“Oh, no, I’m happy I got to see you,” I said, my mind reeling, the fever rising again.
A soft knock sounded on the door, and a curvy, older woman in a maid’s uniform with a shock of red hair, graying at the temples, hurried over. She cast me a quick look, then spoke softly to Nigel, but I heard her. Seemed the cops were here.
He inclined his head. “Oh, Marcy, this is Rayen Logan, our guest. See that she has anything she needs. Ray, Marcy is my housekeeper.”
“Hello, Ms. Logan.”
“Oh, please, it’s just Ray.”
She smiled and glanced back at Nigel. “Shall I show them to the study?”
Nigel frowned. “No, up here. Ray’s in pain.”
She gave a little a nod and hurried off, her soft-soled shoes soundless on the floor.
“It’s just routine questions about the assault,” he said.
I nodded. I had to tell Petra about this. But later, when I didn’t feel so drowsy.
Marcy reappeared moments later. Two cops strode in behind her, one burly and the other wiry with stern features, their gazes skimming the bruise on my jaw from being punched.
After fifteen minutes, their questions answered, they assured me that Oscar would spend some time in jail for the assault, then stern cop explained, probably at my dazed expression, “If the defendant decides to plead out, you’ll have the option of attending his sentencing and provide a statement to the judge. If he fights the charge, then you would have to testify in court.”
Great. But I would, if it meant locking up the damn idiot.
With a nod at Nigel, they left.
At least Petra and Cara would be safe.
“Rest, my dear,” Nigel said. “These things won’t happen straight away. He’s safe behind bars for now.” He patted my hand and followed them, shutting the door behind him.
I eased down into the bed, and a warm, citrusy scent with a hint of sandalwood surrounded me…
* * *
A strident ringing startled me awake again. With a groan, I reached for my phone on the nightstand as the blaring ended. Three missed calls from Ila. Crap. I hit redial.
“Ray, you ready? We’re leaving for Millbrae soon. We’ll be at your place in an hour.”
What?—No!“Okay,” I mumbled, ending the call.
I checked my cell. No calls or texts from Jack.Nada.
Well, I told him I would leave if he wasn’t here. I pushed off the bed, swayed, and grabbed the bedside table. Dammit.
As my brain settled inside my skull, and feeling a little steadier on my feet, I found my clean skirt and sweater set on the padded stool at the foot of the bed, but no sign of my ruined top. It didn’t matter, Jack’s t-shirt would do, even if it was loose and long. I dressed, then pushed my feet into my sandals. As I straightened, the magnificent view of the dazzling blue ocean caught my attention.
Curious, I padded to the window, getting a better view of Golden Gate Bridge a distance away and the beach far below the house. So beautiful and serene.
My dorm window overlooked another dingy building wall.
Ugh, I didn’t have time to linger and admire the scenery. My sister would be coming for me soon, which reminded me that I had to check on Wilbur and put out enough food for him for the weekend. Man, he wasn’t going to be happy, but I refused to leave out tuna and stink up my place.
However, deeper, disappointment took hold that Jack hadn’t bothered to call or even text that he would be late or if he was coming at all. I grabbed my meds from the nightstand. I could send him a message, but I didn’t want to. Instead, I scribbled him a note.
I had to leave. Thanks for taking care of me.
I set the note on the side table where he could see it, collected my things, and walked out.
