Page 3 of Raging Inferno

Presley wanted to argue that she was okay to go home now, but her body had other ideas. The next time she woke, the door opened, and Officer Deets stuck her head inside.

Presley scooted to a sitting position. “Helen, come in.” She figured they should be on a first-name basis since the woman had rescued her.

“How are you feeling?”

“Still a little fuzzy, but better. I hear I have you to thank for bringing me here.”

“No problem.” She held up a phone. “I grabbed this from your desk this morning.” She placed it on the bedside table. “I didn’t find a purse.”

“Thank you, and I don’t carry one. Can you tell me what happened? Where did you find me?”

“You don’t remember?”

Presley shook her head and regretted it when it pounded. “My memory is wiped.”

“I saw Captain Smith, uh, with you in his office. I could tell something was very wrong. You don’t look like a drug addict, but I’ve seen too many overdoses.”

Presley detected a note of sadness in her voice. “Did the captain tell you what happened to me?”

“No. He said you weren’t feeling well, and he was going to take you home, but I thought it was strange that he was kissing you and, uh, feeling you up.”

Images filtered in her head. She recalled his warm hand on her breast, pinching her nipple.

“I told him I would take you since our apartments are close together.” Helen shrugged. “Honestly, I have no idea where you live, but I knew you needed to go to the hospital, and in the spirit of sisterhood, I knew I had to be the one to take you. The captain thought you had too much to drink.”

“That’s not true,” Presley argued. “I was working on a murder case. Plus, they found Rohypnol in my system.”

Helen’s eyes widened. “You were roofied?”

“Yeah, but I don’t—”

The door swung open, and a man in a tan suit with a blue tie sauntered in. He wore sunglasses and sucked on a toothpick as he glanced around like he owned the place. Presley hated him on sight.

“Detective Parrish, is this a good time to talk?”

It was for him, seeing as how she was a captive audience, unfortunately. “Who are you?”

He flipped open a badge. “Rayburn, Internal Affairs.” He glanced from Presley to Helen. “You want to do this with a witness?”

She didn’t want to do it at all. Having a conversation with a member of the rat squad wasn’t at the top of her priority list.

“I need to get going, anyway. Glad you’re feeling better.” With a wave, Helen scurried out the door like her pants were on fire.

Presley frowned. What happened to sisterhood? She studied the man standing beside her bed as he removed his glasses. Average height with a slight paunch. His thinning gray hair was closely cropped, and his green eyes were laser-focused on her.

“Care to tell me what happened to you?”

“No.”

His brows narrowed. “No, as in you don’t care?”

“No, as in, I don’t know. My memory is wiped.”

“Allow me to fill in the blanks, Detective Parrish. Captain Ed Smith has filed a complaint against you.”

“What?”

Rayburn ignored her. “He said you two were working late, and you came into his office and hit on him. The captain rejected your advances and could tell you were impaired. He recruited,”he consulted his notebook, “Officer Deets to take you to the hospital.”

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