“I was sitting on the beach and a man approached from behind. I fought him, but he got the better of me and tried to drown me.”
“How did you escape?”
“I didn’t escape.”
“You’re alive. He didn’t drown you. How did you get out of that?”
The detective was a blunt-force interrogator—right to the heart of things. No coddling for him, except to share his jacket.
She focused on the still-steaming coffee. What did it matter? Why was he asking that question? She tried to shove the drama, the emotion of that moment, behind her. Her breathing hitched.
She glanced up to his eyes. The steel had overtaken the blue and turned dark.
“I pretended to be dead.”
His lids barely narrowed. He definitely knew how to control his expression and body language. “And that savedyour life. You fought the guy, so you must have gotten a good look at him.”
“I did, which might put me in danger if he learns I’m alive.”
“It could. Can you describe him?”
She gave him her detailed description, gathered during the fight for her life, so it was probably emotionally distorted.
“We’ll get you with a forensic artist.”
“You have an artist out here?”
His brows shot up, and she suspected he fought a smile. “We can get the resources we need.”
“I understand.” Forensic artists weren’t necessarily easy to come by.
He shoved his mug aside and leaned closer, his eyes piercing, studying, analyzing. She wanted to look away. To shift in her seat, but she held her own. This would be over soon, and then in private, she could lose it. Sob into a pillow. Whatever it took to get over this day.
“Any clue why the man attacked you and stole your bag and possibly your laptop?”
She recognized the trick question. “No. I mean...” Oh shoot. If she was going to let him ask the questions, she just blew it.
He stared at her, waiting, as if he might make her feel like she was the guilty party here instead of the victim.
The doorbell rang again, and boots clomped. Deputy Trent Riker stood over them at the table. The two male EMTs joined them too.
Detective Sanders stopped the recording. “I’m in the middle of her statement, Trent.”
“I’ve talked to the few that were on the beach to learn if we have any other witnesses.” His gaze flicked to Cressida, then back to the detective. “No one saw anything.”
Detective Sanders didn’t react to his words. “Get the CCTV recording on all these buildings, every one of them at the marina.”
The deputy gave a slight frown, then nodded.
One of the EMTs stepped forward. “Ma’am, if you don’t think you need medical attention, then we can be of use someplace else.”
“I appreciate all you’ve done,” Cressida said. “Thank you. If I start to feel funny, I’ll get help.”
The two EMTs and Deputy Riker shared a look as if they were friends and left her alone with the detective.
“Don’t think that interruption distracted me.” He switched the recording back on, adding an explanation about the pause. “You were about to explain to me why someone attacked you. Why someone stole your bag on the beach and your laptop from this chandlery shop.”
“I wasn’t going to tell you any such thing because I don’t know.”
