Hearing her name attached to the military rank filled Dot with an exhilarating sense of pride. She’d done it. She’d made it all the way through, and she was no longer afraid.
“Well, Petty Officer Wren Renwick,” she replied. “I say we’d better get packing. No more school for us.”
This time, it was the real thing.
eighteenDASH— Toronto, Ontario —
Dash and Ginny rushed out of the garage, and Dash nearly slipped on an unexpected patch of ice. The forecasted snowstorm had arrived.
“Where’s the police station?” Ginny asked.
Dash had no idea. She still felt shaky and sick after Jim’s attack. All she wanted was to curl up in her bed and try to forget it had ever happened. “Let’s just go home. They won’t do anything. Nothing happened in the end.”
“Nonsense,” Ginny replied. “Something happened, and I saw it. We can’t just let this go, Dash. What if he tries it again on you or someone else?”
Wordless, Dash lowered her chin to her chest, shielding her face from the storm, and followed Ginny up the street. It was the oddest feeling, being cold on the outside and numb on the inside. She couldn’t think straight, just kept feeling that pressure on her throat and seeing Jim’s wild eyes. Ginny was her lifeline, and she relied on her judgement. She trudged through the rapidly darkening evening, using the weak streetlights and her friend’s boot prints to get through the snow.
“Ah!” Ginny cried out after a while. “Look!”
A squad car rolled gingerly down the street toward them, navigating the slippery surface, and the girls waved at him to stop. The driver rolled down his window and smiled at them expectantly. He was middle-aged, with saggy pouches under his eyes that reminded Dash of a basset hound. He looked like somebody’s sweet old grandpa.
“What are you two ladies doing out here?”
“We need to report an attack,” Ginny said breathlessly, leaning toward his window.
“What kind of attack?” he asked.
She pointed at Dash. “A man tried to… uh—”
“Where is he now?”
“Probably just waking up,” Ginny admitted. “A shovel fell on his head.”
The policeman studied the two of them. “I’ll drive you to the station. You can make a report there.”
They piled in gratefully, scattering snow onto his black upholstery. It felt good to be out of the wind, but anxiety welled in Dash’s stomach. She knew Ginny was right, but she didn’t want to talk about Jim. Didn’t want to think about what had happened.
“Why are you out here, sir?” Ginny asked. “You’re the only car on the road.”
“That’s what we’re hoping,” he replied. “I have to watch out for any other fools driving in this, make sure everyone is all right. And I get to play the knight in shining armour for pretty young girls like yourselves.”
He dropped them off at the station and told them to check in at the front desk. There, a constable listened as Ginny told him what had happened. This man, Dash noted, did not look like anybody’s sweet old anything. Just a cocky young policeman appearing impressed with himself.
“Was anyone hurt?”
“Look at her neck,” Ginny said. “That’s going to be a bruise.”
“That’s it? What do you want me to do about a bruise?” he asked.
“I should think that’s obvious.” Ginny stretched to her full, impressive height. “He should be thrown in jail.”
“For making a pass at a girl?”
Dash and Ginny exchanged a glance.
“It wasn’t a pass. It was an attack,” Dash said, her voice coming out hoarse.
He lifted an eyebrow, considering her, then he let out a huff and reached for a paper and pen. “Right. Right. Well, I’ll tell you what. I’ll write it all down, and someone will look into it tomorrow.”
