Page 74 of Reason to Believe (White Lace 2)

With an annoyed look, the nurse directed me to the end of the hallway. Although I should have known where Sadie was being held because of the two police officers standing in the doorway.

When I walked to her room, I nodded to one of the officers then slipped inside. Six beds, three on each side, were spaced out around the large room. Blue sheets hung from the ceiling, making it

so that each bed had its own private space.

I walked over to the second bed, and when I stepped around the curtain, I gasped. I couldn’t help it. Tears stung my eyes and my heart, which was already racing much too fast than was healthy.

Sadie’s face was swollen, her right eye pink and bloody. Her upper lip cut and crusted over with blood. White bandages held her face together in several spots. Her arm was in a sling and her left leg was in a cast.

“Sadie.” Her name fell from my lips in a whisper.

She was heavily medicated, hooked up to several monitors, and when I walked in, a doctor was looking over her chart.

He gave me the details. Her nose had been broken. She had several contusions on her face, arms, and legs. Her wrist was sprained and her left ankle was broken. She had weeks of recovery ahead of her.

“Miss?” One of the police officers made their way to our section of the hospital room.

Oh, shit! Suddenly my clothes were too tight and much too confining, as I started to sweat with nervousness.

“I’m Officer Higgins. The hospital called in a potential assault. Your friend is refusing a sex kit.”

“I…” Fuck. What should I say?

“Do you know who might have done this to her?” he asked.

I shook my head. Technically that was the truth. She hadn’t spoken to me yet. But it didn’t matter if I knew, because even if she identified her attacker, there was no way she could report it to the police.

“Does she have a husband? Anyone she might be dating?”

“You’ll have to wait until she’s conscious and ask her.” I didn’t know what to do. What to say. I felt like the cop could tell that Sadie was an escort, that I had been an escort, just by looking at us.

Which was completely ridiculous. If anything, I was just covering up for an abusive boyfriend or husband. Not the fact that my friend engaged in illegal activities.

“Is there any way you can come back tomorrow? She’s been through a lot and she’s still in a lot of pain and on a lot of medication.”

The police officer handed over his card. “Please have her call when she’s coherent. I’ll come by and take her statement.”

I already knew what her statement was going to be—“I don’t remember.” She’d be too afraid of what would happen to her if they found out she was an escort. Whoever did this to her was probably going to get away with it.

Fuck. This was bad.

“Please let Ms. Spencer know that we will do everything we can to bring the person to justice.”

I nodded as he walked away, stealing a glance at Sadie, who was thankfully still out cold.

I pulled a chair closer to the bed and sat down, resting my hand beside her. With a heavy, unaware sigh, she snuggled deeper into the mattress.

Two beds down a daughter fought with her elderly mother about being a drama queen. Apparently it was their third trip to emergency in five weeks. In the bed across from us, a middle-aged couple sat with a doctor, who explained that the husband had had a mild heart attack. The wife sobbed into her hands uncontrollably as the husband patted her back. A shrill wail sounded from down the hall, a child screaming at the top of his lungs. Given that Sadie was exhausted and fragile, I was glad the kid wasn’t in her room.

I sat with her for a few hours as she nodded in and out of consciousness. I had wanted to call Everly and tell her about the situation, but Sadie had made me promise that I wouldn’t tell a soul. I understood her decision. Right now she was feeling ashamed. Victimized.

I thought back to how close I had come to being Scott’s plaything. Why had I been lucky? Why had I been able to turn the tables and stop him from taking his sick actions any further?

“Grace.” I recognized Sadie’s voice. It was familiar yet different. The same soft sound, but an unfamiliar uncertainty to her timbre.

I looked up and she was watching me. When I asked, “Who did this to you?” all she did was look away.

The action was worse than any response she could have given me. She wouldn’t look me in the eye. That action alone told me she was broken, not just on the outside. And it, in turn, broke my heart.

---