Delayed Penalty (Crossing the Line, #1)(7)

It was hard to avoid when my face was plastered all over the city, but it also felt good.

Unfortunately, for me, none of that mattered because a feeling of dread had settled over me. My mind kept going back to when those doors closed and the feeling that took residence in the pit of my stomach. Even though she was stable, I still felt uneasy. I felt like at any moment they were going to come back out here and tell me she was gone.

I went from celebrating a victory to pacing the waiting room in a matter of twelve hours.

I walked back over to the nurse, got the room number, and then headed over to Northwestern Hospital.

I called my parents after that and told them some bullshit about the snow and an early morning practice the day after Christmas. I knew they didn't believe me, but they also didn't push. I got a few text messages from Caitlin telling me I was an * for not coming but then another one telling me she loved me. Knowing they would understand, I wanted to tell them but decided against it. This was unbelievable. I was waiting around at a hospital for a girl I didn't know, just to make sure she was going to be okay.

But then what?

Would I talk to her?

I had my answer when a nurse from Northwestern said I could see her if I wanted to.

When they let me in, I didn't know what to say. I found myself sitting there staring at her, and then before long, I began talking to her. Just talking.

She was covered in a thick white blanket from the neck down. Her left arm rested over it, and the right was tucked inside. Her head was bandaged, and the skin under her eyes had turned black and purple. She was swollen to the point that her face didn't look normal. It looked like whoever did this to her had punched her more than once. Red, raised patches of skin, cuts and scratches were scattered everywhere as was red raised patches.

She looked awful.

I wanted to hold her again like I did in the cab. For some reason I reached out and touched her hand. Her skin was cool to the touch, battered and fragile. It felt like there wasn't any life left in her, but something happened when I touched her hand. A sense of pride surged through me, knowing that I got her here and gave her the chance to fight for her life.

The doctor had gone over the list of her injuries with me when I arrived. They confirmed she was only seventeen, and she had, in fact, been raped. She had a fractured skull, a broken hand from fighting the guy off, and internal bleeding. Most of which was under control, but she wasn't out of the woods yet. Like he'd said, there was a long recovery ahead of her. It literally looked like she had been attacked by an animal. Looking at her now, the numbness started to fade, and I was pissed. How could someone do this to someone else?

A sense of helplessness took over as I watched the machine keep her alive. I thought about my parents and how angry they probably were that I wasn't home, but I couldn't think of anywhere else I wanted to be besides right there with this girl. It was strange for me, being drawn to a stranger. I found myself watching her again, the machines and her breathing. I looked at her bruises and wondered how she ended up that way. I also found myself wondering what she was like. Who was she as a person before this?

Maybe that was what made me stay.

What drew me to her so much? Why her?

The doctors didn't leave me alone in there; they were busy performing tests, checking vitals, making notes. You name it, they were in there doing it. Some of the tests really pissed me off. They seemed personal and something they shouldn't have been doing to her without her knowledge. Pregnancy tests, STIs, you name it, they tested for it. Thankfully, all tests came back negative, and she hadn't contracted anything. It still didn't make it any easier to witness.

When something happens to you, good or bad, the sudden impact of the situation isn't the most damaging. Your body and mind continues to go over the trauma of what happened over and over again until it stops.

The problem was it wouldn't stop for me. My mind was constantly turning, constantly replaying the images and the scenario in my head as I looked at her lying in that hospital bed. It was an endless loop. Just when I thought it would stop, my mind pushed play again.

Then I thought about what must have happened to her family and how she got like this, and it was just a mess of thoughts, really. I was glad when the doctors finally kicked me out because I needed to clear my head.

While I stood there giving the nurse my contact information, completely unapproachable with my shoulders tense and my teeth grinding in frustration, a cop managed to find me. My mind was still in that room, still questioning everything I had seen, and still reliving that moment when I walked down that alley.

"Let's talk," he said with a nod to a private room near the door.

I knew this was coming. You couldn't bring a girl into the hospital who had been left for dead and not be questioned.

He was tall, probably close to six-foot-two, and completely bald, though it was clear it was by choice and not genetics. His head was shiny, almost like he'd rubbed some kind of oil over it. Maybe he had. I didn't trust him already.

He was also younger than any detective I'd ever seen and dressed casually in jeans and a polo shirt. Shouldn't they be wearing suits?

"Evan Masen? I'm detective Paulsen." He spoke in a low voice, the tone catching me off guard, never offering me a hand shake or anything, all business. "Can I speak to you in private?"

"Yeah, sure."

He had just shut the door when he looked up at me and went for it. "What were you doing in an alley?" he demanded, more accusing than questioning.