was just a whore.” I mumbled softly.
The tears began to roll down my cheeks. I wiped them away, more quickly replacing them. “He hit my head against the concrete. I remember him ripping my skirt…” I shuddered at the memory, it was almost like he was on me again.
“I’m sorry, I don’t remember anything after that.” I wiped away the few tears that had run down my chin.
Detective Maslow smiled sympathetically at me. I stole a look at Devon. His face remained emotionless. I felt a pang of anger as I realized he was doodling in the corner of his notepad.
Was my story that boring to him, or did he just not really give a shit?
“We will be in touch. If you remember anything else, let myself or Detective Walkerson know.” He handed me a card. I nodded and smiled at him, completely ignoring Devon as he walked past me.
After they had gone, I released my anger, “Can you believe that?” I raged at Ara, “I’m sorry, but I’m past feeling bad about what happened. He is a fucking asshole. Did you see him sitting there?”
Ara nodded, “Give him time, Kait. I’d tell you just to forget about him, but I can see you’re not going to do that.” She hugged me, tucking tear stained strands of hair behind my ears, “Come-on.”
“I think I need a nap.” I replied glumly. How much time was he going to need to move past this?
Chapter Thirty-Three
A week had passed since the attack.
Slowly, I was beginning to feel better. I could at least get myself out of bed now, and shower without Ara’s help. Sam no longer looked at me like I was something that had been dragged out of a swamp, and Neri could look me in the eye without almost bursting into tears.
Today I had the house to myself. Ara was at college, and the kids were at school. The police had filled the college in on what had happened with Charlie. He had been fired (which I guess was expected when you were arraigned without bail on attempted rape and aggravated assault charges).
I had been given a leave from my classes, and with only my exams left, I could take them when I was fully recovered, and still graduate at the end of the year.
I set myself up in the living room, pillows and blankets, with the TV playing old movies, just as I used to when I was little. The only difference was mom wasn’t here to feed me chicken soup and flat lemonade.
There had been no further news on mom, or Michael. After telling Neri and Sam repeatedly that no news was good news, I was starting to believe it myself. I rolled over onto my side, wincing in pain as the pressure hit my ribs. I didn’t care what anyone said, bruised ribs were just as painful as broken ones.
I hadn’t seen or heard from Devon all week.
As much as I tried to tell myself I didn’t care, I did. I was hurt. Maybe I had done the wrong thing, and yes, I probably should have told him, but he was being a dick by not talking to me.
My heart leapt as the doorbell rang.
Struggling to my feet, I pushed the feelings of hope away, the hope that it was Devon. Maybe he’d forgiven me? Or at least come to talk to me in a civilized manner. Like an adult.
I opened the door, unable to stop the disappointment from showing in my face.
“I’m used to disappointment and regret when people see me, but even that look was harsh.” An unusually tall man with a moustache smiled down at me. Next to him was a middle aged woman. Both dressed in suits, the man held out an ID badge, “I’m Officer Stanley Harris, and this is Officer Melinda Murphy.”
The FBI.
“Sorry, I thought you might be someone else.” I forced a smile, “Come in.”
“You don’t look to be in the best shape, Ms Delancy, I presume?” I nodded, my brow furrowing. I’d just assumed they would have heard about the attack from the police. Not that I knew how these things worked.
“Call me Kait.” I said, “I was attacked last week.” I added settling myself on the couch once again. “I’m okay.” I assured him, seeing his concerned expression.
“I’m sorry to hear that. Is this a bad time?”
“It depends on what you want…or what you want to tell me.” I added, hoping they’d get the hint that the last thing