by Lisa Bilbrey
“Especially for one, small human.” Derek took a sip of his coffee as the phone rang. Sighing, he reached over onto the nightstand and picked it up. “Hello … Oh, hey, Samuel … What!” he exploded, scooting to the side of the bed and dragging his hand through his hair. “Okay … Yeah, I will. See you in a bit.”
Derek sighed once more as he ended the call, tossing the phone onto the bottom of the bed as he turned and looked at Elle. “Um, that was Samuel. He needs us to come over. Said … said it was important.”
“Why? What happened?” Elle asked, the look on his face had her nervous.
Derek closed his eyes and shook his head. “All he said was that Trixie has been arrested inside their house.”
“What?” Callum scrambled out of bed. “Are they okay?”
“They’re fine, just said they needed us there ASAP.” Derek walked around to where Callum stood. “I promise they’re all right. Just rattled.”
Callum nodded. “Okay.”
Derek turned to Elle, who’d been unable to keep the tears from falling down her face. Finally, after months of expecting her to pop out of the shadows, to come after her again, she was now in police custody. She felt relieved, yet there were so many questions begging to be asked.
“Honey,” Derek said, kneeling next to the bed and reaching out to grab her hand. Elle shifted her tear-filled eyes to him. “Oh, honey.”
“I don’t know how to process this,” she whispered. “She’s been arrested?”
Derek nodded slowly. “She can’t hurt you again. Not ever.”
“I know,” she cried, but Elle didn’t feel safe yet, though she couldn’t explain why. “We’d better hurry.”
“Okay, beautiful.” Derek helped her out of bed, sliding his arm around her waist and leaning in to kiss her. “I love you.”
“I love you, too,” she whimpered through her tears.
A half hour later, Callum pulled her car up into the driveway of Samuel and Lydia’s house. They’d showered and dressed, none of them in a hurry to face the woman who’d tried to ruin their life, yet the urgency was noted. A black and white police car was parked out front, along with an ambulance and an older model sedan. Elle felt her body tense as the four of them headed inside.
Samuel and Lydia were seated on the larger of their two sofas. A paramedic was kneeling next to Samuel, tending to a cut on his forearm. Two uniform police officers were standing in front of the large picture window that overlooked the front yard, next to the two detectives who had been handling the case against Trixie.
“Ms. Reid,” the taller of the two detectives said, holding his hand out toward her as he walked in her direction.
Martin Hamilton was the senior detective assigned to her case. He had sparse gray hair that he kept longer on one side so he could comb it over to cover the top of his head. His partner, Christopher Allen, was an solid two decades younger than him. He had dark black hair that he kept cut short and dark black eyes.
They’d spent hours questioning her after she woke up in the hospital, trying to pull every last detail of Trixie’s attempt on her life out of her. The more she recounted her story, the harder it became to deal. Plus, they hadn’t made their disgust with her relationship with Callum, Derek, and Sadie a secret, either.
“Actually, it’s Davis now,” Elle said, refusing to take his hand. “Is it true? You’ve arrested Trixie Maxwell?”
He nodded softly. “She’s in custody.”
Elle blew out a heavy breath and looked at Samuel, her eyes drifting to the three inch gash in his arm. “She cut you?”
“I’m fine,” he insisted.
“That’s not what I asked!” Elle snarled, tightening her grip on her cane and walking over to him. Lydia slid over so she could sit next to her father-in-law. “She cut you.”
Samuel nodded. “We’d gone out for breakfast, and when we got back, the front door was open. I told Lydia to stay outside and call the police while I went inside.”
“You stupid fool,” Lydia cried.
“What were you thinking?” Elle exclaimed. “Were you trying to get yourself killed?”
“No, of course not!” he insisted. “But I couldn’t just stay on the porch. I found Trixie inside our bedroom. She was … she was on the bed, touching herself.”
“Ew,” Callum groused as he, Derek, and Sadie sat on the other sofa.
“Tell me about it,” Samuel scoffed, shifting so that he was facing Elle. “Sweetheart, she, um, she’s dyed her hair dark, like … like yours.”
“Like mine?” Elle whispered.
“Yeah, and, uh, I think she was wearing your clothes.”
“W … What?” she stammered, her chest heaving as she struggled to keep her breathing calm and even. “What do you mean my clothes?”
“I don’t know how she got them, but you remember the outfit you wore the day you presented your plans for Alvarez Park?” he asked.
Elle bit her lip, thinking back to the day she and Sadie had met Samuel Davis. It’d been a year — a long year, that hadn’t been the easiest on them. “Um, vaguely. I remember wearing one of my black skirts, but I can’t remember what blouse I wore.”
“It was your blue silk blouse,” Sadie said, her cheeks warming. “You looked hot in it. Hugged your —”
“Sadie,” Elle hissed, shifting her eyes to the detectives before looking back at Samuel. “She was wearing my clothes?”
“Or clothes that looked like yours,” he said. “When I found her on the bed, she smiled and said she’d been waiting for me. I told her to leave, called her by her name, and she … Well, Trixie went nuts and started screaming at me, saying she was you.”
Elle felt her eyes widen. “Me?”
He nodded. “She came at me, swinging a knife around. I tried to grab her arm, but she cut me before I could pin her to the ground. The police showed up not long after and they hauled her off.”
“Oh, wow,” Elle murmured, placing her elbows on her knees and burying her face in her hands.
She’d known Trixie was unbalanced and dangerous, but obsessed to the point that she tried to transform herself into being Elle? And trying to seduce Samuel? What was that about? Did she think Elle had a sexual relationship with him?
“Elle, honey,” Derek said, pulling her attention to him, Callum, and Sadie. “You’re kind of scaring us.”
“I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I just …” Elle shook her head and looked back at the paramedic, who’d been silently stitching Samuel’s arm. “Is he okay?”
“The cut was fairly shallow. Ten stitches or so and he should be okay. As long as he doesn’t do anything stupid, like approach someone wielding a knife,” he said, casually.
“Not like I do that every day!” Samuel exclaimed, waving his free arm in the air.
“She tried to kill you,” Elle whimpered, and before anyone could argue with her, she turned her attention to the detectives. “So what happens to her now?”
Detective Allen cleared his throat, taking a step toward them. “She’ll be arraigned before a judge tonight, or maybe tomorrow. That’s when they’ll determine if she can be released on bail.”
“And if she is released?” Elle asked, unable to keep her voice from wavering.
Detective Hamilton hesitated. “In theory, you and Mr. Davis would be given an order of protection, meaning she wouldn’t be allowed within a particular distance to you. Standard is a hundred yards, but considering that she’d attacked you each violently, if she makes bail, I would imagine the judge will hold her under house arrest. That means she’d be given an electronic ankle monitor that would prevent her from leaving her house at all.”
“Is it likely that the judge will even set bail for her?” Sadie asked, her hands protectively cradling her belly.
“Depends on the judge she gets, to be honest. This is her second violent attack in a matter of months, so I would think any judge would see that she’s a danger to the public, but there are some judges that have a softer outlook th
an others.”
Detective Allen stated the facts like he was rattling off his grocery list. He was so blunt about the woman who’d put two bullets into Elle and attempted to slice a chunk of skin out of Samuel.
Feeling overwhelmed, Elle gripped her cane and stood up. “I can’t … I can’t be here. I’m sorry.”
As she hobbled toward the door, Detective Hamilton reached out to grab her arm, causing her to scream, “Don’t fucking touch me!”
“I’m sorry,” he said, putting his hands up.
“Sorry?” she scoffed. “You’re sorry? Well, ain’t that just grand. She shot me twice and left me to bleed to death on the floor of my office, and you’re standing there talking about bail and electronic monitors!”
“It’s unlikely that she will actually be released, but I’m not going to stand here and lie to you, either, Mrs. Davis.”
“No, you’re too busy judging me to lie,” Elle groused, looking back at Samuel and Lydia. “I’m sorry she came after you. I really am.”
Then, she turned and walked out of the house, leaving them sitting on the sofas. Her heart ached, her head throbbed, and anger consumed her.
Fourteen
Elle took a deep breath as she climbed out of her car and turned her attention to the building in front of her. Nerves had caused her to turn around a dozen times and go home, back to the lovers who had done everything they could to ease the anger that filled her. They had touched her, made love to her, whispered sweet words of comfort into her ear, but it hadn’t helped. Her anger was as strong as ever, and the only way she’d be able to get rid of it was to face the woman who’d made an attempted on her life. Yet, she hadn’t gotten the courage to actually go inside.
Her cell phone rang, startling her. She dug it out of her back pocket, frowning when she saw Sadie’s number flashing across the screen. She hadn’t told them when she left or where she was going, just left a note that she’d be back later. They wouldn’t understand why she needed to do this. Hell, Elle didn’t understand.
“Stop being a coward and just go inside already,” Elle muttered to herself. Her legs felt like Jell-O as she pushed off the side of the car and headed inside.
There were two metal detectors perched about fifteen feet inside the door. Two police officers stood at each one: the first responsible for running all purses, bags, and personal belongings through the X-ray machine, while the other monitored those going through the detector. Elle tightened her grip on her cane as she approached the edge of the conveyor belt.
“Um, I don’t know what I’m supposed to do,” she told the officer running the X-ray machine.
He smiled. “Just place your cane, cell phone, and keys on the belt. Once they’re cleared, we can hand you the cane back and you can go through the detectors,” he explained.
Elle bit the inside of her bottom lip as she braced herself against the side of the conveyor belt and dropped her keys and phone into one of the plastic tubs, and then laid her cane on the belt.
“She’s clear,” the officer said, before handing her the cane back. “Here you go, ma’am.”
“Thank you,” she murmured. She gripped it tight as she hobbled through the machine, waiting for the alarm to blare, but it didn’t. The other officer smiled as he gave her keys and phone back. “Can you tell me where to go if I want to see one of the prisoners?”
“Straight down the hall, take a left. It’s the first door on the right,” he said.
“Thanks.”
Elle followed his directions and soon found herself standing on the other side of the counter across from dozens of police officers.
“Can I help ya?” one of the women cops asked, slamming a file onto the counter and smacking her gum. Her name tag had S. Dawson engraved in it.
“Um, yeah, I … I’d like to see one of the … one of the prisoners,” Elle stammered.
“Name?” she asked, huffing as she turned toward the computer sitting catty-corner on the dark blue counter.
“Mine or hers?” Elle asked.
Dawson paused and looked back at her. “Well, you’re not in my system as a jailed, are you?”
“No,” Elle murmured, feeling stupid. “Trixie Maxwell.”
She turned back to the computer. Her fingers flying across the keyboard for a couple minutes before she paused and looked at Elle. “Your name?”
“Elle Davis.”
Dawson’s eyes widened. “Davis? Not Reid?”
“I just got married, so it’s Davis now,” she explained.
“Why do you want to see her?”
“Why does it matter?”
“Seeing as she’s being held on a charge of attempting to murder you, it seems a bit odd that you’d want to sit down with her,” Dawson explained. “So, again, why do you want to see her?”
Elle sighed. “Are you saying I can’t see her?”
“No,” she said. “But I need to know that you aren’t going to attack her.”
Elle pressed her lips together. “There are questions that only she has the answers to. I need those answers.”
“Hmm,” Dawson hummed. “Give me a minute.”
Elle stood at the counter for several minutes before sitting on one of the plastic chairs against the far wall. Dawson flittered back and forth, never once speaking to Elle again. Her irritation grew with each passing minute, and it didn’t help that her phone kept ringing, either. Sadie, Callum, Derek, even Samuel called over and over, and every time, she let the call go to her voice mail. She owed them an explanation, this she knew, but explaining where she was and why she was there wouldn’t be easy.
After almost an hour, Elle had enough waiting and hobbled back up to the counter, slamming her hand down on top. “I want to see her now!”
Dawson looked around the room before walking over to her. “Ma’am, I can’t let you see her until the district attorney arrives.”
“Why?” Elle asked.
“Because it could compromise their case against her,” Dawson explained as the door behind Elle opened, drawing both their attention to the dark-haired woman who walked in. “Ms. Alvarado, this is Elle Reid. Um, I mean Davis. She’d like to speak to Trixie Maxwell.”
Ms. Alvarado shifted her dark eyes to Elle, letting them drift down the length of her body before speaking. “Not quite yet. Is there somewhere more private we can speak?”
“Yes, ma’am,” Dawson said, rushing around the counter and opening the large, wooden door that lead to the back.
“Mrs. Davis,” Ms. Alvarado said, gesturing for Elle to lead the way.
Dawson lead them into a small, interrogation room with bars on the window and a two-way window, the kind Elle had seen in every cop show she’d ever watched. Settling at the table, Elle leaned her cane against the side and stretched out her legs, trying to ease the pain.
“Would you like some coffee? Some water? Maybe a soda?” Ms. Alvarado asked, lifting an eyebrow.
“No, thank you,” Elle replied.
Ms. Alvarado nodded and settled at the table across from her, folding her hands together and dropping them in her lap. Once Dawson had closed the door, leaving the two women alone, she smiled. “I’m surprised to see you here, Mrs… Davis, is it?”
Elle nodded. “And why is that?”
“Well, most people who are violently attacked don’t come to the police station and ask to visit the person who hurt them. This is a first in my ten year career.”
“Oh.”
Ms. Alvarado leaned forward, placing her elbows on the table. “Why are you here, Mrs. Davis?”
Elle sighed. “Because I’m tired of being afraid.”
“And you think seeing her will help? Trixie Maxwell is a dangerous woman.”
“Oh, trust me, I know,” Elle groused. “I have the scars and pain to prove it, but what I don’t have are answers, and I need them in order to move on.” Pausing, she shifted in her seat. “Ms. Alvarado —”
“Sonia. Call me Sonia,” she interrupted. “And I understand why
you want to speak with her, Mrs. Davis, but —”
“My name is Elle, and she came after me because the men she wanted fell in love with me. But I don’t understand why she targeted me, why I was the whore in the situation. She’s taken so much from me. Months of my life that I will never get back, moments that I missed because of her.” Elle placed her palms on the table. “All I’m asking for is five minutes.”
Sonia shook her head. “Nothing she says can be used against her. You understand that, right? She could confess to murder and I won’t be able to prosecute her for it.”
“I understand.”
Sonia stood up and stretched her hand toward Elle. “I need your cane. Can’t leave you alone with her if you have a weapon.” And when Elle hesitated, she added, “I’ll instruct the guards to keep her handcuffed. You’ll be safe.”
A small bit of relief filled Elle as she handed her cane over, though only a small bit. Trixie had proven twice now just how crazy she was. Elle found herself nervously tapping her nails on the table as she was left alone inside the small, dark room.
Ten minutes later, the door to the room opened once more and Elle watched as a shackled Trixie shuffled into the room in a bright orange jumpsuit. Just as Samuel said, her normally blond hair had been dyed a horrid dark brown. Her once pristine appearance had faded even more over the last seven months. She looked sick and gaunt.
“It’s you,” Trixie murmured, an evil smile twisting the corners of her lips upward. The guards dragged her to the table and attached her hands to a bar under the table.
“Yell when you’re ready,” one of the guards said before shifting his eyes to Trixie and then motioning for his partner to follow him.
Once the door was closed, Elle turned her attention back to Trixie. “You look like shit.”
“So do you,” Trixie countered, smirking. “Have to admit that I wasn’t expecting you when they told me I had a visitor.”
“Who were you expecting?” Elle asked.
“Nobody,” she said, her tone eerie. “Just not a whore like you. Surprised you can tear yourself off a dick long enough to come here. Or is it pussy you like the most? I get so confused on if you’re a dyke or just a slut.”