“Once you’re cleared medically, yes. They’ll take you to the station for booking.”
“How did he die?”
Ryker studied me. “What do you mean?”
“Does it look like self-defense?”
“That’s what the investigation will determine.”
“How many times was he … cut? Stabbed?”
“Why?”
“Because I’m trying to understand what happened. Did I get in one shot in self-defense or …”
“I don’t know yet, but there are many cases where the victim fights back excessively, and it’s still self-defense. I’ll have more answers once I get the autopsy report. I want to know exactly what killed him, whether there were defensive wounds on his body, whether there’s any evidence he attacked you first.” His eyes flicked to my bandaged head. “That head wound of yours is already documented. If he caused it, that’s our foundation for self-defense.” He shifted, his gaze going distant for a moment, his lawyer brain at work. “I’m also having the knife tested. Not just for blood, but for prints. If his fingerprints are anywhere on that blade or handle, it means he struggled with you for control or had control to begin with.” His eyes sharpened on mine. “That might help us with planting doubt about premeditation.”
He exhaled, shifting gears. “Now, within forty-eight hours of arrest, you’ll appear before a judge for a bond hearing. Prosecutors will argue whether to hold you or set bail.”
“Hold me? As in jail? Indefinitely?”
“I’ll argue you’re not a flight risk. That you have ties to the community.”
How is this real?
“Do you think they’ll grant bail?”
“Depends on a lot of factors. But one of them …” He glanced at the door Rodriguez had exited through. “Faith, are you certain that you don’t know the identity of the man in the woods?”
Before I could answer, before I could even process the question fully, the door burst open again. Two uniforms appeared, their faces carved from stone.
“Faith Morrison?” The taller one held up cuffs that caught the fluorescent light. “You’re under arrest for first-degree homicide.”
Ryker was between them and me before they’d finished the sentence, his entire body a wall of protective fury. “She’s not going anywhere until she’s medically cleared.”
“Doctor signed off five minutes ago,” the shorter officer said, holding up paperwork. “Time to go.”
“She needs to change first.”
The officers exchanged an irritated look as Ryker opened the door and waited for them to leave.
“I’ll step out,” Ryker said.
“It’s fine.” I stood up carefully, noting the way Ryker seemed on guard, should I sway.
I don’t know why I turned my back to him. Shame maybe. He’d already seen me naked, but now, I felt too damn vulnerable to face him. Over my shoulder, I noticed that Ryker must have sensed my discomfort because he turned to give me privacy.
When the hospital gown fell away, I caught my reflection in the dark screen of a monitor and looked away fast. The paper scrubs crinkled as I pulled them on, stiff and cold against my skin, and the disposable underwear felt like wearing a diaper. The foam slippers were too big, slapping against my heels when I took a step.
“I’m done.”
When Ryker turned, his eyes swept over me once, something fierce and protective flashing through them before he schooled his expression.
Without a word, he grabbed his jacket from the chair and draped it over my shoulders.
“You don’t have to?—”
“It’s cold outside; you’re wearing it.”
