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I acknowledge with a small nod. Of course she is.

She glares at the officer. “I’m trying to get you out. Don’t worry about a thing.”

The officer tells her to keep moving and nudges me toward a different room. He leaves Regina behind, who demands to speak with the sheriff.

This room is not much different from the first. The only difference is instead of a bench, it has a small table and a stool on either side. The officer tells me to take a seat and leaves me alone again. The other stool is painfully empty as at least another hour goes by. The door finally opens, and I lift my heavy head. Sarah Crawley walks in, and I breathe a deep sigh of relief.

The stool scrapes along the floor as she pulls it out and takes a seat across from me. She sets two cups of black coffee in front of us. “Sorry it’s not as fancy as you’re used to, but I thought you might need an upper.”

It smells amazing but tastes horrible. It’s exactly what I needed.

“Thanks,” I say.

Her eyebrows lift straight to her forehead, and she leans back, looking very much like the detective I remember. “Is that all you have to say right now?”

I merely shrug. “He deserved it.”

This garners a laugh. “I don’t doubt that for one second. Do you want to tell me what happened? You sliced his face, Layla. Then stabbed him five times. That’s a pretty serious charge against you.”

My stomach twists. “I want to tell you I’m sorry, but I’m not.”

She cocks her head and sighs. “Good news is between Regina and I, we’ve gotten you released. Charges are still pending, but for now you’re being released into Regina’s care.”

I flick my eyes up to her. “You and Regina? As in you’re working together?”

“Your mother called me. So yes, we are on the same team when it comes to you. If it were up to your mom, she would keep you here for the night. Regina strongly encouraged her against that due to your mental health struggles.”

“Is that what we’re calling them now?” Clearly, I’m deeply disturbed, but mental health struggles is the best for the Ashby image.

Her hard eyes soften as they often do when it comes to me. “Can you tell me what happened?”

“He tried to kiss me and touch me in places I didn’t want him to.”

She taps her fingers. “So, sticking a wineglass in his face was the way to deal with it?”

I blink twice at her. “Yeah. What would you do if someone threatened you? He was going to rape me, tape it, and try to blackmail me.”

She dips her chin and stares right into my soul, and I say this to her with my whole heart. “Self-defense is real. But attempting to kiss a willing recipient—your mother told me you were all over him at dinner.”

My blood freezes. “He was going to hurt me.”

So I stopped him.

A painful pause as I say the words out loud. Sarah glances up at the camera, giving it the kill sign. Within a few seconds, the light on the camera goes off. Detective Crawley still has influence in this police department. I should care to remember that.

Sarah sits back in her chair—a silent stand-off brews between the two of us. She coughs. “You’re playing a dangerous game, kid. I called a favor in from my friend in forensics. I got the results of your rape kit.”

Bile shoots into my throat, threatening to expel out of my mouth. “And?”

Her face is neutral. “I’m not one hundred percent certain it’s you because you were admitted as a Jane Doe, but based on the time and date, it checks out.”

“Get on with it,” I urge, although I’m not certain I want to know anymore.

“The results were inconclusive. Based on the physical evidence, it was determined that you were sexually assaulted, you tested positive for sexual assault, and you had all the physical symptoms of it.”

“Okay,” I say carefully.

“With the exception of one very critical component…”