Chapter Forty-One

Tall. Not skinny. Not fat. Hood over his head.

My responses irritate the investigative officer, but there’s nothing about my attacker that stands out. Or if there is I’m not remembering it. Except for his garbled voice, which the officer already notated.

“I bit his hand,” I tell the officer, wincing at my sore throat.

The cop scribbles something. “Which one?”

I shrug, frustrated. It was so dark.

“You’re five foot two and weigh 130?” the cop asks.

I nod.

“You said the guy was tall?”

I nod again.

“I imagine everyone seems tall to you.”

True. But why is he challenging my answers?

“So he may not be tall. He may be more like five-ten. Right?”

Is this guy trying to be a jerk? “Five-ten. Six-foot,” I snap. “Write down whatever you want.” Jesus.

Closing his notepad, the cop looks at me for a second, and then his expression gentles to something I would’ve expected all along. “Miss Burnett,” he says. “I don’t mean to come across harsh. I have no tolerance for men who prey on women. The more details you can remember, the quicker I’ll find this guy before he attacks again.”

Attacks again. I didn’t even think about that. This isn’t the end. That’s what he said to me, and remembering it now sends a distinct jolt of panic through me. He’s coming back for me.

“Anybody you can think of who would have done this?”

Bud and Manny pop into my mind first. Other than giving me the creeps, Bud’s never actually done or said anything. But I still tell the cop all about him as well as the dark SUV that followed me, the creepy phone call, and the note delivered to my dorm. Hell, I even tell him about the green running shorts that I thought went missing.

I watch as he opens his notepad again and writes everything down and then I quietly say, “My ex-boyfriend’s out on bail right now for rape.”

The cop stops writing and looks at me. “What’s your ex’s name?”

I give it to him.

“How tall is he?”

I think about that, but I don’t know. I never asked him. “Five-ten maybe.”

The cop studies me for a second. “If you think of anything else, call me.”

“There’s supposedly a video.” I swallow my tender throat. “My attacker said he saw me on a video.”

“Video of what?”

“I think of me and Riel dancing.”

He pushes the curtain aside to reveal Riel standing, staring out the window into the just dawning morning. Two hours have passed since he found me. “That him?”

I nod.

The cop goes over to talk to him, and as I watch I think through what the doctor told me. I have a dislocated shoulder where the man dragged me into the woods. A bruised rib where he ground his foot into me. And an injured esophagus where he pushed his forearm into my neck.

It’s bad, but all I can think is, my momma’s had worse.

Riel says goodbye to the cop and turns to see me looking at him. Keeping his expression unreadable, he crosses the floor and over to my bed. “There’s a video?”

“That’s what my attacker said,” I whisper.

Riel’s jaw hardens. “Abbie.”

I don’t say anything to that as a tense moment passes. I’m sure he’s thinking the same thing I am. If Abbie hadn’t posted that video, I may not have been attacked. The freak saw that video and came after me.

I detect a slight shaking in Riel. “You okay,” I hoarsely ask, and wince. I really do need to stop talking.

He lets out a huff. “You’re the one lying in the bed and you’re asking me if I’m okay?”

I give a little shrug and try for a smile.

Sliding into the chair beside me, Riel takes my hand. “You don’t have to be brave around me.”

Brave? I don’t feel brave. Helpless more accurately describes it.

Riel keeps looking at me, and his probing stare becomes too much. I turn away. I don’t want him seeing so deeply inside me. “Can you let me have some time alone?” I whisper even though I don’t want him to leave.

Quiet seconds pass and he doesn’t move, then finally I hear him get up. “I’ll be outside if you—”

“No.” The thought of being alone right now sends a jolt of panic through me. “Stay.”

A few more seconds go by, and I feel him lay his fingers on my back where the bandages wrap my bruised rib. The gentleness and the tenderness of that touch makes my breath hitch, and I cringe as fiery pain sparks through my side and tears silently begin to fall.

With slow, careful movements, Riel rubs a soothing circle over my back. “Go ahead. Let it out. Let it all out.”

I do then. I let it all out. The humiliation. The fear. The violation. My attacker could’ve done so much more. He would have if Riel hadn’t have shown up.