Page 9 of Finding Gwen

Iput my truck in park in the hospital lot and lessened my grip on the steering wheel as I looked around for Jason. It had made sense for us to drive separately since I lived on the same side of town as the hospital and he had just finished clean-up at the warehouse when he got the call. That meant I had to wait for him and downtime was never good for me. My mind started to wander, remembering the feeling of Gwendalyn’s arm under my hand. The electricity I had felt when our skin made contact had my body responding in ways it hadn’t in years, long before my ex-wife.

When I had opened the front door to the house and heard my son’s laughter, I swore I was hallucinating. I could count on one hand the number of times I have heard that laugh. Oliver had always been an easy-going boy, friendly to a fault with everyone he had ever met, as if his little brain never truly understood the trauma he had gone through at an early age. I noticed the way he was clinging to her before he saw me standing in the doorway, as if he trusted her completely.

All it took was fifteen minutes in the same room as her and I had felt the same way. There was something about her, the way she stood behind Oliver protectively and talked to him on his level, that made me want to do anything to get her to stay. I hoped my sudden need to leave didn’t sway her in the end, but at the same time, this was my life, and I needed someone who understood that. At the end of all this, I hoped she would still want to stay.

Jason’s car driving through the lot toward me pulled me from my thoughts. Turning off my truck as he parked next to me, I jumped out, double checking that my badge and gun were still attached to my belt, then slipped on my jacket. Jason stepped out of his car, his tall frame unfolding as he did so, and I chuckled at the sight.

“Shut up, asshole.” Jason shot me a look. He hated having to drive his car, typically opting to ride his beloved 1959 Harley Davidson Sportster motorcycle whenever possible. He had helped his dad restore it long before Jason even had his license. I knew how to ride, and when we first became partners, we would go out together. Jason still had his old man’s bike in storage, so I didn’t have much of a reason to own one.

“Where’s your Harley?” I asked.

“I had already locked her up for the night. There have been too many lowlifes wandering around my apartment complex lately, and I couldn’t risk someone getting to her.” He shrugged as he walked around his car with a large cup of coffee in one hand while his other pulled a notepad from his back pocket, already turned to a page covered in his chicken scratch. I had never understood how that man could read his own handwriting.

“You have any idea what we’re walking into?” I pulled my own notepad from my back pocket, the worn pages threatening to fall apart with every use. Flipping through countless pages of assault interviews, I found a blank sheet and pulled out a pen from my inside jacket pocket.

“Female, twenty-nine. She was admitted a few hours ago.” He deciphered his notes as I took down my own, making them legible for when we would ultimately need them later. “They’ve already done a rape kit, and she’s agreed to talk to us. Not sure why we got called in instead of the on-shift detectives, though.” He flipped his notebook closed with a flick of his wrist before shoving it into his pocket as he led the way through the doors into the hospital lobby.

“Probably because you’ve pissed off the captain one too many times,” I said under my breath, but Jason shot a smirk over his shoulder toward me. Internally, I was just as irritated as he was about being called in when we should be off-shift, but the more time we put in, the higher we would go on the totem pole. Soon enough, there would be detective rookies who got these late evening calls. Until then, Jason and I would be first on the list. He really needed to keep his smartass remarks under wraps during roll call.

Jason strolled up to the lobby desk, flashing the nurse on duty his infamous smile, the one that got him anything he wanted. He set the coffee cup on the desk before sliding it toward her. “Hello, my sweet Samantha. How are you doing this fine evening?”

Grabbing the coffee, she took a long sip before setting it down. “Detective Kregler, a pleasure under normal circumstances. I’m relieved they actually sent you two. I had asked the dispatcher to assign y’all, but they mentioned you were off duty.” The playfulness in her expression melted away as she typed away at her computer. Jason looked back at me over his shoulder, and I acknowledged him, understanding now why we were the ones called.

“Anyone sitting with her?” Jason turned his attention back to Samantha.

“One of my nurses. Her name is Sophie Brown. She lives alone and doesn’t have family nearby.” She wrote the room number on a post-it note, sighing as she handed it to Jason. “She’s still pretty shaken.”

“Thanks, Samantha. Have a good night.” Jason nodded to her, then glanced down at the number, heading toward the room.

Before going after my partner, I offered a quick nod of my head. She flashed a sad smile from behind the coffee cup she had brought back to her mouth.

Jogging after Jason, I caught up to him as he stopped in front of a door. Double checking the room number, he shoved the post-it into his pocket as he turned to me. I gave him a knowing look, and he nodded his head in agreement. Jason was typically the one to take on the role of questioning, giving the survivors his full attention while I took notes. If Ms. Brown was still shaken from her encounter, it would make sense why Samantha requested us. For some unknown reason, Jason was always able to make people feel safe, despite his rough exterior. Maybe that was exactly the reason people felt they were able to open up and talk about what they went through.

Jason knocked, waiting for the soft, “Come in,” from the other side before he opened the door. As we walked in, I took in the room. Ms. Brown was sitting in a recliner chair in the far corner with a blanket wrapped around her shoulders and one tucked across her lap. A nurse was sitting beside her on a stool, holding her hand and whispering to her. Ms. Brown kept her focus on her lap, not making eye contact as we silently made our way across the space. The nurse stood up, offering her stool to Jason, then moved to stand next to Ms. Brown, as if knowing he preferred sitting when conducting interviews so he wouldn’t tower over everyone.

He sat down, and the wheels of the stool squeaked. “Ms. Brown, I’m Detective Jason Kregler,” he began in a soft voice. “You can call me Jason, though. This is my partner, Detective Anthony Marino. Are you comfortable telling us about what happened to you?”

Ms. Brown nervously nodded her head, a tear escaping down her cheek. “Ye-yes. Um, you can call me Sophie.”

I reached for the box of tissues next to the bed, handing it to the nurse so she could offer it to Sophie, before stepping back to where I was standing. Jason and I had been at this long enough to know that most survivors at this point are still pretty apprehensive around men. We typically tried to reduce contact and keep as much distance as possible.

“Alright, Sophie. Take your time; as much as you need. Whenever you’re ready, start from wherever you feel most comfortable,” Jason spoke, his hands clenched together in front of him, ready to listen to whatever she was able to give us. Continuing to stand nearby, I pulled out my notepad, ready to take notes.

Closing the door behind him, Jason joined me in the hallway, leaving Sophie with the nurse to talk about next steps, including helping her find resources for expressing the inevitable emotions she would have to navigate. I had put our cards on the table near the bed, letting her know if she thought of anything else to not hesitate to reach out.

Looking down at my watch, I groaned at the time and checked my phone for any messages or missed calls. It was close to 8 p.m., which meant Oliver should be going to bed soon. Jason and I still needed to write up our report, as well as debrief with the captain. All I wanted was to get back to my house, so Gwendalyn and I could have a conversation. Making my way out to the parking lot, I was so focused on getting to my truck that I didn’t realize Jason was hot on my heels.

“Hey, Tony, wait up a second!” Only Jason called me that. He knew I hated it, and using the unwelcome nickname was his way of getting my attention. I stopped in my tracks, just outside the hospital doors, as Jason walked up behind me. “How’d the nanny interrogation go? Is she hot?”

I spun around, my fist connecting with Jason’s jaw. Surprise flashed across his features as he cupped his chin. Shaking out my hand, I grimaced. “Shit, I’m—”

“What the fuck, man?” he cut me off. I had no clue what had come over me, but my body was shaking with fury. Twenty minutes in the same room as Gwendalyn, not even alone, and already my brain was claiming her in some possessive way. Jason smirked at me, as if he had just read my mind.

“It’s not like that. Oliver was laughing. Laughing!” Heat rose in my chest, trying to make sense of what was happening as my voice grew louder. “I can count on one hand the number of times I’ve heard that little boy laugh!” I yelled, somehow mere inches away from Jason’s chest.

Jason grabbed my upper arms, dragging me away from the doors. I jerked out of his grasp, annoyed–at myself, not him–but he didn’t need to know that. His hands shot in the air in a defensive stance. “Shit. Okay, I get it.”

Closing my eyes, I clenched my jaw. I seriously needed to get a grip. All of this was so unlike me. So out of control.

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