Radclyffe - Sheltering Dunes

“What?” Reese asked.

“Nothing.”

“Mica didn’t give any indication she was nervous or frightened?”

Flynn’s head began to pound. A cascade of flashing lights shot through her eyes, and a thousand needles pierced her brain. “I’m sorry. I’m not sure. I’m a little fuzzy right now.”

“I understand,” Reese said patiently. “Just give me your impressions. I’ll sort things out from there.”

“I think Mica looked back a couple times. I can’t be sure.”

“Okay. She didn’t say anything? Didn’t warn you in any way?”

“No. We were kind of wrapped up in each other. At least I was. Not paying much attention to anything else.”

“The two of you, you’re involved?”

“I’m not sure.” Flynn flushed. “It was a date. A casual one.”

“Uh-huh, okay. So someone came up behind you, shoved you into the alley. Then what?”

Flynn gripped the side of the stretcher, curling her fingers around the cool steel. Surprise, pain, fear, and anger flooded through her in succession. Mica’s sharp cry of pain, the sight of the attacker’s arm wrapped around Mica’s throat, lifting her off the ground, pulling her away. Pulling her into the dark. “He was medium height, heavyset. Maybe three or four inches taller than Mica. There wasn’t much light. No beard, close-cut hair. Big arms. No jacket.”

“White? Black?”

“Not black. I remember his forearm was bare. There was a mark—some kind of tattoo on his forearm—right forearm.”

“Do you remember what it was?”

“No. I only saw it for a second, but it was big, maybe five inches high.”

“Did you hear his voice?”

“Yes. He had an accent. Spanish, I think.” Flynn’s breathing was ragged and she was starting to get light-headed. She settled herself, fighting off the disorienting effect of the drugs and the icy fear of memory. “I’m sorry I don’t have more for you.”

“That’s all right, you did really well.” Reese leaned forward and rested one hand on the stretcher next to Flynn’s. She didn’t touch her, but her presence filled the space. “What can you tell me about Mica?”

“I don’t know what you mean,” Flynn said almost automatically. Everything always came back to Mica and unanswered questions. And always, her pressing need to protect Mica from everyone, even the people she trusted.

“The usual things people talk about when they first meet—where she’s from, what she’s doing here. Is she married, seeing anyone, hooked up with friends in the area?”

“Shouldn’t she be telling you this?”

“Yes, but I’m not sure she will.” Reese held Flynn’s gaze. “You know what I’m talking about.”

“I’m sorry, I can’t tell you anything.”

“I can understand that you don’t want to. That keeping her confidence is important to you. But one of you could have been killed back there. If there’s any chance it’s going to happen again, I need to know what’s going on.”

“I don’t know the answer to your questions,” Flynn said.

“If you did, would you tell me?”

“I don’t know.” Flynn struggled to explain what she couldn’t even explain to herself. “You’ll have to find out from her what you need to know.”

“All right. Try to get some sleep.” Reese rose. “When we’re done talking to Mica, I’ll have Allie give you both a ride home.”

“Thanks.”

Reese paused on the way to the door. “By the way. Is this her priest protecting her or her girlfriend?”

“I’m not her confessor.” Flynn took a long breath. “I don’t think I’m her girlfriend either, but I’d like to be.”

“Word of advice, then—love sometimes makes it hard to see the whole picture, especially when all you see is her. You can get into trouble that way.”

“Yeah,” Flynn said. “I know.”

*

“Your ID says your name is Mica Butler.” Allie motioned to a chair in the small conference room down the hall from the treatment rooms. Mica glanced at the chair and then the door they’d come through, and Allie braced herself to grab her if she tried to run. She looked like she might. “Do you want a soda or something?”

“No,” Mica said.

“You might as well sit down. This is going to take a few minutes.” Allie pulled out a chair at the small round wooden table and set her hat on the top. She leaned back and waited. It was two a.m. She had all night.

Mica yanked out a chair across from Allie’s and flopped into it.

“You want to tell me what happened tonight?” Allie asked.

“We got jumped. He took off when we didn’t lay down for it.”

“You know him?”

“Nope.”

“Know why he went for you?”

“Nope,” Mica said.

Allie took out her notebook. “Description?”

“It was dark.”

“He almost killed Flynn,” Allie said conversationally and looked up from her notes. Mica’s bored expression faltered. Her eyes sparked and her lips thinned. Bingo.

“I didn’t see him all that well.”

“And you don’t know him,” Allie repeated. Come on, give me something.

“I already said no.”

“Butler.” Allie changed tacks, hoping to catch Mica off guard. “Something tells me that’s not your real last name.”

“I already told you, I don’t know who the guy is. I don’t have anything else to say.”

“Where are you from?”

“New York City.”

“Where did you go to school?”

Mica crossed her arms. “A bunch of places. I quit before I graduated. Can’t remember them all.”

“And you came all the way here to what, work for minimum wage in a bar?” Allie got up, pushed change into the coffee machine, and waited while steaming liquid the color of muddy water filled a paper cup. She added Splenda from a shelf next to the vending machine and sat back down. She blew on the top, sipped, and wondered why coffee machines couldn’t make decent coffee. Ever. “No bars in New York City?”

“Is there some law against me working in a bar?”

“Nope.” Allie placed the coffee cup down in front of her. “No law against it at all. There is a law against lying to me, though, and I’m pretty sure you’re lying.”

Mica stared at some point past Allie’s shoulder. The message was clear. She wasn’t talking and she knew she didn’t have to.

“Whoever this guy was, he’s still around. He’ll probably be back.”

Mica’s jaw tightened. She was beautiful, even pissed off and wanting a fight.

“Did you cut him?” Allie asked.

“Yeah, I cut him.”

“Stuck him or cut him?”

Mica glanced at Allie with amused respect. “Stuck him, but not as hard as I wished I had. He blocked most of it, caught a shoulder, I think.”

“Left shoulder? Right shoulder?”

“Left.”

“How’d you get the knife away from him?”

“Asshole held it to my throat, put it right up where I could get it.”

“Pretty risky. He could have gotten you first.”

Mica shrugged. “He wasn’t trying to kill me.”

“What was he trying to do?” Mica’s face went blank, and Allie took that as a sign she was headed in the right direction. “He wasn’t interested in raping you. Men who want to rape women don’t jump couples. So if he didn’t want to kill you, what does that leave us?”

“You’re the cop.”

Allie smiled. “That I am. I’m glad you’ve got that in focus.”

“Look, I don’t know the dude. It was dark, and he was behind me. Couldn’t see him. I got nothing that will help you.”

“You shouldn’t sell yourself short,” Allie said. “You know what he wants, don’t you?”

“Got no idea.”

“Yet you know he wasn’t trying to kill you. Makes me think he wants you. Why would he want you?”