Page 162 of Tis the Season to be Bullied

Felt a thousand time longer than that.

A dark shape appears on the other side of the glass. I sit forward in a rush, my hands twisted in my lap. The handle turns, the door opens, but it’s not Thatcher who walks inside.

A vaguely familiar cop steps into the office, filling it with his presence. He’s slightly taller, slightly wider than Thatcher, but with steel-gray hair and eyes just a shade darker. His face is weather-worn, deep furrows beside his mouth.

“Miss Winters,” the man says, walking around Thatcher’s desk and studying the small office like he’s considering changing the wallpaper. “I’m Sheriff Di Toro. We haven’t met.”

“N-No,” I manage, swallowing. “Uh...where’s Detective Thatcher?”

“DeputyThatcher,” the sheriff corrects in an even voice, his gaze still roaming.

“Sorry, Deputy.”

“His shift ended at noon.” The sheriff finally looks at me, and I wish he’d just carried on staring around. “I’ll be handling your case.”

“Case? So...you—” I want to say “believe me” but thank fuck I swallow that down. “You’re opening a case against them?”

Damn, I’m shocked how smooth that came out. Thatcher has this comforting aura about him, but this sheriff guy is making my belly turn ugly shades of yellow.

“There are a few details I’d like some clarity on first, but yes, Miss Winters, hearing this disturbs me greatly.”

Good thing he told me, because it’s definitely not obvious looking at his face that he’s even a little put off by my story. He must make an excellent poker player.

“Thank you, Sheriff.” I squirm on my seat before I can control myself. “Uh...Deputy Thatcher said something about me not staying at the?—”

“No, Miss Winters. I feel it’s best you remain where you are for the time being. I will of course communicate with the dean to ensure that there are extra eyes on you.”

I don’t like a thing of what he just said. Not one fucking thing. I glance at the door, which he left wide open. “Is...uh...is Deputy Thatcher?—”

“He’s no longer on duty, Miss Winters.” There’s steel in the sheriff’s voice, and I turn back to him with reluctance. Despite his blank expression, I get the feeling he’s miffed that I keep asking for Thatcher.

“Okay. Uh...do I give you my statement now?” I ask.

“Yes,” Sheriff Di Toro says, sinking slowly down into Thatcher’s chair and tearing a new page off a pad of printed forms. “Let’s start with the date.”

I stare at him for a second, and then shake my head. “I...uh...can’t remember.”

He cocks his head at me. I hurriedly take out my phone and access the calendar. “Wait, let me just check...uh...”

“You witnessed three men attacking someone in the woods with a machete, after which they sexually assaulted you, injured you, and threatened your life...and you can’t recall the date?”

My cheeks are glowing. But the tremble on my mouth isn’t embarrassment anymore. It’s anger.

How fuckingdarehe? I squeeze my phone tight as I force my hand to stop shaking. I give him all the information he needs, relaying the ordeal in detail. He writes everything down on the form and scrawls his signature at the bottom. Then he slides it over the desk and taps his pen against the line where I have to sign.

“We will be in contact if there’s anything else we require from you, Miss Winters,” Sheriff Di Toro says as he stands and goes over to the door.

“Uh...what happens now?” I wrap my arms around myself as I step into the hallway.

“We’ll bring these young men in for questioning.” The sheriff watches me for a second before saying, “You’ll go back to theAcademy and do whatever it is kids do on the weekend in that place.” He shrugs like he doesn’t know, and doesn’t care what kids get up to.

“I mean, will you call me with an update?”

The sheriff looks down as he takes the statement he just completed and folds it carefully in half. “This is now a police matter, Miss Winters.” Then he turns and walks away.

I stare after him, my eyebrows at my fucking hairline, my jaw hanging.

What the fuck just happened?

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