When she hung up, Sara squatted beside her. “What about you?” She reached out and prodded Violet’s cheek, her intrusive fingers probing the base of Violet’s eye socket. It took every ounce of willpower Violet had not to cry out, but the last thing she wanted was to let on how badly she was injured. All she really wanted was to go home, take a long, hot bath, and crawl into bed.
Scratch that, just the bed. And maybe some extra-strength Tylenol.
“I don’t feel anything moving,” Sara said almost absently as her fingers explored the injury, and Violet had to bite down on the inside of her lip to keep it from quivering. “How’s this?” Without warning, Sara applied pressure.
Violet jolted and squeezed her eyes shut, waiting until the stars behind her eyelids disappeared. She reopened them slowly, her hands fisted at her sides, somehow managing not to cry. “It’s—it’s fine,” she hissed from between clenched teeth. “Great, in fact. I think it probably looks worse than it is, you know?”
She definitely didn’t want Sara calling an ambulance. She already didn’t know how she was going to explain this to her parents.
Her parents. Her stomach dropped and her head reeled. There was no way she wanted to explain that she’d just been attacked outside the Center. They were worried enough about what she was doing with her new team. If they knew she’d been assaulted . . .
Violet couldn’t let herself think what that might mean. Still, she should call someone, she supposed; she definitely didn’t think she could drive herself home. Maybe Jay would come get her.
Of course he would, she silently corrected herself. He was Jay; he was always there for her.
She glanced around, her eyes darting back and forth nervously.
“What’s wrong?” Sara asked, following Violet’s gaze.
“My purse. I must’ve dropped it when . . . when he grabbed me. Maybe it’s by my car.”
“It’s okay, we’ll look for it after the police get here. They’re on their way now.”
Violet nodded. Of course. The police would find it, probably in the same place she’d dropped her phone.
Sara knelt down beside Violet while they waited. “I’m so sorry about this.” She patted Violet’s knee, doing her best to comfort her. “No one should have to go through what you just did.”
“I’m just glad you heard me.”
Sara frowned, looking intensely at Violet. “What are you talking about?”
“The call button. I couldn’t get to my keycard so I pushed the call button. I was hoping you’d know I needed help when you heard the buzzer.” Wasn’t that why Sara had come looking for her? “Didn’t you hear it?”
Sara shook her head, slowly, hesitantly. “No. I didn’t.” And then she stood up, brushing off her knees as the sound of sirens approached. She looked down at Violet, who was confused now. “It was Rafe. He called me and said something was wrong. He said he was sure you were in trouble.”
For the second time in her life Rafe had saved her, something she was more than just grateful for.
She knew she didn’t need to go to the hospital by the time she’d finished answering questions and recounting her statement over and over again. She was scraped, especially on her hands, and bleeding from some small gashes on her hands and elbows. But once she’d cleaned them up, she realized they weren’t serious. A little peroxide and some Band-Aids and she’d be good as new, she was sure of it.
It was the shivering that was making her crazy, since she couldn’t seem to make it stop. It was the kind that had nothing to do with cold and everything to do with the fact that she’d just gotten the crap kicked out of her.
Violet sat in the passenger seat of Sara’s SUV, hugging herself and glancing nervously up and down the street, watching as police cars, both marked and unmarked, came and went. From down in the alley, there were constant flashes from a camera as crime-scene investigators recorded evidence. Sara finished up with one of the female officers who had taken Violet’s statement. They chatted in a way that made Violet suspect they knew each other outside of this situation, which she realized wasn’t that far off, since Sara seemed to know everyone in law enforcement.
Violet’s questioning hadn’t taken all that long, and she’d been surprised when someone told her she’d only been outside the Center less than five minutes. The attack felt as if it had lasted hours.
She kept the window down, and could hear snippets of Sara’s conversation with the officer she spoke to: “. . . he’d been following her,” Violet heard Sara explaining to the woman who took notes. “. . . he knew what school she went to . . .” Sara looked up, glancing past the officer’s shoulder, to where Violet was sitting. “. . . thought she’d seen what he’d done . . .” She continued, and Violet wondered if Sara knew she could hear them. “I wish someone would’ve told me the charges didn’t stick . . .”
Violet wanted to hear the rest, but that was when she saw the black Acura pull up. Jay’s car.
She climbed out of Sara’s car on shaky legs as Jay was stopped by one of the uniformed officers. She saw Jay reach for his ID and hand it to the cop. She waited where she was, still shivering, until Jay was allowed through.
Jay stood motionless when he reached her, and Violet moved first, stepping toward him, closing the gap between them, and laying her hand over the thin fabric of his worn Led Zeppelin T-shirt. She needed to feel him. He reacted then, gently cupping Violet’s chin as he inspected the damage to her face. His fingers traced her injuries, his frown deepening. “Are you okay?” His eyes traveling the length of her as his hands moved down her arms and then up again, settling gently on each side of her face, pinning her so he could inspect her more closely.