Page 50 of Brazen Criminals

I may not be done with my major yet, but I know he’s just separated me so he can tell if my answers are influenced by the guys, and he’s trying to put me at ease so I’m more likely to open up to him if I’m afraid or under duress. I’m none of those things, though, so I shrug with my good shoulder, take a sip of water too, and then tell the bare bones truth. “My crazy ex-boyfriend dislocated my shoulder last night.”

He pulls out a notepad. “Who is this crazy ex-boyfriend?”

“Bryce. Bryce Mason.”

The cop makes a note of that. “Now, I spoke with Bryce early this morning. He was in a bad spot and expressed concern for your well-being.”

“I’m sure he did. We broke up a few weeks ago, and for some stupid reason, he thinks I’ve been brainwashed or something. He keeps showing up, stalking me.” I look out the kitchen window, wishing I had coffee instead of this glass of water. “He’s lost it, and I honestly don’t ever want to see him again. He yanked my arm from its socket, and it hurts like hell. The worst thing? I’m supposed to run a half marathon in four weeks. Now I don’t know when I’ll be able to train again.” I feel tears threaten, but I don’t let them fall.

“What about after he hurt you? What happened next?”

“Trips stopped him.”

“Trips?”

I motion toward the living room, the cop confused, and I realize Trips is not his real name—I’m officially an idiot for not realizing it was a nickname until right now. “Mr. Westerhouse,” I stammer out, trying not to sound like a bitch. I’m going to murder someone for not telling me, I really am.

The cop nods, taking down a few more notes. “Now, I need some more details. These two young men have very different recollections of what happened last night. What really happened at that party, Clara?”

My right hand fists before tapping on my leg. “I told you. Bryce showed up, crazy, telling me he was going tosaveme. He dragged me away from my friends, and when I tried to get free, he dislocated my shoulder but didn’t let go. Trips broke in, got me free, and stopped Bryce. I got out of there fast. I was scared and in pain.” I shrug with my good shoulder again, wondering how many times the cop will ask me the same questions before he decides I’m not lying.

His lips press together. “Ms. McElroy. I don’t want to make this whole situation worse, but your ex-boyfriend was admitted to the emergency room with five dislocated fingers, a fractured zygomatic, two missing teeth, a broken nose, three cracked ribs, and a concussion. I wouldn’t call that ‘stopping him.’ I would call that aggravated assault by an unstable young man.”

I flash back to last night, Bryce’s gurgling screams and whimpers as I calmed Trips and got him out of there. I shake, swallowing back a flood of bile. I grab my shorts in my good hand, forcing my outside to be calmer than the swirling emotion inside of me. I meet Officer Tom’s eyes. Flashing him a sad smile, I struggle to keep my cool. “I honestly didn’t see much of anything. It was dark, and I was hurt. I just got away as fast as I could.”

His serious eyes look me over, not quite believing me. “I also find it odd that no one saw anything. There must have been hundreds of people at that party, and not one person saw a single thing. No one caught a minute of that fight on their phones. Strange, right?”

“Weird.” I smooth out my shorts, tapping my fingers,one two three four five. “I wish I could be more help.” I stand up, forcing Officer Reed to end the conversation. “I need to go to the doctor myself and have an x-ray of my arm taken. I want to make sure Bryce didn’t cause permanent damage.”

“Of course,” he says.

I stop him before we enter the living room, letting a bit of my fear leak out. “In your professional opinion, do you think Bryce will be back?”

My fear causes the officer’s sympathy to show. He looks down at his knuckles, like he wishes he had a different answer. “In most cases, stalkers only escalate. If what you said is true, this is going to get worse before it gets better.”

“What can I do?”

“I can set you up with a restraining order. Come to the precinct on Monday and we’ll get the paperwork started. But honestly, you’re already about as safe as you can be, as long as your roommates are looking out for you.”

I nod. “That’s what I thought. Thanks.” I lead him back to the living room.

The other cop is in a staring contest with Trips, and Trips is obviously winning, his arrogance incomparable. He looks away from the other cop with a dismissive huff. “Do you have what you need? Or should I call my lawyer?” Trips asks.

Officer Reed’s jaw clenches, but he nods at his partner. They both head toward the door. “I have what I need, but I wouldn’t leave town anytime soon,” Officer Reed says.

The two cops let Walker usher them out the door.

I take a few wobbly steps and flop down on the couch. “Oh God,” I whisper.

Trips snaps his fingers at me, and I shoot him a glare. He holds a finger over his lips. My anger flares. In what world does he have the right to shush me? I just walked a careful line with the truth and the cops for the man!

I’m about to get up and do something violent when Walker drags in an exhausted RJ. RJ paces around the room with a handheld beeping tablet computer. He does a lap around the outside of the room, circling in, before motioning for me to get off the couch and for Trips to get off the chair. After a moment, he looks at the machine. “Clean. Where else?”

“The kitchen and the front hall. Unless you brought the friendly officer farther into the house?” Trips glares at me.

“Just the kitchen. What the hell did I do wrong?” I shoot back.

Walker and RJ go into the kitchen, while Trips just grunts and glares at the front of the house. After an awkward moment, I sit up. “Can we talk yet?”

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