One Wild Weekend with Connor

by Lexi Hart

  I blink and ease myself up slowly, recognizing I’m in a hospital room. My head is aching as I peer at the doctor’s face. “What happened?”

  The doctor reaches into his top pocket and shines a light in my eyes. “You were drugged. You’ll be groggy for a few hours. The police are waiting to speak with you.” A nurse bustles into the room and smiles at me.

  “I don’t understand.”

  The nurse exchanges a look with the doctor. “Do you have someone you’d like us to call other than your friend?”

  I shake my head still trying to work out what happened. “I was at a bar. I wasn’t feeling well.” The nurse’s expression only grows more pained while the doctor looks like wants to leave. “What’s going on? Why am I here?”

  Neither are saying anything when Rosie rushes into the room. Her face is tear-streaked, her make-up running as she throws her arms around me. “Oh, thank God. I’m so sorry; this is all my fault.”

  I pat her on the back and swallow, which causes pain to tear down my throat. “Why is my throat so sore?” I ask.

  The doctor backs away and tells me he’ll see me when I can be discharged. The nurse raises an eyebrow while Rosie stares at her fingernails. “Um...”

  My heart starts to jump around. I know my voice sounds too high, but I need to know why my entire body feels battered and bruised. “Someone tell me!”

  The nurse pats Rosie on the shoulder and looks to the door. “This might be better coming from a friend.”

  As the nurse closes the door, Rosie takes my hand. “Your drink was spiked at the bar.” She takes a breath while I can’t seem to find mine. “You were attacked, and the nurse needs to take a vaginal swab to see if you were raped.”

  My eyes flood with tears until I can’t see her. “W-w-what?”

  She starts to cry along with me. “I didn’t see you were trying to call me. I was in the bar. I must have just missed you. I’m so sorry. I hope he rots in hell for what he did.”

  I choke on my tears, scorching pain blazes through my raw throat. “Who is he?”

  Rosie swipes her face. “Some drifter. He has a record already. He was working at the bar. He must have followed you and your date outside. He beat the crap of your date and attacked you.”

  I jerk my hand away from hers. “What date? I didn’t have a date. Did I?”

  Rosie shrugs, still sniffing. “I don’t know. When I didn’t see you in the bar, and the bartender said you’d had a drink with a guy then you both left, I thought you’d hooked up.” She bites her lip, chin wobbling. “You might not remember things clearly since you were drugged. The police are trying to figure everything out. They need to talk to you when you’re up to it.”

  I’m so stunned, I just stare at her and wonder how everything has gone so horribly wrong. “Why is my throat so sore?” I croak. Her eyes flick to my throat, then my face. She looks about ready to throw up so I know I must look terrible. “How did you find me?”

  She swallows and reaches for a tissue beside my bed. She noisily blows her nose before answering. “You sent me a bunch of random texts that made no sense. Then you called me and left such a garbled message about driving home that I got worried and came outside in the hopes I could find you.” She dabs at her eyes. “When I found your car, your date was beaten up, and the prick who did this was ransacking your car, probably looking for money.”

  I shake my head so hard, fresh tears spring to my eyes. When the shooting pain subsides, I scrunch up my face. “Why would I call you if I was with a date?”

  Rosie shrugs her narrow shoulders. “I don’t know.”

  I sink back into the pillows and look out the glass door at the activity outside my room. Uniformed police are waiting; I can see my nurse talking to them, gesturing to my room. “This is a nightmare. First Connor, now this,” I mumble.

  Rosie sucks in a breath through her teeth. “Connor? Connor Slade? You know him?”

  I frown at her, still trying to decipher what is going on when the nurse pops her head in the room. “Sorry. I know this isn’t a good time, but the officers need that test before they can press charges.”

  I gape at her, lips flapping open uselessly as I can’t find words. “Charge who?”

  The nurse steps inside the room, her brow knotted together. “That’s not for me to say. I just need you to sign this consent form, and I’ll get that swab and fingernail scrape done. It’s not the most pleasant thing to do, but the quicker we get it done, the quicker you can shower and get changed.”

  I nod mutely, numbness spreading over my body as Rosie slips out of the room and the nurse pulls the curtain around my bed. The nurse pulls out a kit, and I start to cry as she holds my hand and drags a stick under my nails and repeats it for each fingernail.

  “Sorry, hon, I know this sucks. I’ll be quick.”

  I close my eyes and squeeze them shut as she pulls the sheet off my lower body. When she’s finished, I take a shaking breath and ask her what I’m dreading knowing the answer to. “Have I been?”

  Her voice is kind, but I know she can’t really tell me yet. “Between you and me, you don’t have any tearing or bruising to indicate force, but that’s not always conclusive. The test is for a DNA sample. The police have two potential suspects, one of which has a criminal conviction.”

  Cold rushes around my body as I see how this is looking. I shake my head. “I had sex with Connor. His DNA will be all over me.”

  The nurse raises an eyebrow. “You need to tell the police everything. I’ll send them in if you’re ready?”

  I nod quickly, still desperately trying to think of how Connor was at the bar when the police step inside my room. I don’t even wait for them to start speaking before I sit up and tug my sheets around me. “I know Connor. We were intimate before last night. I spent the weekend with him,” I spew out.

  The older of the two officers looks at me like I’m an alien. “Ms. Jones, you are aware that Connor Slade is in a serious amount of trouble right now?”

  I look at the younger of the two, a woman in her twenties who’s eyeing me with an expression of guarded pity that irritates me. “I know how this sounds. And I don’t know why he was there, but I know him, and he wouldn’t attack me.” The female officer looks sidelong to the older officer as if questioning whether I should even be listened to.

  “Ms. Jones. I’m Detective Sanchez, and this is Patrolwoman Saunders. The effects of the drug you were given can lead to confusion, so it’s important we concentrate on the facts.” He takes a notepad out and starts reading aloud. “Witnesses saw you leaving the bar at approximately 8.30pm. We have no witnesses to say where you went after that. What we do have is a phone log from your cell which clearly shows you made several phone calls between 8.31pm and 8.47pm. The longest lasted over four minutes and was to a phone registered to Connor Slade. We’ve listened to all those messages, and the fact that you were drugged and that Slade arrived on the scene and attacked Rick Myers are not what is in question.”

  I release a shaking breath. “Then what is in question?”

  The officer takes a moment to answer, making me even more anxious. “Slade disappeared for three days, and we are now learning he allegedly spent all that time with you.”

  My head is starting to spin, but I don’t want to mess this up for Connor. “He didn’t do anything wrong.”

  The female officer butts in, earning her a sharp look from her superior. “Why did you refuse to verify he was with you last weekend?”

  I frown at her. “What do you mean?”

  The older officer taps his pen on his notepad and sends the younger officer a sharp look. “Slade requested that Ms. Jones not be involved unless necessary.”

  My eyes widen. “Why would he do that?”

  The younger officer almost smiles. “Perhaps he was trying to spare you the embarrassment. You did save his life, didn’t you?”

  I stare at them, trying to find something useful to say, but my tongue feels thick in my mouth, and all
the energy I had seems to be draining away. “None of this makes sense. Connor hasn’t done anything wrong. He’s innocent.” I have to stifle a yawn which lessens my statement, but the older officer gives me a tired smile.

  “Innocence is for the court to decide. And given that Rick Myers’s wife has hired one of the best defense attorneys that money can buy and that this incident threatens to undermine another case that Connor’s involved in, it’s looking likely to go to trial.”

  I rest my head back on the pillow. “His wife? My supposed date that I can’t remember has a wife?” They exchange another look, annoying me even further. “What now?” I snap.

  “Ms. Jones. I do feel we would remiss to not instruct you to hire an attorney. These cases can get personal. If you go on the witness stand and claim it was Myers who drugged you and attempted to rape you, you will clear Slade, but in doing so, the defense will attempt to discredit you.”

  I gulp. “What does that mean?”

  The younger officer sighs. “It means they’ll use your past sexual history to destroy your credibility. They’ll dig up every piece of evidence, no matter how personal, no matter how humiliating. It will all be on public record, including all the intimate details of your relationship with Connor.” She does smile this time, but it’s the kind of smile women share when they’re commiserating, which makes the sick feeling growing in my stomach ten times worse.

  “So, if I don’t agree to testify on Connor’s behalf, he’ll go to jail for a crime he didn’t commit because he saved me from being raped?” When neither answer and just stare at the floor, I choke on a bitter laugh and regret it as my throat catches. “Can I have my phone back? I need to call a lawyer.”

  The older officer answers with a wry smile. “It’s been admitted into evidence along with your car, but as soon as the test results are in and your blood toxicology is back, you’ll be able to go home.”

  I nod vaguely, heart jumping around painfully. “What will happen to Connor? Will he get bail?”

  The younger officer’s lips press tighter together as the older officer gives me a pitying look. “Bail is out of the question. The law is very clear on parole conditions and Slade wilfully violated the terms of his when he intervened.”

  I nearly jump out of the bed when they start moving towards the door. “Is there any way I can see him?”

  The older shakes his head. “He’s in a holding cell, and you’ll do him more harm than good if you try to visit him.” He pulls a card from his breast pocket and reaches over the bed to hand it to me. “I don’t usually do this, but I know some of Connor’s history. He has more than a few champions who think his sentence was overly harsh.” I take the card and look to him for an explanation. “This is his parole officer’s number. She’ll want to speak to you, and she can set up a meeting with his lawyer and yours.”

  I grip the card against my chest and nod. “Thank you.”

  He smiles. “Just doing my job.”

  When they’ve left, I sink back into pillow against and stare at the card. Questions spin like tops in my exhausted brain. I think of the picture I was angry at Connor for snapping of me. I was worried that it would somehow get out and that my family would see it. How much trouble is this going to be for them?

  The nurse returns which I hope signals some good news. She perches on the best and pats my leg like we’re old friends, but her expression remains impassive. “I’m breaking protocol. The lab expedited your test since we have two potential suspects.”

  I grit my teeth as she pulls out two sheets of paper with a bunch of numbers I’m too tired to even see. “What am I looking at?”

  She taps to a set of blocks of color. “We have two sets of DNA from test subjects A and B under your fingernails. But only one matches the DNA in your vaginal swab, which is test subject A.”

  I squint at the paper, the words blurring as pain shrieks through my head. “Who is test subject A?”

  She waves her pen in the air. “Well, I can’t say that. What I can say is that test subject A didn’t have traces of Benzodiazepine in his urine sample, but test subject B did.”

  I think that’s good news, but another yawn seems to spill out even though the last thing I want to do is sleep. My body seems to be fighting against my desires. “I’m so tired. Please just tell me I wasn’t raped.”

  “No, hon. I don’t think you were.” I burst into tears, and I’m surprised when she gives me a hug. She whispers in my ear. “Off the record, hon. I was there when they brought your attacker in.” She pulls back and darts a look at the door as my jaw drops.

  “What did Connor do to him?”

  She shrugs. “I’m not in orthopedics so I can’t say for sure, but I’ve seen enough boxers come in here to know a broken face when I see one. I’m off shift now. You take care, hon.”

  When she starts to get off my bed and grab her hand. “Wait, thank you. Thank you so much.”

  She smiles, and as she walks out the door, I realize I didn’t even get her name.

  As my eyes droop and Rosie ducks her head back to see I need anything, I start thinking about how I’m going to prepare my family for the shame this will bring to them. I close my eyes, the room still spinning, and Rosie’s voice fading into the background as I start to doze.

  CONNOR

  Sunday 3.56am

  Travis comes back in with the fourth cup of coffee we’ve had since they took me into custody nearly nine hours ago. I yawn and stretch out as far as the handcuffs chained to the table will let me.

  “Any word?”

  He sips his coffee, scowls, then check his email for what seems like the nine hundredth time before he answers. “Well, she’s awake. The nurse is in with her, and they are rushing the tests so we should have a definitive answer soon.”

  I leave my coffee, tapping my foot on the floor, dragging the restraints along with them. I don’t need any caffeine to keep me awake. The thought of Evelyn in hospital coupled with the knowledge I might be charged with sexually assaulting her as well as attacking the asshole who tried to rape her isn’t likely to allow me to sleep anytime soon.

  When the cops showed up, I just figured I’d get slapped with an assault charge, which I was willing to plead no contest to, but then things got incrementally worse when lawyers got involved. I know I’m screwed. Either way, I’m the bad guy. Even if Evelyn is coherent enough to clear me, which is unlikely, no judge will overlook all the parole violations.

  Travis is playing his cards close to his chest, or at least he thinks he is, but he looks as resigned as I feel right now. Travis’s cell phone rings and he snatches it up, but won’t look at me. I can see an email from the hospital just came in, but he’s not opening it.

  I’m bracing for the worst when Travis looks at me and does a thumbs up. “Fantastic. Thanks, Carol, I owe you.”

  He looks so insanely excited I think he might try to high five me, but he just slaps the table hard enough to make his laptop jump. “You’re in the clear. She has Benzodiazepines in her system, so did he. Cops found an empty packet prescribed to him in the suspect’s car.”

  “What about the DNA?”

  He reads aloud like I’m not peering over his shoulder. “Well, it’s clear you had sex with her, but they only found Myer’s DNA under her fingernails which is painting a pretty clear picture.”

  I swallow back my anger, knowing it’s not going to do any good to get all riled up again. “Any other witnesses come forward yet?”

  He shakes his head. “The friend is the only one who’s currently sitting on the fence. I think I can push her to our side, and if your girl let—”

  “She’s not my girl. You need to stop calling her that,” I growl.

  Travis rubs at the bridge of his nose. “Right. Fine. From here on in, I shall refer to her as Ms. Jones. Is that alright with you?”

  His tone is so biting that I almost bite back, but it’s been too long a night, so I concede I was a little testy. “I just mean I don’t think she’s my g
irl. After tonight, I think it’s safe to say she won’t ever be.”

  Travis sighs. “We have no reason to—” His phone trills again, but he seems bewildered as he answers. “Tessa? It’s 3am.”

  Tessa yells so loud he pulls the phone away from his ear and flinches. “Put me on the damn speaker phone, Travis. I want to talk to Connor.” Travis pulls a face at me but does as he’s told and places the phone on the table. “Connor? You listening? Because I am NOT repeating this.”

  I lean as close as my restraints allow. “I’m listening. Why are you up?”

  She sighs into the phone. “I’m up because Sanchez, who is a complete moron, decided to give my card to your Evelyn.”

  I’m either hallucinating, hearing things, or more tired than I realized. “She called you? Why?”

  Tessa curses into the phone. “She called because she didn’t have Travis’s number. Since I was up, I decided to give you a solid cussing out for being so stupid.”

  Travis looks as shocked as I do, but he manages to ask the question I’m too dumbfounded to. “Why didn’t she have her lawyer contact me?”

  Tessa chuckles. “You can ask her that. She’ll be calling you as soon as she’s cleared to leave the hospital. She says she wants to testify in Connor’s defense.”

  Travis stares at his phone, then me, then back at his phone. “I don’t think..” But Tessa has already hung up. I slump back on my chair, too many thoughts bashing together in my head. She can’t testify. I know what that means. I’ve felt that. Seen my brother picked apart, everything he ever did, every wrong move. I can’t let that happen to Evelyn. Travis shakes his head. “As your lawyer, I would strongly advise against talking to Ms. Jones.” His cell lights up and starts to ring. My heart speeds as Travis shakes his head. “This isn’t a good idea. It could backfire. You could be accused of conspiring...”

  I watch the phone, fingers itching to pick it up so I can hear her voice. Travis looks set to pick it up, so I growl low. “Travis, why don’t you get some coffee?”

  I jerk my hand, so my coffee spills over the table and drips over the floor. He shakes his head and pushes the cell closer to me. “I need to stretch my legs anyway.”