herself to her feet. Everything hurt. Her head felt like it weighed a hundred pounds and she could taste blood in her mouth.
She grabbed her phone and the hand towel from the counter and slowly moved to the couch. The new couch. She mustn’t get blood on the new couch, but she had to sit down. He’d never done that before. He had pinched her, embarrassed her, shoved her, tripped her, verbally abused her, but he’d never slugged her or kicked her. But then, as Cassie made her see, she’d been in denial about what physical abuse really was. How much of that is too much?
She dialed 911.
“Emergency,” the operator said.
“Help,” she said, spitting blood. “I’ve been assaulted.” She gave the address three times because her words were garbled.
“Do you need an ambulance?”
“I don’t know. I need the police. Maybe medical assistance...”
“Is the assailant still in the house?”
“I don’t think so,” she said. “I might’ve lost consciousness. He kicked me in the face. In the mouth. I can feel it in my teeth...”
“Help is on the way, ma’am. Stay on the line with me until they get there...”
“Do you think he was going to kill me? He was going to kill me, I think...”
“Stay with me...”
“I’m passing out, I think...”
“Hang in there. You’ll hear sirens in a moment. Tell me when you hear sirens...”
* * *
The police and medical arrived at almost the same time. She tried to imagine all the flashing lights on her quiet little street. While paramedics assisted her, did a cursory medical exam and provided an ice pack, one of two police officers asked her if she knew who the assailant was.
“My husband,” she slurred. “Dr. Brad Delaney. We’re separated. He lives in Mill Valley. He’s angry.”
“No kidding,” the paramedic muttered. “We’re going to start an IV, just to keep a vein open in case you need drugs. We’re going to transport.”
“Is that really necessary?” she asked. “I’m starting to feel better...”
“No reason to take chances with a head injury. And I think we should check for facial bone damage.”
“My teeth feel loose. Do I have all of them? Are they whole?”
“I think they’ll make it, but you have to go to the ER.”
“Ma’am,” the officer said. “Did anyone besides you and your husband witness this assault?”
She held out her phone. He recognized what she was showing him—the doorbell camera and speaker. While the door stood open, the sounds of Brad growling at her, threatening her and Lauren begging him to stop hurting her were loud and clear. The sound of him hitting and kicking her were clear. The image and audio recording would last for up to seven days, but she could save it now.
Typical Brad. They had closed circuit security at their Mill Valley home but he must not have considered that Lauren might have it at this old Victorian. He thought no one would ever know...
“I think we’re going to have to have this phone,” he said.
“No, you don’t,” she said. “You can dump everything on this phone if you want to but I need it. It’s the only way I can reach people who will help me now, and there is no house phone here. I can email you this image and recording right now.”
“That would help, if I’m going to pick him up.”
“What are you going to do with him?” she asked.
“He’s going to jail, ma’am. There are two offenses for which at least twelve hours in jail is mandatory—DUI and battery domestic. One, so the offender can sober up and is no longer a menace on the road and the other, so the victim can ensure his or her safety.”
“So he’ll be in jail all night?”
“I can assure you,” the young officer said.
“Even if he’s a very rich surgeon with a bunch of lawyers?” she asked.
“Even if,” the cop said.
“Here,” she said. “Email this to yourself.”
“You’re not going to beg me to leave him alone?” the officer asked.
“No,” she said. “Take him to jail.”
“What’s going on?” Beau shouted from the door. “What the hell? Where’s Lauren? Lauren!”
She was already on the gurney, sitting upright, holding the ice pack on her face. Beau was pushing his way through the paramedics and the two police officers instinctively grabbed his arms, holding him back.
“Let me go!” he said. “Let me see her! What happened to her?”
Lauren lowered the ice pack.
“Jesus,” he said, looking at her weakly.
“Let him go,” she garbled. “He’s a friend and neighbor.”
He rushed to her. “What happened? Who did this?”