Bitter Angel

by Megan Hand

  Detective Howard asks us the same few questions the officer at the front did and leads us to somewhere we can talk, which turns out to be a small white room with just a table in the middle and a few chairs surrounding it.

  This is similar to what I think I’ve seen on Law & Order. Aren’t their interrogation tanks more…up-to-date? I don’t know. I’m just thankful that, so far, he’s herding us in here as a group. I don’t see any windows where other cops can peep in and listen to our conversation, so at least he doesn’t consider us suspects. When he shuts the door though, I begin biting my nails again.

  Jay places a comforting hand on my thigh. “You got this,” he whispers. “And I’m right here.”

  Detective Howard takes out a large notepad with a special cop header on it, and he clicks his pen. He doesn’t pull out a recording device, but when I scan the room, I see a camera in the upper-right corner hitched into the ceiling, scrutinizing us with its one beady eye.

  It’s hot in here. I tug at my collar again.

  Trigger starts. “We have information about a crime that might happen tonight.”

  Detective Howard raises an eyebrow. “Might happen?”

  “Will happen.” My voice rings loud and clear. Amazingly, it doesn’t sound nervous. “It will happen, and actually we have information about when this already happened. Before. Another time. Last week.” Damn. I sound flighty and unorganized.

  We had this down less than a minute ago!

  “And this is about a rape?” he asks to confirm the info he must’ve received from the female officer earlier.

  I flick an anxious glance at Trigger and blurt out, “Me.”

  Trigger’s eyes go wide. Crap. This wasn’t the plan, but I can’t do it. I can’t lie. I have to tell the truth to the best of my knowledge. It’s the only way I can come off believable. Even though I wasn’t really raped, I can only tell my own story. I’ll mention Heather and Nilah, but no way am I involving them in any of this.

  The detective leans forward in his seat, gaze focused on me. “You were the victim?”

  I gulp. “Yes.”

  “Did you report this after the crime took place?”

  I shake my head, cursing this blasted situation. Then I’m reminded quickly of Nilah and Heather’s healthy faces this morning, alive, untouched, and I’m grateful.

  “Miss Spencer, if we don’t have DNA evidence, our chances of catching the perpetrator diminish drastically.”

  He’s being realistic. I get it. I don’t care.

  “Yes I understand, but we have information that these guys are going to strike again. Tonight.” Strike again? Am I Batman?

  Trigger talks, explaining how these men approached him, what they expected of him, and how they threatened him if he didn’t cooperate. He gives their names, except Alpha’s, of course. He’s very forthcoming.

  “Did you make any drugs for these men?” the officer asks.

  “No,” Trigger lies. “That’s why I’m here now.”

  I know he’s already made them. He admitted that in the car, but he’s counting on this to be his saving grace, his reason for not showing tonight.

  When it’s my turn, I explain how I drank too much and how these guys were with my friends and me. I describe how they drugged our drinks, drugged me, stripped me, and held me hostage. I don’t mention that it was Trigger that set me free, and I don’t discuss the uninjured cheek and ankle. Everything else, I tell. I’m actually feeling rather proud of myself for getting it out.

  Then I realize that Jay has removed his hand from my thigh. I see him holding his fists, white-knuckled, under the table. He keeps his face smooth, but I worry about the tornado brewing inside of him.

  The officer’s pen is flying, and he’s shaking his head at random intervals. “And your friends?” he asks me.

  Did I mention them? Shit. I did. But you were going to, remember? Right. Just stay calm. “I…uh…they wouldn’t talk. It’s just me.”

  The seat creaks as he leans back again. “So this is gang-related?”

  Trigger looks at me for approval and says, “Not gang-related, but something along those lines, yes.” We don’t know what else to call it.

  “And you think or you know this will occur again tonight?”

  We’re both nervous. I say it. “Um, we know.” It’s supposed to sound strong, but it comes off as tentative.

  Detective Howard sighs from all the information we’ve given him. He seems overwhelmed. He can only imagine. “Alright. We’ll check out these names. For the other person, do you think you could give a description to a sketch artist?”

  “Actually, I have pictures,” Trigger offers.

  “Pictures?”

  “Yes, they’re on my phone.”

  Trigger pulls up the pictures and hands his phone to Detective Howard, naming each guy off as he goes.

  The Detective frowns at the blurry ones. I’m super relieved that we have their names. His expression shifts when he sees Alpha’s picture. His eyes narrow at us. “You’re positive this is one of the assailants or members of this group?”

  “Of course it is,” Trigger argues.

  Detective Howard places both palms on the table, now looking intimidating and authoritative. “Do you know the consequences for wrongly accusing someone? I want you both to think about this.”

  Jay sits forward. “Why? What is it?”

  Detective Howard rubs his eyes with his hand and lets out a huge frustrated sigh. He holds the picture of Alpha in front of us. “This is Hunter Prescott.”

  Hunter? Is this guy shitting me? I almost laugh. It’s so ridiculously appropriate. But I’m too tired and desperate, so I shrug instead. “So? Who is that?”

  Trigger and Jay are as confused as I am.

  “John Prescott’s son,” the detective says.

  “Who the hell is John Prescott?” I feel this giant tension bubble building in the room. Something is coming, and I’m not going to like it.

  “He’s a Tennessee senator.”

  The tension bubble bursts.

  Holy. Mother. I don’t even have an appropriate curse word. All the fight drains out of me along with any confidence I worked up in the last few minutes. My heart is palpitating, and my stomach is in my throat. I don’t think I’ll vomit, but I back away from Trigger and Jay to be safe.

  Trigger’s face is ashen. Jay is…I don’t know. I can’t read him. Again.

  A senator’s son. My lack of political knowledge is really biting me in the ass right about now. I can’t believe this. My instincts were way off their peak. We aren’t in over our heads.

  We’re drowning.

  “How do you two know each other?” Detective Howard asks, meaning me and Trigger.

  Jay, Trigger, and I have been sitting here with our mouths hanging open for several seconds. None of us were prepared for anything close to what we’ve just been told. I’m having a hard time processing it.

  When he asks the question, we gather ourselves and pluck out our carefully premeditated response since we had planned for this, too. “After I escaped, I stuck around and followed the guys for a couple of days. I found out they were trying to recruit him. I saw them threaten him, so I figured he was safe.”

  Trigger fills in the rest of the details. “She approached me and asked for help.”

  Our story is believable, but it sounds too rehearsed and mechanical.

  Detective Howard frowns. I think he noticed. “How exactly do you know their activity? That this will happen tonight?”

  I splay my hands on the table. “We just told you. We started following them and got the information. Plus, they’re trying to get Tri…er, him…” I jab a thumb in Trigger’s direction. “To do their…uh, drug stuff. Yeah, so, anyway, he knows when ‘cause they told him.” I barely stop the duh that almost follows that awfully executed explanation.

  Detective Howard shakes his head. “I gotta tell ya, you are very brave for having gone through what you have to come in here and give us all
of this. And you followed these bastards? Very brave indeed.”

  I wonder if bastards is typical cop-speak. I can’t tell if he’s buying all of this or if he’s trying to make us think he’s buying it. I have a feeling we lost a lot of brownie points when he realized we were accusing a Tennessee senator’s son of illegal activity and rape.

  I nod weakly. My eyes are round weary pits in my skull. My hands drop to my legs, and I begin scratching. “Are you saying you don’t believe us?” Please don’t say it. Please don’t.

  “Of course I’m not saying that,” he answers with slightly more professionalism. “But this is going to be a tricky situation. You say you have the location of where this might take place?”

  I don’t miss the might in his sentence, but I’m not giving up. “Yes. It’s an apartment building on Harrison Road. I don’t know the intersecting street, but I know it’s at least ten floors up. Obviously, I was too busy trying to escape to get a room number or anything.” Anxiety works its way into my voice.

  Detective Howard writes in a frenzy. “Well miss, I can tell you right now, we will do what we can, but these things take time. Search warrants. We need to question the men.”

  I’m confused. “Can’t you find them and follow them?”

  He sighs. “We can run background checks on the names, approach them in their homes, and question them, but without further proof, that’s it. I could add that area to one of my surveillance car’s rounds tonight, but I can’t guarantee anything. If we don’t spot illegal activity, we can’t bring these men in.”

  “But can’t you, like, stake them out?”

  He shakes his head with a small patronizing smile on his face. “Ms. Spencer, this isn’t prime time TV. We don’t do a stakeout until we know we’ve got a legit lead of illegal activity. It’s not in our budget.”

  Prime time TV? Budget?

  I know I freaked earlier and was really wired in the waiting room, but I’m back on my game. My passion is running full throttle. “And we’re not legit enough for you? You can’t just sit around here while these assholes are running around the city unrestricted. Do something! It’s your job!”

  He shakes his head sadly, patronizing smile gone. “I’m not trying to belittle what you’ve been through, and I’m very sorry, but we can’t just arrest a senator’s son. We’ll file the report you’ve given us today. We do need you to be examined by a doctor, and we’ll do everything we can on our end. I’ll check with my superiors, but we’re overloaded as it is. I gotta be honest. There have been no other situations reported lately that resemble yours. If these men have been—”

  I jump to my feet. “This just happened to me last night! I escaped, and my friend almost died! They’re going to do it again tonight. Please. Tell me there’s something you can do!” Oh my God, I’ve lost it.

  Jay is next to me, trying to restrain my flailing arms. “Lila. Quit.”

  Detective Howard is perusing his notes. “This was last night? Why did you say it was last Friday?”

  Oh shit. I just messed up our entire testimony. “I…that’s what I said.” Lame.

  He leans forward, rubbing a finger alongside his pen. “Look Ms. Spencer, you’ve been through a trauma, but I need all the details to the best of your knowledge. If any of these men you’re accusing are not the perpetrators, this can still mean big consequences for them. As I said earlier, I want you to think hard about this.” He pauses, deliberates. “What is your friend’s name? If she’s been assaulted, the hospital would’ve already sent officers out to get her statement. If there’s a recorded assault, we could get physical evidence, which would help your case.”

  The detective is trying to help us. He’s back on our side, and I’ve got nothing to give him. Goddamn it, I knew this would happen! I knew it.

  “Oh man, oh man, oh man,” I say aloud, my hands in my hair. I’d pace if I had the space for it. As it is, I have about a foot of perimeter around me. All I can do is shuffle awkwardly. “You don’t understand. Someone is going to get hurt tonight if you don’t help us.” I’m rambling again.

  Getting the police involved was the plan—our only plan. Now what? What if they really don’t do anything?

  I’m suddenly feeling our one shot flying away from us, shattering glass as it goes through an invisible window called Nice Try and sails into the land of You’re Sunk.

  Trigger clears his throat. “There’s no recorded assault.”

  Jay subdues me, clenching his arms around mine. I don’t like it. It’s too similar to being tied up. Still, I let him. I trust him.

  “Isn’t there anything you can do?” Jay asks, desperate.

  Detective Howard is eyeing us all. “Okay, folks.” He stands. “I’ll be right back.” Then he walks out with his notepad.

  Uh-oh. “Guys, this isn’t good. We’re gonna get arrested. I can feel it. We have to get outta here.” I’m only half-aware that I sound insane.

  “Lila, you need to sit,” Jay says.

  Trigger is staring me down accusingly. “You had to go and mess it up, didn’t you? You had to freak out right in front of him.”

  I hear him, but I don’t listen. There is a difference. Jay and I used to fight about it all the time in high school. I maneuver around the table, bringing Jay with me.

  “We gotta get out of here. Let’s just go. He doesn’t believe us. He’s not going to help us.”

  Trigger looks murderous, but he doesn’t try to stop me as I open the door. The hall that led us here is empty. We trail out, single file, and a nasty feeling is creeping up my spine, like I’m escaping from prison or something. Even though I’m technically doing nothing wrong, I’m in a crazy hurry to get out of here. Who knows who or what that detective will bring back with him? Our story got so messed up that I wouldn’t believe us. I’m sure he no longer does.

  When we come out to where the main room opens up with all the desks and the glass room where we waited, I see Detective Howard deep in discussion with four other officers. There’s no way we can sneak out unseen. What on earth do we say?

  Jay gets in front of me. “Detective?”

  Detective Howard looks up. When he sees the three of us standing there, he and the group of other officers move toward us. He folds his arms over his burly cop chest. I can see he’s not happy that we left the room.

  “I’d like to get some more information before you leave. If what you’re saying is true, then we need to investigate this further.”

  “Yes, well,” Jay says. “We need to get going. Lila hasn’t eaten all day, and her blood sugar tends to go out of whack. Maybe we can come back after she’s eaten. Could we get your contact information, just in case?”

  That’s brief and to the point. Detective Howard hesitates, and I start to feel sweaty all over again. When you really think about it though, we’ve done nothing wrong. They can’t hold us here. Right?

  Detective Howard is rubbing his chin and gazing at me in a new light, like maybe I’m not crazy. Just hungry? Maybe? “Of course.” He whips a business card out of his wallet. “Contact me anytime today or otherwise at the bottom number. I assure you that we will look into this situation today. We’ll do what we can.” He says to Jay, “And get this girl to a hospital. She needs to be seen, and we need all the extra evidence we can get. That’s more critical than coming back here. We only want to help you.”

  I’m so relieved that we’re not being arrested. I chime in. “Yes, sir. Thank you, sir.”

  Jay pockets the card and guides me out with Trigger at our heels. No one says a word until we’re back in the car. Jay asks me where we should go for food. I can’t concentrate, and Trigger is seething.

  While I’m sweetly relieved that none of us are getting arrested, I’m heartbroken that no one else is either. I should’ve known something like this would take time.

  “We should’ve stayed,” Trigger fumes.

  I argue back, “We have nothing else to give him.”

  “Doesn’t matter,” he snaps. “W
e were safe there. I was safe there. He believed me, and now…”

  I don’t even try to choke back the tears gathering in my eyes, clogging my sinuses. “I’m sorry, guys. I let you down. I let everyone down.”

  Wow, I really need to eat. Or I need an adrenaline reboot. Or maybe some sleep because I haven’t really had any of that either. Or did I? This is too confusing.

  Jay starts driving. Five minutes later, we arrive at the nearest McDonald’s. Gross.

  He sees my grimace. “It was either this or KFC across the street, and I know how much you hate that place.”

  I’ve never been a Mickey D’s fan, but I hate KFC. I’m not too keen on chicken in general right now for obvious reasons. He orders from the drive-thru and parks.

  Jay chows down his meal. Trigger decides he’s not hungry, and I pick through a squished cheeseburger. Despite the fact that I’m starving, I’m still crying—silently, so no one can hear me even though they can see me. It’s hard to eat when my throat has a giant lump in it.

  I can’t believe I did that. I messed it up. Me. Even if I hadn’t, it didn’t seem like there was much the detective or the police could’ve done today. I think that’s what was really at the heart of my panic attack before we were interviewed.

  I feel so lost now. I have no idea what we’re going to do. It’s like the entire universe is against me, mocking me for even thinking everyone would believe me. For thinking I could do something about this.

  After I choke down a few bites, I turn in my seat and look at Trigger. “What now?”

  He unleashes on me. “What do you mean? I go with them! I have no other choice!”

  Jay dishes it back. “Do not speak to her that way. I assure you that I will break your jaw.”

  “Whatever.” Trigger sags, his face a big wrinkle of anger, hurt, and fear. “You two can still ride off into the sunset. You don’t have to be involved in this. They don’t have your future in a chokehold. They didn’t…” He stops himself. I think he was about to divulge the terrifying details of what they said they’d do to him. “Never mind.”