“I’m sure the hospital has notified the police that you’re awake by now. An officer is probably already on their way to take your statement. I would strongly suggest you request to be placed in protective custody.”
Somehow, even with ten years of duty under my belt, I hadn’t expected that response from her. I should’ve known that violence didn’t have a type. It took innocents every day, especially when they looked like Evelyn and me. Discomfort settled in my gut as I looked at her wilted form.
“They can’t help me,” she muttered, head still bowed.
At first, I was sure I misheard her, then it clicked. “What do you mean?”
Her head popped up at the sound of the metal chair scraping the floor when I stood. “Nothing.”
It wasn’t nothing.
“Was there anything else you needed from me?” she sniffed, turning her back to me to pour a cup of water.
Message received.
Reaching into my back pocket, I pulled out one of my cards, placing it on the table before writing my cell phone number on the back.
Clearing my throat, I tapped the card on the table, catching her attention once more.
“Here’s my number. You can always call the firehouse, but if you want to reach me directly, my cell is on the back. The firehouse has resources you can use to get back on your feet. Call me if you need anything. Anything at all.”
A nod was all she gave me.
Turning around, I made my way to the door. Before I could pull the door open, it swung in, revealing a police officer on the other side.
You checked on her.
You did your job.
Leave it to the police.
I left the officer with Evelyn and stepped out into the hall.
Tipping my head to the ceiling, I let out a long sigh.
My bed was calling my name. Once I made it out of the hospital and into my truck, I checked my phone. There was a text from my boy Danny about the poker game tonight that I completely forgot about. Letting out a string of curses, I put the car in drive and started my journey to Brooklyn.
I wouldn't be getting any sleep for a while.
Chapter 3
Evelyn
Istared at the FDNY card Parker left on the table until I heard my name being called.
“Evelyn Howard.”
An officer stood where Parker once was, notepad in hand, waiting for my response.
“Yes, and you are?”
“Officer Grant. I’m here to take your statement. Can you tell me what happened?”
There wasn’t much to tell, and little faith that the police would help me. They hadn’t done much for me when Celeste was murdered.
“I woke up to a firefighter telling me that my house was on fire. Now he’s just told me that it was intentional.”
The officer wrote something in his notepad. “We’ll be collaborating with the fire department on this investigation. I’m sure that information will be in the report. Do you have any idea who might be trying to harm you?”
