic. He told me he was running home for his lunch break all those nights, but he was really running to my home to be with my girlfriend. My dumb ass was too busy trying to befriend our seniors at the station, so I never came home on breaks.
Yesterday I had taken the day off to go visit my brother, but halfway there I got a voicemail from Everette saying he had barracks duty so I went back home instead. Imagine my surprise when I unlocked my door to hear a distinctive moan coming from my bedroom. I headed toward it, then opened the door to find Alex balls deep in Jenna, who immediately started crying and apologizing.
It stung a little that Alex would do that, him being my partner and all. But if I’m being honest, I wasn’t that attached to Jenna. I mean, sure, I liked her. The sex was decent. She could cook. My house was always spotless because she was such a neat freak. And while she didn’t technically live with me, she pretty much did, even staying on the nights I was working so that I could “come home to a clean house and nice meal”—her words, not mine. In reality, she was probably staying to be closer to the station for when Alex took his breaks and snuck over here.
This is my first time back to the apartment after catching them yesterday, and it looks like she didn’t take anything that wasn’t hers—thank God. There’s a note on my coffee table that I ball up and throw away without reading. I don’t care enough about what she has to say to waste my time reading it.
I hit the shower and let the water wash away my thoughts of Jenna along with the remnant
s of last night. My mind instantly goes to Raven and the way she bit my shoulder and actually left a mark, but I couldn’t care less. The sex was incredible. I’ve got to find a way to see her again. I jump out of the shower and shave the stubble off that always comes back with a vengeance before my next shift.
Fifteen minutes later my face is smooth, my slacks and dress shirt are pressed and neat as a pin, and I’m heading out the door. I’m thankful for the short walk to the station. I don’t like to waste time, and a long commute is a waste of time. The walk takes me about five minutes and I feel a sense of pride wash over me as I take in the large stone building.
I didn’t plan on being a cop, but the sense of belonging is as close to the Marine Corps as I’m going to get. As I walk in the side entrance I hear my name being called from the second-floor balcony.
My new partner—Monica Tropp—is flagging me down and hauling ass down the flight of stairs in front of me. “Detective Fisher, hate to be the bearer of bad news, but we’ve got to roll out. Rape victim over at Penn Memorial.”
Fuck.
After murders, rape cases are the worst. I have to get into a special kind of head space to investigate them. The broken women, the mental anguish they’re going through. Then there’s interrogating the suspects who have no respect for women and have committed the ultimate crime against them with no remorse. Makes me want to puke just thinking about it, but I know this is my job and this is why I do what I do. We put those fuckers behind bars.
“All right, let’s go.” I snatch the keys out of the air as she tosses them to me and we’re off.
On the way over to the hospital, she briefs me with the details that we know. “The victim is Elliott James, a prominent lawyer in town. She’s twenty-six, lives alone in the penthouse apartment of a new building uptown. She went out for drinks last night with coworkers, and at the end of the night she took a guy home from the bar. The doorman is the only person who’s been interviewed so far. He saw them come in around one forty-five in the morning, and Miss James seemed to have been drinking but was able to walk in on her own. She wasn’t slurring her words and seemed to be of sound mind to make her own decisions, so the doorman wasn’t alarmed by the situation. About an hour later, the companion that had entered the penthouse with Miss James left alone and didn’t seem to be out of sorts. When Miss James didn’t meet her best friend for coffee this morning, the friend became concerned and went to check on her at her apartment. She found Miss James bound to her bed with nylon ropes. There appeared to have been a struggle, and not all of the blood at the apartment was Miss James’. The crime scene unit is still at the apartment now collecting evidence.”
“Okay, so we should have DNA. The doorman sounds like a good witness. Have we checked on security camera footage from the penthouse?” I ask her.
“Yes, the doorman sent it over right before you got here. There isn’t a good facial shot but we can definitely tell defining details of body type. White male, probably around thirty, dark blond hair, average build.”
“We need to get a list of coworkers she was with last night and interview them. Maybe they saw who she left with or met him before they all split up for the night,” I say.
“She’s awake and talking so hopefully she can provide us with a list. The officers that have stayed with her have advised us to be aware of the best friend, who’s a little shaken up and extremely protective of Miss James. Apparently she’s bitten the head off of many an officer this morning.” She chuckles a little there at the end, probably picturing our fellow officers getting an ass chewing from some ritzy upper-class best friend.
Wonderful. I mean, don’t get me wrong, I understand being protective of your best friend. And I’m sure it was a very stressful and traumatic situation to walk in to. But we need all the help we can get with this, not a best friend interfering and holding up the investigation.
It helps to have Monica along. A woman can often sympathize with victims and make them feel safer. Plus, Monica is a damn good detective. Another benefit of Alex fucking me over by literally fucking Jenna.
We reach the hospital and show our badges at the front desk, where they direct us to the third floor where the victim is being treated. She’s not in ICU, so that’s a good sign.
We step off the elevator and round the corner to room three-o-eight. Monica knocks twice and enters when someone mumbles for us to come in.
As soon as I step inside the door I swear I can sense her.
My eyes scan the room, and there, sitting at her best friend’s bedside, is Raven.
About thirty minutes ago, Elli finally calmed down enough to stop sobbing. I can tell that she’s deep inside her head right now. I’m pretty sure my heart is lying somewhere on the floor beneath this chair I’ve been sitting in for the last hour. I’m not super religious, but I think I’ve prayed more this morning than I have in two years.
I’m so glad that she’s physically okay. They think she was raped and may have some internal injuries and a concussion, but it could have been so much worse. He could have killed her. I know how strong she is, though, and I know she’s going to get through this. She’s got a determined look in her eye already. As soon as her physical body is healed, we’ll start working on her spirit.
“I should have known better, Rave. I don’t know what I was thinking. I never take guys back to my place,” Elli says.
“Don’t you dare blame yourself, not even for one second. Do you hear me? None of this is your fault. He’s a monster, and we’re going to find him,” I tell her.
“I know. I know we will.”
There are two soft knocks at the door and Elli tells the visitor to come on in.
Only, it’s not a visitor, it’s a detective. Beautiful ebony skin and dark hair slicked back into a bun. Her face is feminine but you can tell she’s all business. Her lavender button-down shirt complements her perfectly. Light gray dress pants and sharp black heels complete the look. Her eyes find Elli and I don’t see sympathy wash over them.
I’m grateful for that. Elli is not the type who wants to play up being the victim and she damn sure won’t take anyone’s pity. As the detective shuffles in I realize she’s not alone. I catch one broad shoulder followed by another and a feeling of familiarity comes over me.
Emmett strolls in, stopping dead when he scans the room and his eyes land on me.
Shit.
I almost laugh out loud.
Of fucking course he’s the detective investigating this. Perfect.
I don’t have time to dance around whatever morning-after awkwardness is about to go down, so I avert my eyes. It’s hard to, though. He looks amazing. I can tell he just shaved, and he looks more rested than he did last night.
He turns to Elli and says, “I’m Detective Fisher, this is Detective Tropp. We’re here to take your statement and see if we can get some information about last night.”
Elli nods at them and takes a deep breath.
“Do you feel like you can speak with us right now, or should we come back later?” he asks.
“I’m ready now.” Elli’s voice is defiant and strong.
I’m so proud of her in this moment, but I know that the strong front she’s putting up is going to slip sooner or later, and I’ll be here with her when it does.
“Perfect, are you okay with your friend staying?” He motions over to me without looking in my direction, like he has no idea who I am, and I guess he really doesn’t.
It stings a little and I want to roll my eyes at myself.
Isn’t that what I’m doing to him, too?
I’m glad he’s being a professional and doing his job right now. We can talk later.
Maybe.
“Raven,” Elli says. “This is my best friend, Raven Jackson. And yes, I’d be more comfortable if she stayed.”
I’m grateful, because I want to know what happened but I didn’t want to ask her to go through it with me this morning knowing she’d have to do it all over again when the cops came
.
“Okay, great.” He sits down in a chair at the foot of her bed and Detective Tropp takes her side opposite of me.
The female detective pulls out a notepad and looks at Elli with understanding in her eyes. “Let’s just start at the beginning, and if you get uncomfortable at any time we can stop, all right?”
Elli nods.
“Which bar did you go to for drinks last night, and whom did you meet there?”
Detective Tropp is asking the questions, probably a technique taught in school because victims are more susceptible to open up to the same sex. I wonder if this is his partner or if they sent her along since this is a rape case.
“My coworkers, Beth, Lauren, and River. We went to Drinks on Main around eleven thirty after having dinner at The Red Umbrella.”
My forehead gets prickly. Drinks on Main is where Emmett and I met last night. I didn’t know Elli was going there or I would’ve stayed longer.
“Lauren and Beth left around midnight. They have kids and they don’t ever stay out late with us when we have our girls’ nights. River and I stayed until a little after one. She was leaving with a guy she knew through her sister, and I had been dancing with a guy most of the night. He told me his name was Brent, but I don’t think that was his real name.” She tries to repress a shudder at the end of her sentence, while picking at the white blanket covering her legs as she talks.
“Can you describe him for us? What he looked like, what he was wearing. If he said anything abnormal.”
“He was tall, dirty blond hair, wide nose, handsome but not overly so. I’d say he was a decent seven out of ten. Probably six-foot-one, two-hundred pounds or so. I don’t remember him saying anything abnormal. He was sweet, but maybe a little pushy on the dance floor. He did mention coming home with me a few times and I laughed it off. He didn’t act offended, but he was persistent. I’d only had a few drinks so I thought I was fine. He offered to drive me home anyway and I agreed. I remember getting in the elevator, but that’s it. I don’t remember being in the apartment at all. Nothing until seeing Raven this morning and the ambulance ride over here. He told me something about putting me to bed in the elevator, and I remember laughing, thinking it was ridiculous because I wasn’t drunk and didn’t need to be put to bed. But that’s the last thing I remember.”
Nevermore Page 3
