She sounded stronger than even minutes before. Her chin high in defiance of having been called a victim.
If the situation weren’t so damn serious, Emmett would have smiled at her rebuke of the well-intended label. And though he had no right to do so he couldn’t help but to be proud.
Detective Boone reached inside his gray sportscoat,retrieving a small notebook and pen. To Janie, he answered, “Now, I need you to tell me everything you can remember. Even the small stuff can help.” He clicked open the pen with a slight smile. “You’d be surprised at how many times cases similar to yours have been broken wide open by the most obscure detail.”
Emmett stood at her side and listened intently as she walked the detective through the events that had recently transpired. By the time she was finished, the anger he’d felt earlier had returned with a fiery vengeance.
“You didn’t see his face; is that correct?” Boone made a few notes in his tiny notepad.
Janie carefully gave a slow shake of her head. “He was wearing a ski mask. Black nylon. The kind that covers everything but the eyes and mouth.”
“What about his hands? Did you happen to notice any unusual markings or tattoos? Anything like that?”
“He was wearing gloves,” she told him, shooting down the man’s presumed hopes of finding any useable prints. “They were also black. Leather. Genuine,” she added in a rush. “Not the fake stuff.”
After jotting down those facts, Boone asked next, “Any guesses on his height and weight?”
“He was tall.” She turned those gorgeous eyes Emmett’s way. “How tall are you?”
“Six-five.”
“I’d say your guy is closer to six-two. Maybe six-three. And he was Caucasian. I could see the skin around his eyes and mouth. Oh, and his lips were thinner than Emmett’s, too.”
“Tall, white, thin lips,” Boone muttered as he wrote. “Got it. What about his eyes?”
A visible shiver raced down Janie’s spine, making Emmett wish he could pull her to his side for comfort.
“They were green.” Her delicate throat worked an audible swallow. “I don’t think I’ll be able to forget them.”
That last part pulled at heartstrings Emmett had no idea he possessed. He suddenly found himself wishing he could erase those awful memories for her forever.
“Did you see what he was wearing?” Boone continued.
“He had on a black, zip-up jacket, black pants, and black shoes.”
The woman’s precise recollection in the face of such a terrifying situation was impressive as hell. Most people would be too overwhelmed by shock and fear to remember even the most basic details, let alone all the information Janie had shared.
She’d also done a damn fine job of holding herself together. Even in the moments immediately following her attack, the beautiful brunette never once broke down or lost her composure.
Only a single tear had fallen. He wouldn’t have blamed her if she’d fallen into a sobbing, blubbering mess. But Janie Reynolds had proven herself to be a fighter. A survivor who hadn’t given up, even in the very moment she thought she was going to die.
“That’s great, Miss Reynolds. This is all very helpful. I think I just have one final question, for now.” The detective looked up from his notes. “Did the man who assaulted you say anything while he was here?”
“Yes.”
He did?
“He did?” Boone’s brows arched high.
It was the first Emmett was hearing of this, but to be fair, they’d been a bit pre-occupied since everything happened. He’d been so focused on making sure she truly was okay, that by the time the medics and cops arrived, they’d only had time to learn the basic details of the actual attack.
“What did the asshole say?” he growled.
Boone’s dark stare moved his way. But Emmett ignored the other man and focused on Janie, who’d just pulled her bottom lip in nervously between her teeth.
“Like I already explained, I knew Emmett and the others were almost here, and when I called him, it somehow ended up on speaker. He could hear me screaming for help, and we could hear Emmett yelling that they were already on the elevator.”
“So the assailant knew he needed to leave before your friends arrived.”
