Stay Away From My Daughter

by Lorhainne Eckhart

  It couldn’t end like this. This wasn’t fair. She just needed a breath, but she couldn’t move.

  She vaguely heard someone yell, and then suddenly all the weight on her was gone. His hand was gone.

  She gasped, dragging in a breath, her throat aching. She was gasping on her hands and knees, coughing and fighting to fill her lungs as she crawled to the side of the truck. Her jeans were undone.

  She heard a man yell again, then the impact of a fist, a scuffle, fighting. Someone was slammed against the truck. She felt the rumble. She lifted her hand to her throat, and then she struggled to get up. The two men barely registered, one hitting the other. She was on her knees again, gasping.

  The truck door was still open, and a guy was punching her assailant over and over. Then somehow he was gone, running, and the other one started after him but turned back and took her in. A fear she’d never felt before had paralyzed her. Somehow, her hands shaking, she righted her jeans and buttoned them up.

  Then her rescuer was there in front of her, and she felt gravel digging into the palms of her hands as she tried to push herself up. He had a strong jaw and shaved dark hair, deep brown eyes, and two diamond studs in his ears.

  “You okay?” he said. His voice was deep, and he watched her, waiting for her to answer, but she couldn’t get her brain to register. She knew he was the one who had saved her, but she couldn’t get her tongue to move. She clutched at her throat, which still ached.

  He didn’t come any closer, and she instinctively backed away, scooting on her butt, feeling the hard wall of a tire at her back. She couldn’t move any farther. What was wrong with her?

  He didn’t touch her or move closer, as he was now squatting down, holding his large hand out, and she just stared at it. There was no way in hell she could touch him.

  “You’re hurt,” he said. “Your face. I’m going to call the police right now. Did you know him?” He had a cell phone out and was now standing, and he moved back, giving her space.

  She couldn’t move as she took him in. He was talking to someone now, but what he was saying didn’t register. She still couldn’t get her head around the fact that she’d just been attacked, how fast it had happened. She was feeling catatonic. It was dark except for the lights in the parking lot, and then she heard the siren.

  He was there again, squatting down in front of her, but she just sat, frozen, staring at her purse, which was lying on the ground—her keys too, and her wallet. “Can I help you up?” he said. “The police and help are on the way.” He still didn’t move closer.

  What could she say? She took in her purse and then crawled on her knees over to it to stuff everything back inside. He didn’t touch her, and now she took in his face, the hint of mocha to his skin. She just shook her head, as she couldn’t get her tongue to move. Why was she so stuck on his large hands?

  “You’re hurt, your face, your neck.” He gestured toward her.

  “I’m fine, it’s okay. Who was he?” she said. Her voice sounded so odd, and she was shaking—not just shaking, trembling. It had started inside her and moved outside. He didn’t try to touch her, but he didn’t pull his gaze from her. She should feel safe, but she was worried about the other guy. What if he came back?

  “You’re not fine, and it wasn’t okay,” he said. “Don’t be so polite. He assaulted you. I don’t know him, sorry. I was going to go after him, but I wasn’t sure how badly you were hurt. So you didn’t know him?”

  She pressed her hand to the side of the truck and went on her knees again. She could see her hand shaking. The back of it was scraped, and beads of blood welled as she stood up. He did too as if getting ready to catch her, the way he watched her. He was damn tall, wearing a red and white jacket and what looked like a gold class ring on his finger. Just then, the sheriff’s car pulled up.

  “I should go home,” she said. “I’m late. I was supposed to be home already. My dad, my parents…they’re going to be so mad at me. I said I was on my way home…” She stopped talking because she couldn’t make sense of what she was saying.

  He glanced only once to the cop car and back to her, shoving his hands in his pockets. “Look, I can tell how shaken up you are. Some guy messed with you. You’re not okay. The police are here. You need to talk to them so they can catch that guy. You should go to the hospital too, get checked out. And you shouldn’t be driving now.”

  The lights of the cop car were still flashing, and she was stuck on how kind his eyes were. He was tall, solid. She didn’t remember ever seeing him before.

  A deputy climbed out of the cruiser, wearing a tan uniform, and he walked over to her, glancing sternly at the man who’d saved her. She didn’t know what to say. Her throat ached, her face hurt, and she just wanted to get in the truck and drive away. She couldn’t make sense of what had just happened.

  She just shook her head as she held her keys and clutched her purse against her chest, then touched the door of her open truck. She was in a fog and just going through the motions.

  “Whoa, whoa, hang on a second, here,” said the deputy, who grabbed the open truck door. “You can’t go anywhere. I need you to tell me what happened here. A call came in about an assault…”

  She took him in. He had light hair, and she wondered for a minute if he’d touch her. She had to step back, shifting her glance to the other guy. The way he took in the cop, she wasn’t sure what to make of it.

  “She was attacked,” the guy said. “He was trying to rape her. I heard her scream, and I pulled the guy off. We fought, but he got away. He took off between the buildings.” This stranger who had saved her didn’t pull his gaze from her.

  The cop was now saying something into a walkie-talkie attached to his shirt. “There’s an ambulance on the way. How about we start with your names? Did either of you know the assailant?”

  “My name’s Sara, Sara Friessen. I did nothing wrong. I just want to go home. I don’t know him, even though he said I was flirting with him. I don’t remember seeing him. He said he was in the dorm, at the party. I just don’t recall. There were so many people there. I don’t know everyone. I have to go. I was supposed to be home already. My parents are waiting,” she said, feeling the emotion squeeze her chest. Although she’d lied before to her mom and dad, she realized that as angry as they had been, now they were going to be furious. She’d really screwed up this time.

  “Okay, Sara, let’s call your parents,” the deputy said. “And then I need to ask you if you’ve been drinking.”

  Chapter 2

  “Devon Reed,” he said. “I already told you my name and what happened.”

  He was talking to the sheriff, who had shown up in a red minivan, which he was sure wasn’t standard department issue, dressed in blue jeans and a blue checkered shirt. It appeared as if he’d gotten dressed in a hurry.

  The babe was now sitting on the back end of an ambulance, its lights flashing too. She still had that spooked look in her eyes, shock, but at the same time, he wanted to tell her how lucky she was that he’d been walking by. If he hadn’t, she would’ve been just another statistic, and he couldn’t shake the thought that she could’ve ended up ice cold on a slab at the morgue. What a waste of a life.

  “Well, tell me again about the guy you pulled off her,” the sheriff said. “You seen him before? You know him?”

  He wondered, by the way the sheriff was looking at him, the way he was talking to him, whether he thought he’d done something. Devon could feel his temper starting to spike, and he had to fight the urge to tell the cop that he wasn’t the bad guy here. This had happened one too many times.

  “No idea who he was. Never seen him before. It happened too fast. I heard her scream, saw that he’d pinned her to the ground and was on top of her. He was working her pants down, and I ran over and pulled him off her. I hit him, and he managed to knock a few off on me before he got away. It was a white boy, light hair, a little shorter than me, not scrawny, wearing a green and white shirt. A college kid, likely.
That’s all I got. I could’ve gone after him, but you know the scenario, a black man running down a white guy…” He let the words hang.

  The sheriff allowed his shrewd gaze to linger as if he wasn’t impressed. “You’re sounding defensive. If you didn’t do anything, I can’t help wondering why I’m getting this attitude. So you’re saying you just let him go?”

  Why did it sound as if he was the bad guy here? He didn’t like the way this was starting to feel.

  “Fuck off,” Devon snapped. “I’m not the one who attacked the chick. I went back to check on her, to see if she was hurt. She looked hurt. It was a choice I made at the time, and I stand by it. I don’t give a fuck what you think.” He squeezed his fists, which were hanging by his sides, taking in the girl again. She had blond hair, a scrape on her face, and wore a low-cut shirt. The fancy truck was still sitting there with its door open. Students from the dorms had filed out, and he wondered how many would think he was the one who had done something. He was starting to feel far too much interest coming his way.

  “So what were you doing here at this time of night? You live at the dorms, out for a late-night walk, what?”

  He wondered if his annoyance showed in his expression. “You mean what was a black man doing out this time of night when a white woman was being pinned to the ground and about to be raped—by a white guy, I might add? You trying to insinuate something, like maybe me being out means I was up to no good because I’m a black man?” Even he could hear that he sounded like an asshole, but he was done with this situation being twisted. “I saved her, so don’t pin any of this on me, and let me be damn fucking clear: If it were a black guy who’d done that to her and a white guy had pulled him off, you’d all be pinning a medal to his chest and starting a city-wide manhunt instead of wasting time with this.” He gestured to the scene. There was one deputy, one sheriff, and an ambulance with lights flashing. That was it. He couldn’t shake the absurdity of the imbalance.

  “Now just hang on a second,” the sheriff said. “No one is accusing you, so stop being so damn defensive. It sounds to me as if you’re trying to label me a racist. I can assure you I’d be asking the very same questions, doesn’t matter your gender or color, but here you are, angry, with a chip on your shoulder. Seems you’re not cooperating but are trying to spin this into some racist crap about police overreach.”

  The girl was now making her way over, shrugging off the blanket and the medic. He could see how bad her face was marked up, the bruising on her neck. Even her lip was puffy. At the same time, he wondered if the cop really believed what he was saying.

  “Excuse me,” she said. “I just wanted to thank you…”

  He wondered by the way she stopped talking if she wanted to say more.

  The sheriff turned his shrewd gaze on her. “Hey, Sara, get back in the ambulance. I want you off to the hospital, and we need to have you checked out by a doctor. Your mom and dad are on their way, too.”

  Then he spotted headlights, a truck driving too fast, also black and fancy.

  The sheriff turned and lifted his hand. “And there he is. Didn’t take him long.”

  By the way he said it and then rested his hand on Sara’s shoulder, Devon could see the familiarity. So he knew her. He found himself looking over the crowd of kids, all watching, cell phones out and likely recording anything and everything they could.

  “You should get back in the ambulance, get checked out,” Devon added as he realized she was still standing there in front of him, and he took in the man and woman who stepped out of the black truck. The sheriff stepped over to them.

  “I just wanted to thank you again,” the girl said. “I should know your name. I’m Sara Friessen.” Instead of holding her hand out, she pulled her arms around herself. Of course, she was still shaking.

  “Sara, are you all right?” the woman cried as she ran over. Devon could see the resemblance as she pulled her daughter into her arms. A tall man the same height and build as the sheriff, with a mix of dark and gray hair, rushed over too. He carried himself like a man who made things happen. His arms were around Sara, and she was sandwiched between the couple.

  These were parents who loved their kid, just another privileged white family. He couldn’t help wondering what would happen to him. Could some part of this fall on him? If he’d been smart, he would’ve kept walking.

  Then the man was watching him and said, “You the one who saved my daughter?”

  Devon nodded. “Yeah,” he said, and he pulled his hand from his pocket when the man held out his hand to him. He hadn’t expected it. “Devon Reed.”

  The man still had his arm around his daughter as he shook his hand with a strong grip, not pulling his gaze from him. “Andy Friessen, and this is my wife, Laura.” His eyes were icy blue, as if he’d like to kill someone. Yeah, he knew that look, but he still didn’t know what was to come.

  “Thank you, Devon,” Sara said. Laura still had both her hands on Sara’s arms, and she must have touched a sore spot, as Sara hissed.

  “You should take your daughter to the hospital,” Devon said. “She was worked over pretty good, from what I saw, before I pulled him off her. It had gotten pretty rough.”

  Andy’s expression darkened with the kind of look he knew well, that of a man who could be pushed only so far.

  The sheriff was back, and Laura had somehow maneuvered Sara back to the ambulance. Only Andy and the sheriff now stood in front of him. Of course, he could feel their anger.

  “So how did this happen, Blake?” Andy said, looking to the sheriff, who was now shaking his head.

  “Was just trying to get to the bottom of it when you showed up. Let me do my job, Andy, so we can find the guy.”

  Devon didn’t miss the warning in the sheriff’s tone or the fact that the men knew each other.

  “You know who attacked her?” Andy said, giving all his attention to Devon and clearly ignoring the sheriff’s request.

  “Never seen him before, but then, this is a big campus,” Devon said. He didn’t want to rehash the fact that he hadn’t run the guy down. He could have, but then he’d seen her face. “He was choking her,” he said. “She was gasping and hurt, and I didn’t want to leave her. I gave your deputy the description of the guy already.”

  The two glanced to each other.

  “I don’t know him,” Devon said. “I’ll say it again, and I don’t know what else I can add. I hope your daughter is okay, but maybe, word of advice, she shouldn’t be walking through dark campus parking lots alone late at night.”

  The father raised a brow. Devon couldn’t believe he’d said that.

  “So you go to school here?” the sheriff asked, and it took him a second to realize that he was being questioned again.

  “What relevance does that have to any of this?” he replied. The asshole tone was back in his voice, but the last thing he wanted to talk about was the real reason he’d been on campus. “Now is there more, or can I go?”

  Neither the sheriff nor Andy pulled their gazes from him.

  “Now I’m thinking you’ve got something to hide,” the sheriff said.

  Anyone other than him would likely have cowered under the way the two were staring him down, but he just stared right back and gave them nothing. “Nope, just done here and done with this interrogation. I saved the girl, gave you a description, and as I said to you before, that white guy tried to rape her, and a black guy saved her, yet here you are, sounding an awful lot like you want to pin something on me. Now, unless I’m under arrest, I’m leaving,” he said, knowing he was pushing it. “You already have my contact information.”

  Andy glanced at the sheriff. “Why would any of this be pinned on you? Did I miss something? Can someone fill me in here?”

  “No,” the sheriff replied. He was getting pissed, and Devon knew he needed to go. “It’s just Mister Reed here, by the sounds of it, has some issues with the police. I’d like you to come down to the station, get you to look at some photos and see
about ID-ing the guy.”

  Devon just shook his head. The last thing he wanted was to be anywhere near a cop shop. “No, I gave you a description. Am I under arrest?” he added, jamming his hands in his pockets. He glanced over to see that the girl was now sitting back in the ambulance.

  The face the sheriff made was the kind that let Devon know he was getting on his bad side. “No, you’re not under arrest,” he replied, letting it hang as if the “but” was yet to come. Then he pulled in another breath and finally said, “Don’t leave town.”

  Devon realized the sheriff wasn’t seeing him as a good Samaritan who’d saved the girl—but then, Devon belonged to a dark, ruthless world. A good guy was someone he could never be.

  Chapter 3

  She could hear her dad outside the curtained-off area in the emergency room, talking to the sheriff, as her mom helped her put on the hospital gown. She was already sore, with bruising down her side, which was now turning purple and was the reason she was having trouble pulling in a full breath. Add in the throbbing in her arm, her shoulder, and her face, which was scraped from her chin to her cheek and bruised under her eye where he had slugged her, and she knew the soreness she was feeling now would be worse in the morning. Then there was her hand. She could see bits of grit and dirt under the blood that was already crusting over.

  “Come on, get up there, easy now,” Laura said, helping her up on the gurney and covering her with a cotton blanket. She had put a pillow under her head and lifted the bed so she was sitting up.

  Sara took a second to rest, her mom’s hand on her forehead. It was nice having her there to fuss over her. “I just want to go home, Mom. I’m fine. Why did I have to come to the hospital?”

  “Because, Sara, you were attacked and you were hurt. We just need a doctor to check you over, make sure you’re okay, and then we’ll go home.” Her mom sounded so calm. She was hovering over her but offered a reassuring smile. There was just something about her mom. Sara swore she could handle anything. Her hand was still resting on Sara’s forehead, and she smoothed back her hair. “You’re going to be okay. Your dad and I are here.”