Wild Fire (Chaos #6.5)(29)

“That’s pretty freakin’ thorough grooming before heading out to have your rape kit done,” Dutch noted sarcastically.

“It’s not unheard of that happens,” Eddie noted. “Victims of violent crimes are rarely in an emotional state to think straight.”

“But wasn’t she warned not to do that?” Dutch asked.

“She was,” Eddie answered.

Before Dutch could respond, Georgie spoke.

“By process of elimination, since three people were there, one’s missing, one’s dead, and she’s the last, she’s the only one reporting there was an attempted rape.”

“Yeah,” Hank affirmed.

“And there were officers at the scene, was she not offered an escort to the hospital?” Georgie went on.

“She wasn’t only offered that, it was pressed, but she was adamant that she would make her way there herself,” Hank told her.

“And they let her, in her home, which was the scene of a crime that resulted in a death, wash up and then go to the hospital?” Georgie sounded shocked.

“She did not wash up or change clothes at home. She found somewhere along the way from home to the hospital to do it,” Hank shared.

“So the woman went out of her way to clean up,” Dutch asked, also shocked, and pissed.

“Yeah,” Hank said.

“It unheard of that happens?” Dutch put to Eddie.

Eddie grunted unhappily.

Fishy was damned right.

“You have got to be kidding,” Georgie snapped, beyond disbelieving, or irate.

She was furious.

There was a lot of emotion behind that, some deserved, but this was past that, and Dutch wanted to know about it.

“Where’s that come from, darlin’?” he asked.

“She said she was being raped,” she replied.

He drew out his, “Yeah.”

“And from what we’ve heard, there is a distinct possibility that’s not the case.”

“Yeah,” he repeated.

“I’m sure this is arguable, but in my estimation, the worst kind of woman is the woman who makes a false allegation of rape, or attempted rape. Every one who does makes the ones who actually endure that nightmare have to travel a road that already is going to be arduous, one that’s so horrendous, the majority of victims refuse to even take that path.”

Dutch felt the truth of that in the back of his throat and swung his eyes to Eddie and Hank.

“She’s right,” Hank said low.

“So that’s why no DNA was found,” Georgie rapped out.

“Yup,” Eddie said.

“She’s lying. Covering for the murderer,” Georgie spat. “She knows him.”

“Yup,” Hank said.

“The fuck?” Dutch murmured angrily.

“Where is this woman?” Georgie demanded.

All of the men looked to her, but it was only Dutch who reached out and wrapped his fingers around her wrist.

Sparks had flown from her last night because she was pissed as shit at him.

It was not lost on a single man at that table she was about to explode, and she wanted to aim the grenade that was her at Carlyle’s neighbor.

“Take a breath,” he urged.

“Carlyle’s dad went over in the midst of a lovers’ spat or a conspirators’ fight or a bad guy argument because he thought a woman was being harmed and he was the kind of man who would do something to put a stop to that and he got dead because of it and this bitch is not talking?”

He leaned her way. “Baby, take a breath.”

“How can the worst situation in the world get even worse?” she demanded to know.

“We don’t know her story, Georgie.”

“I’m thinking I do, Dutch. She’s covering her and/or this guy’s ass and Carlyle’s dad is dead. Benefit of the doubt, she was in a bad situation. Carlyle’s father still charged in, in order to save her from it and the thanks he gets is her letting his murderer go free.”

“Get a lock on it, darlin’,” he ordered gently.

“No,” she snapped.

“Georgiana, you losing your mind on this woman is not gonna help Carlyle.”

She caught his eyes and stared into them, deep and for a long time.

Then she took in a shuddering breath, tore her hand free and raised it toward a passing waitress.

“Margarita, double shot of tequila,” she ordered.

The waitress nodded.

Georgie then dipped a chip, ate it angrily, and talked while munching, muttering, “Fucking bitch. Fucking fuck her.”

“I see you’re over your no-cursing-around-people-you-don’t-know gig,” he noted.

This time, she punched him in the arm.

He caught her around the back of her neck, pulled her to him, and kissed her hard. No tongue, unfortunately. She still tasted good.

When he let her go, she declared, “You’re a good kisser, Dutch, seriously, but your kisses don’t wring miracles.”

“I’ll have to work on that,” he replied.

“Whatever,” she mumbled.

“Luke has got to meet this one,” Eddie said.

“Tex,” Hank said. “Tex is gonna adopt her.”