Page 40 of Resist Me Not
My boyfriend easily could have killed me last night.
I have to calm down. I don’t even want to guess where my blood pressure is at, and I’ve used my rescue inhaler too many times today. I’ve managed to keep a full panic attack fromratcheting up, but for how much longer. I can’t think clearly through all this without feeling my pulse and breath quicken.
It’s close to seven already. My eyes keep drifting to my FIRST DO NO HARM poster. Usually, looking at it comforts me. It’s a reminder of everything I’ve worked so hard for, and everything I want to accomplish as a doctor. Today, I have to wonder…
Is it harm to let my boyfriend get away with murder?
Is Trey my boyfriend after our culminating fourth date?
And being an accessory to murder.
My phone rings from where I left it face down on the coffee table, and my breath catches a little too much again. I have to stay calm, take in slow, even breaths, or I’m going to be passed out when Trey gets here. It’s probably him calling to tell me he’s on his way or already downstairs.
My hand is a little shaky when I turn my phone over.
Shit. It’s that detective again. Why is he calling me now? My messages and missed calls from last night and early this morning were from him and a few of Curtis’s friends. They’d all been called in to talk to the detective and were warning me he’d probably ask me too, which he had. I knew he could tell how nervous I was the entire time. I must have had guilty written all over me.
Shit.
Shit, shit, shit!
“Um, hello? Detective Clancy?” I answer.
“Good evening, Doctor Hammond.”
I feel every muscle in my body tense. This guy has authority so bred into his voice, of course he became a cop. All the messages he’d left me made me feel the same spike of fight or flight. He’s just so classically hardboiled and grizzled like something out of a noir film.
“My apologies for bothering you again today, but while Mr. Van Kirk’s missing persons case is technically no longer active,pending evidence of foul play, a few things haven’t been sitting well with me.”
Fuck.
“I’ve done a little more digging today and wouldn’t you know it, there might be cause to reopen the case. Can you come back in tomorrow morning to answer a few more questions?”
I need my inhaler. He must know something. But I can’t very well say no. “O-okay. I can be there. What time?”
“How about nine? Looking forward to it, Doctor Hammond. You’ve been a tremendous help.”
A knock on my door almost makes me yelp into the phone. “U-uh huh. Of course. Anything to make sure Curtis is okay.” Even though I know he’s dead, and if Trey always uses the same tactics, he was disposed of in multiple trash bags, because Trey cut his body into pieces.
Oh, fucking Hell, what am I doing?
“Good night, Doctor Hammond.”
“Good night.”
Another knock does make me yelp this time, but the call has thankfully ended.
Do I tell Trey?
Or do I tell the detective the truth tomorrow after Trey has left town?
I have no idea, but I know I don’t need the anxiety of hearing another knock, so I hurry to the door to let Trey in.
Seeing him makes me feel weirdly better, even though he’s the reason I’ve been spinning out all day. He looks prim and perfect as always in the same white button-down, khaki-colored slacks, and matching blazer he was wearing earlier. He has a large roller suitcase with him with an attached carry-on. He also has a bag of takeout from Saffron, my favorite Indian restaurant a few blocks away. I told him it was my comfort food whenever I was stressed studying or had a rough day at work.
He remembered.
“You look awful,” Trey says with a furrowed brow and sweeps inside, leading me back to the sofa. He does it all so fluidly, I don’t even see how or when he closes the door, or how he led me but still brought his luggage inside. “Well, you never look awful, Walker, but you do look frazzled. Have you eaten anything today?”
