Page 32 of He Doesn't Deserve You

As they dashed out of the waiting room, he heard a security guard shout, “Stop! Get back here!”

Ava started to cry as they charged across the parking lot to Mr. Longford’s car. “It’s okay,” Roman tried to reassure her, but it only made her cry harder.

“I want Mommy,” Ava cried.

Roman placed Ava in the back seat and quickly buckled her seatbelt. He paused for a moment, taking in her distressed expression, and thought to himself, “What am I doing?”

Realizing that only one thing would ease her distress, he gently said, “Okay, I’m taking you to Mommy.” After closing the back door, he swiftly moved to the front seat, started the car, and drove away with renewed urgency.

Roman carried Ava into the police station and immediately found himself staring at the barrel of a Glock 22.

“Put the child down and put your hands in the air,” the officer barked.

Roman complied, gently lowering Ava to the ground and lifting his hands into the air.

“Now, step away from the child,” the officer ordered.

Roman took two steps back, and another officer extended his hand to Ava. Seeing the look of fear on Ava’s face, Roman said, “It’s okay. They’re going to take you to mommy.”

Ava accepted the policeman’s hand and was rushed out of the lobby.

“I’m here to turn myself in,” Roman said calmly.

The police officer hesitated momentarily before lowering his gun and holstering it. He then moved behind Roman, lowering his raised hands and securing them in handcuffs, and read Roman his rights. He whisked Roman out of the lobby to an interrogation room, forced Roman into a chair, and said, “You’ve had a busy week.”

“I can explain,” Roman said, his voice steady. “But first, could you please take off these handcuffs?”

Seeing that the officer wasn’t sure about doing that, he said, “I turned myself in. I’m not going to run.”

The officer uncuffed him and said, “I’m Detective Martin.”

“Thank you, Detective Martin,” Roman said, rubbing his wrists.

Detective Martin sat across from Roman, switched on the recorder on the table between them, and said, “I’ve read your file. You have an impressive police record, even receiving a couple of awards. It makes me wonder how you got mixed up in all this.”

“It was because of my police experience that Emily came to me for help,” Roman began. “I don’t know how much she’s told you, but she’s being blackmailed.”

“I’ve heard some stories,” Detective Martin, said. “Why don’t you tell me your version?”

“I was home last Friday night when I got a call from my friend Travis. He said he was at the Ritz-Carlton with my friend, Emily, and that she needed help. He said she was incapacitated. He thought she might have been drugged. I told him I would be right there.”

“Once I arrived, I helped him get her to her room and put her to bed.”

Detective Martin raised an eyebrow, “He helped you put her to bed?”

“No, I’m sorry. He helped me get her to the room. I told him I could take it from there and sent him home.”

“So, you were the only one who entered her room?” Detective Martin asked.

Roman anticipated the implication and responded, “At that time, yes. But I didn’t rape her.”

“Who said anything about rape?”

“I know what you’re thinking. You think my friend Travis drugged her and then called me so I could come and have sex with her, but that’s not what happened.”

“So then tell me what happened.”

“Nothing. I put her to bed, then left.”

---