Mason, just in time to keep me from sticking my foot in my mouth again. He’s heading back toward us, a bunch of papers tucked under his arm that I’m guessing is what he went to the car for, and his expression is sharper now.
Whatever they were doing, it’s not done yet.
Alex straightens slightly; the shift is subtle but immediate. Back to work mode. I recognize it because I do the same thing.
“I should get back,” he sighs.
“Right,” I nod, even though part of me wants to keep him standing here just a little longer.
“Liv.”
The way he says my name… damn.
“Yeah?”
“Be careful.” There’s nothing casual about it. No teasing, no edge of humor. Just intent.
“I will,” I say. It’s not entirely true but I think we both know that.
His eyes linger for one last second before he turns and walks toward Mason, already slipping back into whatever role he was playing before I stuck myself into the middle of it.
My pulse doesn’t settle even as I turn toward the corner store, still committed to the excuse I’d made for myself. But as I walk, one thought keeps circling back louder than the rest.
He said I mattered.
And what does he want me to stay safe from?
Chapter 5
Liv
We’ve only got two more hours on our shift, but that timeframe is going to feel like an eternity at this rate. A dry evening, rare in this part of town. Normally we’ve responded to at least one shooting by this point.
Scott’s been trying to stick his pencil in the ceiling tile above him for an hour. I’d mention it to him, point out how bored he must be to have spent this long doing something so uninteresting… but I’ve been watching him the whole time, so I’ve got no ground to stand on.
He’s got his shot zeroed in and I think, yet again, that this will be the one that makes it. But right as he makes his shot, the radio crackles to life, startling him and making him miss. Not like it was the radio’s fault, he was probably gonna miss anyway.
“Unit 12, respond priority one. Female, mid-twenties, conscious, minor injuries, PD on scene requesting medical clearance.”
My eyes meet Scott’s and I instantly know we’re thinking the same thing. PD requesting clearance in this area of town usually means someone’s being detained.
“Copy,” I say into the radio clutched in one hand while the other grabs the keys off the table in front of me.
The address hits a second later, a block down from my apartment.
Of course it is. Now I’m even more assured that it’s an arrest.
“Your neighborhood just keeps getting more and more popular,” Scott mutters as we climb in the rig.
“Yeah,” I say, staring out the windshield as we pull into traffic. “Lucky me.”
It’s not a time sensitive call and we’re just a few blocks away, so I agree with the code one designation. Still, the sound of the rig’s rumbling engine cuts through the evening, bouncing off buildings that have seen better years. The streetlights have already flickered to life and are casting long shadows across cracked sidewalks and boarded-up windows.
By the time we arrive, there are already two squad cars parked crookedly along the curb. But behind one sits a familiar looking sedan and a black motorcycle parked under a streetlight causing the metal to gleam with intrigue.
My eyes scan the scene, trying to gather as much information as I can while Scott and I hop out of the rig, med bag slung over Scott’s shoulder. One of the officers is standing near the entrance to a narrow alleyway where more voices sound, telling me there’s more officers in the darkness, while another stands with Alex and Mason. The officer gestures towards the exterior of the building to the left where a young woman sits on the ground, knees pulled up to her chest, and arms wrapped tightly around herself like she’s trying to hold something in. Her brown hair is mussed in her face, one sneaker untied, and her zip-up is strewn open and showing the collar of her t-shirt is torn.
It’s immediately clear that I was wrong about this being an arrest. But if they want medical clearance… then she must be refusing to go to the hospital. And therefore, refusing a rape kit.
