Second, we’d deal with the police and hope that this child wasn’t dead somewhere in a ditch once this so-called “cop” finished with her.
“Hey…” Harlow’s eyes went narrow for a moment. “Is that Jasper’s dad’s watch?”
I shrugged, though I did feel slightly horrible about taking it now that I knew it was his dad’s.
I couldn’t change anything, however.
Not now.
“Safe keeping during his run today,” I lied as I pulled to a stop right outside the hospital entrance. “Come on. Let’s get you inside.”
I’d been waiting in the ER lobby for a little over an hour when shit hit the fan.
The cop, Cedrick, came through the door looking all concerned.
His daughter, cowering at his side, was with him and looking none the worse for wear.
But I knew abusers well.
When they hurt someone, they made sure to keep the bruises to the clothed areas so they weren’t visible.
And the little girl, all of eight or nine, looked like a shell of a person.
She wasn’t crying, but it was clear that she had been at one point.
She cringed every time her father raised his voice, too.
I’d already spoken to the police.
I’d also noticed the bikers arriving outside, one by one, as they holed up in the parking lot waiting.
Not interrupting, but waiting.
They’d let the man come into the lobby with his daughter.
But they did not let him get back to see Harlow, who was currently in the back with her other best friend, Catori. And Catori’s very handsome husband, Laric.
Laric had come out to the lobby an hour ago to make a phone call to someone, and that was when the bikers started to show up.
The cops were currently in the lobby, too, and I had a feeling they were trying to figure out how to get the daughter away from the cop without causing a scene or getting the daughter hurt any further.
Because, I was right.
The cops had believed Harlow instantly upon her sharing her story with them.
It was halfway through that discussion that Catori had arrived and I’d snuck out to give her privacy.
Which led me to now, sitting in the waiting room waiting to see what happened next.
I could’ve gone home.
I probably should have.
Yet, there I was, waiting for the other shoe to drop.
It was my curse: curiosity.
There was a reason that they said, “curiosity killed the cat.”
