Chapter 2 - The Hospital Lights
The emergency room smelled of iodine, cheap coffee, and stale despair. I sat in a plastic chair outside Trauma Room 3, my clothes still damp from the rain.
Two of my colleagues from the precinct had taken Ethan away. He had walked out of the house with his head held high, looking at the responding officers with an expression of mild inconvenience rather than guilt. That was the privilege of wealth and influence. He believed the system worked for him.
A doctor finally emerged, pulling off his latex gloves. He looked exhausted.
"Detective Bennett?" he asked.
I stood up instantly. "How is she?"
"She has two fractured ribs, a mild concussion, a hairline fracture on her left cheekbone, and extensive contusions. She’s stable, but she’s in a lot of pain. We’ve administered painkillers." The doctor paused, his eyes softening. "I've seen a lot of falls, Detective. This wasn't a fall."
"I know," I said, my jaw tight. "I need the medical report expedited to the DA's office. Document every single scratch."
"We already are. You can go in and see her now."
I pushed the door open. Claire looked impossibly small in the hospital bed. The harsh fluorescent lights washed out whatever color was left in her face. The right side of her face was a dark, angry canvas of purple and blue.
I pulled a chair to her bedside and took her uninjured hand.
"Hey," I whispered.
Claire opened her good eye. A tear slipped down her temple into her hair. "I'm sorry," she croaked.
"Don't you ever apologize for this," I said fiercely, leaning closer. "He did this. Not you."
"He's going to ruin us, Mara. His family... his lawyers. He told me if I ever tried to leave, he would make sure I ended up with nothing. He said nobody would believe a woman with a history of anxiety."
"I believe you. And I'm a cop." I squeezed her hand. "But I need you to be brave, Claire. Tomorrow, the detectives from the Special Victims Unit are going to come here. You have to tell them everything. You have to press charges."
Panic flared in her eye. She tried to sit up but winced, clutching her ribs. "If I testify... he'll kill me. You didn't see his eyes tonight, Mara. He wasn't just hitting me. He was trying to erase me."
"He's in a holding cell. He can't hurt you."
"He has money, Mara! Money buys doors that badges can't open!" she cried out, her monitor beeping faster.
I stood up, resting both hands gently on her shoulders to calm her. The truth was, she wasn't entirely wrong. Ethan’s father was a prominent state senator. His mother owned half the real estate in the city. They were the kind of people who made problems disappear with a phone call.
But I was her twin. We shared a heartbeat before we shared a world.
"Claire, look at me," I said, locking eyes with her. "They have money. But we have the truth. And I swear to God, I will burn my own badge before I let him get near you again. You are not going back to that house. You are coming home with me."
She closed her eyes, letting out a long, shuddering breath. "Okay. Okay, I'll talk to them."
I stayed by her side the entire night, watching the monitor, watching her breathe. As dawn broke, casting a pale, gray light through the hospital window, my phone buzzed. It was my captain.
May you like
"Bennett," the voice on the line was gruff. "Get to the precinct. The Vance family just walked in with Charles Sterling. The best defense attorney in the state. Ethan is making bail."
The battle hadn't even begun.
