“I can carry her,” I offer. His eyes glide over me. “No offense, sir, but you don’t look like you can even carry yourself. You wanna tell me what happened?”
“Yeah. Before I forget, though, I have a 9mm in a holster at my back. I have a license to carry.”
“Alright. I’m gonna come get it, okay? I need you to keep your hands where I can see them.”
I nod and hold my hands out in front of me, noticing the blood covering them. I swallow, not knowing if it’s mine or Matilda’s. I feel him take the gun before he passes it to his partner.
“You have anything else on you?”
“Only my phone.”
As the paramedics ease Matilda flat to the ground and begin doing their checks, I get to my feet and face the officer who took my gun.
“Mind if I pat you down?”
I shake my head and hold my arms out again, this time at my sides with my legs slightly parted. Once he’s done, he nods to his partner, who holsters his own gun, ready in case I try something.
“Okay, walk me through what happened.”
So I do, from the second we pulled off the set to the moment I pulled her from the wreckage.
“I probably shouldn’t have moved her, but the car’s leaking fuel,” I explain to the paramedics. One of them looks up at me. “If the car had blown up, she’d have died. This way, she at least has a fighting chance. Sometimes the choices you have to make are shitty. Doesn’t mean you didn’t make the right call though.”
I nod, knowing he’s right.
“Would you come down to the station so we can get a full statement?”
“Yeah, after I get my fiancée to the hospital and someone to watch her.”
“You think this person deliberately attacked you?”
“Yes. I was hired by Matilda when she started to feel unsafe, and given her history, she wasn’t willing to take any risks.”
“Her history?”
I look from the cops to the paramedics, realizing that with her face covered in blood, nobody has recognized her.
“My fiancée is Matilda Carson. She had a stalker before, one who ended up setting a trap involving acid. She and a couple of her co-stars were hurt.”
“Shit, I remember that. The guy is still in prison, right?” the officer, who up until now had been quiet, asks.
“He admitted his guilt, but there were no witnesses to him actually setting things up. The stalking started with Post-it note messages and dead birds before things took a darker turn. I was called in when she started receiving Post-it notes and dead birds once more.”
“She should have reported this to the police.”
“She did. She was told it was either in her head, that she had PTSD symptoms, or that she wanted the attention. We have literally just left two cops on the set where we’ve been filming, dealing with the stalker’s latest offering.” I wave my arm around to show the smoking car. “Maybe they’ll take her seriously now.”
A groan pulls my attention.
“Easy miss, stay still for me.” One of the paramedics tries to comfort Tilly, but I can see the panic taking hold.
I drop to my knees beside her and lean over so she can see my face. She stills immediately.
“It’s okay. I’m right here. They’re just looking you over, baby, before we get you to the hospital.”
“No hospital,” she murmurs.
“Sorry gorgeous, but that’s a battle you won’t win.”