“Over here!” A neighbor was waving frantically from the sidewalk, pointing toward us. “They’re over here! He attacked them!”
Two officers approached with their hands on their holsters, flashlights cutting through the darkness. One of them, older, with gray at his temples, took in the scene with the sharp eyes of someone who’d seen plenty of bad nights.
“Sir, I need you to step away from the woman.”
I didn’t move. Couldn’t. Harper’s fingers were still twisted in my shirt, and I wasn’t about to let go of her.
“He’s not the threat.” Harper’s voice was wrecked, barely above a whisper, but there was steel underneath it. “That one is.”
She pointed at Silas, who was starting to stir on the grass, groaning and coughing.
“He’s my ex,” she continued, strength in every syllable. “He stalked me across state lines. Set fire to my house.” She paused to cough, then kept going. “And he tried to strangle me to death. This man saved my life.”
The older officer’s eyes flicked to the burning bungalow. To the SUV at the end of the driveway, doors still hanging open. To Silas on the ground. Back to us.
“That true?” he asked, looking at me.
“Every word,” I managed.
“I saw it,” the neighbor added, stepping closer. An older woman in a bathrobe, her face pale in the strobing lights. “I came out when I heard the screaming. That man”—she pointed at Silas—“had his hands around her throat. This one pulled him off. Saved her life.”
The officer nodded once. Decisively. Then he turned to his partner. “Cuff him.”
The younger officer moved toward Silas, pulling out his handcuffs. Silas was conscious now, trying to push himself up.
His voice was hoarse. Broken. “I was a corrections officer. I’m one of you.”
“You’re under arrest,” the younger officer said flatly, yanking Silas’s arms behind his back. “You have the right to remain silent. I suggest you use it.”
The click of the handcuffs was the most satisfying sound I’d ever heard.
“This is a mistake,” Silas slurred as they hauled him to his feet. “She’s lying. They’re both lying. I’m the victim here.”
“I have security cameras.” A neighbor pointed to her house, in full view of this lawn. “They’ll have captured everything, proving he’s the aggressor.”
Silas opened his mouth, then shut it. Realizing he was fucked.
The paramedics reached us then, a man and a woman with determined faces and arms full of equipment.
“Sir, ma’am, we need to assess you both,” the woman said, kneeling beside us. “Can you tell me your names?”
“Harper,” she whispered. “Harper.”
“Knox,” I managed.
“Okay, Harper, Knox, you’ve both inhaled a lot of smoke. We’re going to get you on oxygen and transport you to the hospital.”
I watched them load Silas into the back of an ambulance, still cuffed. His eyes found mine, still glaring full of hate and venom.
“You know what inmates do to former correctional officers in prison?” I shouted with a smirk.
His eyes went wide, and in them, I saw something I’d never expected to see from a man like him.
Fear.
Then the doors to the ambulance holding him shut.
Ironic justice.
