Page 22 of Kept By the Loan Shark

Chapter Seven

Sore and uncomfortable, I adjusted the bed and tried to find a position that didn’t make my back hurt. Just when I thought I had finally found it, someone knocked on my door. I sighed and then inwardly groaned as two police officers walked into the room.

“Hi, Cassie,” the female officer greeted. “I’m Officer Delgado and this is Officer Greene. Is it okay if we come in and chat for a bit?”

“Um, sure, I guess,” I replied uncertainly.

“Great.” Officer Delgado smiled as she shut the door behind them. “How are you feeling?”

“Like someone drilled a hole in my head,” I said matter-of-factly.

Officer Greene chuckled. “I bet you do.”

“So,” Officer Delgado said as she pulled up a chair, “we were able to get your clothing from the ER last night. It will be processed for evidence. We also have some statements from neighbors who saw the assault. Do you think you could walk us through what happened?”

I took a deep breath and told them everything I could remember. From the questions Officer Greene asked, it was clear they knew all the details except for what Janine said to me. I hesitated before telling them, not wanting to implicate Hagen in the attack on Travis.

“Do you think that’s what happened?” Officer Delgado asked.

“That Hagen attacked Travis over a laundry basket? No. Of course not,” I insisted. “He’s not going to risk jail over ten dollars.”

“Maybe it wasn’t about the baskets,” Officer Greene suggested. “Maybe it was about sending a message that no one disrespects his girl.”

“No. Hagen wouldn’t do that. That’s not who he is.”

“You sure about that?” Officer Delgado asked.

“Yes.” Not in the mood for any more questions about Hagen, I said, “Can we wrap this up? My head is killing me, and I just want to sleep.”

“Sure. Sorry,” she apologized. “We need some photos of your injuries if that’s okay?”

“That’s fine.”

Officer Greene stepped out of the room to get Vicky. She helped the officers shift me onto my side to get photos of the bruises on my back and bottom as well as clear shots of the bandaged wound on my head. When they were finished, they placed a business card on the rolling cart and left.

“You okay?” Vicky asked as she rearranged my pillows and straightened out my various IV and drain lines.

“Yes.”

“I think you should ask for no visitors tonight and tomorrow. You need to rest. You’ve had people in and out all day. I think you would benefit from some uninterrupted quiet and sleep.” She tucked the blanket around my waist. “I can tell Hagen when he comes and have him let your friends know that you need to rest.”

“Okay,” I said, trying to stifle a yawn. “Can he stay the night?”

“That chair reclines.” She gestured to the chair closer to the wall. “It won’t be comfortable, and it’s too short for him, but he’ll survive.” She pulled the rolling tray closer to my bed so I could reach the water if I wanted it. “Do you need anything else?”

“No.”

“We are about to start shift change. Ameka, your night nurse, will come in and introduce herself and give your next dose of pain meds. She’s really great. You’ll be in good hands.”

Smiling at her, I watched her leave the room and then sagged into the pillows propping me up in the uncomfortable bed. Exhaustion overwhelmed me, and I dozed off again. It seemed as if my eyes had been closed only a minute when I was awoken by a slight tug on my IV. I gazed, bleary-eyed, at the new nurse at my left side.

“Sorry, hon, I didn’t mean to wake you,” she apologized quietly. “I’m Ameka. I’m your nurse tonight.” She tapped at the touchscreen monitor next to my bed, updating my record, and then scanned the barcode on the capped syringe in her hand. “These are your pain meds. How are you feeling now? On a scale of one-to-ten?”

“A six, I guess,” I answered uncertainly. My head was pounding, the thud deep and harsh as it caused my stomach to churn with nausea. “Can I have something to settle my stomach?”

“Of course,” Ameka replied quickly. “You have orders for anti-nausea meds. Would you like me to get rid of this dinner tray?”

“If I could just get something to drink, I’ll be fine,” I said, the idea of any kind of food making the nausea even worse. The scent of the broth that had tasted so good at lunch now made me want to gag. “Something cold,” I added. “Please.”

---