Page 11 of Smitten with the Single Dad

“And you don’t think what you’re wearing is …” The cop’s index finger pointed up and down Vica’s outfit, “maybe sending mixed messages?”

“She could be wearing a sign that said ‘Fuck me, big boy’ and nothing else, and it would still be assault,” Wyatt said, heat filling his cheeks. “But I happen to think her outfit isn’t suggestive at all. What would you prefer she wear so you are more inclined to believe her? A nun’s habit? Parka perhaps? What about just a straight up sheet right over her face all the way to the floor?”

“Mr. McEvoy, there is no need for snarkiness or sarcasm. I’m just doing my job.”

“You’re victim blaming,” Wyatt shot back. “Look at her face. She’s bleeding and I’m sure if you scraped under her nails you’d find the guy’s DNA.”

“We’re not set up for that here,” Jenkins said blandly.

“How convenient,” Dom muttered.

Jenkins focused back on Vica. “You mean to tell me you weren’t sending him mixed messages at all today? No flirting? No prolonged stares? Nothing that could have been misconstrued as your interest?”

Both Dom and Wyatt made noises in their throat to convey their disgust at the cop’s line of questions.

Vica shook her head. “I have always been very upfront with the fact that I wanted to keep our relationship professional. I’m also just not attracted to him. So even if he wasn’t my boss, I wouldn’t go out with him.”

Jenkins still didn’t seem convinced.

Wheezing like he’d just set the new world record sprint, Officer Fischer slowly made his way up the small incline toward them, reaching for his handcuffs with one hand while he swept the sweat from his brow with the other. “We need to bring you to the station and detain you until morning,” he said. “Ask more questions.” He glanced at Jenkins. “I called Dr. Malone. He’s on his way to pick up the body.”

“She’s not going anywhere with you,” Wyatt said. “It was self-defense, and she’s traumatized. You’re treating her like a criminal.”

“A man is dead on the beach, Mr. McEvoy. She is a criminal,” Jenkins replied.

“I’m calling Gabrielle,” Dom said, reaching for his phone. “I think she maintains her law license even though she doesn’t practice anymore.” He punched in Gabrielle’s number and stepped away.

Wyatt still hadn’t let go of Vica’s hand, and now she was squeezing it harder than ever. “Look,” he said, using every single calming technique he could think of to not lose his shit on these idiot cops, “there’s no ferry until morning. She’s traumatized and injured. Let her stay here for the night. We’ll get her cleaned up, and you can come by in the morning and we can go from there. She can’tgo anywhere anyway. Why make her sleep in your cold, dank holding cell if she doesn’t have to?”

“Gabrielle’s on her way,” Dom said, returning to their little circle.

Jenkins and Fischer exchanged looks just as Justine returned. She made sure to stand on the other side of Vica for moral support.

“What’s the plan?” Justine asked.

“We’d like to take Ms. Vitale into custody,” Officer Jenkins said. “But Mr. McEvoy is making it difficult.”

“Well, based on the fact that you haven’t written anything down, or offered Ms. Vitale the opportunity to document her assault with afemalepolice officer and doctor, I’d say Mr. McEvoy isn’t making it difficult, he’s simply advocating for an assault victim.”

Yes!Well-put, Justine.

Fischer and Jenkins squirmed and made old man noises.

More headlights flashed down the laneway this time from a van.

“That’s Grayson,” Justine said, waving down Dr. Grayson Malone, her boss before pivoting back to the cops. “Why haven’t either of you called Officer Bruce and asked her to attend the scene considering the nature of this crime.”

“The body is that of a deadman,” Fischer said like the imbecile that he was. “What good will Myla do?”

“I wasn’t referring to man who made a series of poor choices and ultimately paid the price,” Justine said, deadpanned. “I was referring to the assault. Because assaultisa crime. Is it not?”

More squirming and uncomfortable old man noises. Did Fischer just fart?

Grayson turned off the van behind the police cruiser and hopped out. Justine left her post beside Vica and joined him. He opened up the back of his van and pulled out a spine board, following Justine down to the beach.

“Aren’t you going to take any pictures or … is this your first day on the job?” Wyatt asked the cops, his decorum on its way to fully snapping.

Jenkin’s nostrils flared.

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