Page 167 of The Dixon Rule

“You do. That’s why you saved this folder on your phone. You documented what he did and kept it because you knew you might need to use it. Actually, no, not might—you knew you should use it.”

Diana starts to cry again, shuddering in my arms. “I can’t go to the police. My dad is going to find out—”

“You’re right. He’ll find out. And once he knows what happened, he’ll probably be as murderous as I am. But he loves you. And he’ll know, just like I do, that you didn’t do anything wrong.”

Her teeth gnaw at her lip. “I provoked him.”

“You didn’t provoke him. You broke up with him and told him to leave you alone. He followed you to work and then assaulted you. That’s all you need to say to the cops. Trust me, no one is going to victim-blame or think you did anything to cause what happened.”

“His lawyer will if we go to court. Oh my God.” Panic lights her eyes. “I’m not going to court, Shane. I’m not fucking testifying.”

“I doubt it’ll even reach that point,” I assure her. “I guarantee you he’ll plea out.” I gesture to the phone I dropped in the cup holder. “You’ve got pictures. You’ve got texts. His own words admitting it. This is a slam dunk.”

“Sure, you say that now, and then suddenly the next year, or however long it’ll take, will be spent dealing with this.” She makes a desperate noise in the back of her throat. “I don’t want him in my life anymore.”

“I don’t want him in your life either.” I gently touch her chin, forcing her to meet my gaze. “But let me ask you this—do you want him to find a new girlfriend? Because what if his new girlfriend makes him mad and then he hits her and gives her a black eye?”

Something flashes in Diana’s eyes. I think it’s anger.

“Yes,” I urge. “Good. Be angry, baby.” She needs to be angry. “You didn’t do anything wrong. You didn’t invite this. You didn’t deserve this. And you need to report this. If you do, I promise I’ll go with you. I’ll drive you to the police station in Hastings right now, and I won’t leave your side.” I stroke her cheek. “And if you want, I’ll be there when you talk to your dad. But this isn’t something you can sweep under the rug and—”

I stop suddenly.

“What is it?” she says.

“This is why you wanted me to pretend to be your boyfriend when he showed up at Meadow Hill,” I realize, cursing softly. “You were scared of him.”

I inhale through my nose and try to ground myself because once again, if Percy were in front of me, I’d be ripping his throat out with my bare hands.

“You should have told me,” I say gruffly.

She avoids my gaze. “I was ashamed.”

“You have nothing to be ashamed of.”

“I’m the girl whose boyfriend hit her. It’s pathetic.”

“Diana, stop. I know this is coming from a place of emotion, but once you’re able to take a step back and look at it rationally, you’re going to realize that that’s not who you are. There is nothing pathetic about you and never will be.”

“Do you promise?”

“I promise. And I promise to support whatever you decide to do, even if I disagree with it. With that said…” I grasp her chin to force eye contact. “Can I take you to the police station?”

Her mouth starts quivering again.

Then she nods.

CHAPTER FORTY-ONE

DIANA

You’re human

POLICE STATIONS SUCK. AND NOT ONLY BECAUSE THEY SMELL LIKE STALE coffee and the fluorescent lights give you migraines. They make you feel like you’re in trouble, even when you did nothing wrong. It’s an irrational response, I get that, but I can’t fight the feeling that everyone is judging me as I spend my Sunday at the station in Hastings.

I’m forced to go over my statement several times. The detective in charge prints all the photos and the text messages from my phone, then advises me they’ll need to contact my phone provider and verify things on their end too. Time stamps and such. She says they’ll do the same with Percy’s phone, once they get a warrant for it, and that they plan on bringing him into the station this evening.

I plan to be long gone before that happens. The idea of facing him makes me want to throw up. Yes, I faced him all summer. But this is different. It’s like we had this closet full of skeletons and both agreed to lock the door. And then, without his permission, I unlocked that door and shone a light onto what he did.

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