Page 109 of A First Sight

Backed into a corner, I reached out, my hands grasping for anything I could use to fend him off.

Dale’s fist cocked back, ready to use his forward momentum when a shadow tackled him.

“Stay down,” Drake ordered as he pushed himself up and planted his knee in Dale’s stomach. “It’s over, you fuckin’ twat.” He glanced at me to check if I was okay.

I looked at Dale as the police burst through the front door and grabbed hold of Mr. Leighton.

Yes, it was definitely over.

EIGHTY

MAGGIE

“You sure you’re okay?”

I cupped Drake’s face in my hand. “I am. How did you know I was here and how did you get in?”

“The backdoor was wide open.” He chuckled.

I smiled but my emotions were chaotic. I couldn’t put words to what I was feeling. Drake just held me, his lips pressed against the top of his head, my face in his chest.

Detective Kozuch looked at Drake and frowned. “You’re bleeding.”

Panic spiked as I followed the detective’s gaze and saw a small patch of crimson on Drake’s shirt.

“It’s nothing,” he said.

“You tore open your cut. We need a paramedic.”

It didn’t take the paramedic long to assess the wound and patch Drake up, giving him a butterfly bandage and instructions not to tackle anyone else for at least forty-eight hours.

“Do you want us to meet you at the station?” Drake asked the detective. “We know the way.”

“That would be good,” Detective Kozuch replied.

When we got to the station, they separated us, and Kozuch took me to a back interview room, passing by a couple of closed-door interrogation rooms where I thought the Leightons might be.

“Do you mind if I record this?” the detective asked. I agreed. Then, as he set out his recorder, he added, “Before we start, I have to tell you that what you did tonight was supremely stupid. If you knew where Dale was, you should have called us and let us handle it.”

“I’m pretty sure I’m also going to get this lecture from Drake and my brother,” I said, “and probably from at least half a dozen other family members once they hear what happened.”

“Which should probably be a good sign that it wasn’t the best idea.” The detective sat down across from me.

I sighed. “You’re right, but I can’t go back and change it, so can we just skip to me giving my statement?”

In reply, Kozuch turned on the recorder. “Let’s do it.”

I recounted the events for the detective and his recorder.

Fifteen minutes later, the door opened, and a young man came in, handing over a folder. Kozuch held out a sheet of paper to me.

I didn’t understand what I was seeing.

It was a loan approval that bore both Dale’s name and mine.

“Did you co-sign for this loan with Dale Leighton?” the detective asked, but something in his tone told me he knew my answer.

“No.” I pushed the paper back to him. “We had a single joint checking account, that’s it.”

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