Chapter 2 - The ER Protocols
The fluorescent lights of the emergency room were blinding. I sat on a plastic chair in Trauma Room 3, watching the attending physician gently document every injury on Sarah’s body. Three cracked ribs. A fractured orbital bone. Severe lacerations on her back from being thrown into a glass coffee table.
My hands shook, not from fear, but from the sheer, unadulterated adrenaline of wanting to tear Mark apart with my bare hands.
"He's going to say I fell," Sarah rasped through swollen lips. "He always says I'm clumsy. His family will back him up. They hate me, Elena."
"It doesn't matter what his family says," I told her, taking her unbroken hand in mine. "I am a detective. I know exactly how to build an airtight case. He left his DNA under your fingernails when you fought back. He left his fingerprints on your throat. The physical evidence is undeniable."
A nurse handed me a cup of terrible hospital coffee. I took it without tasting it.
May you like
"What if he makes bail?" Sarah whispered, terror flashing in her one good eye. "He has so much money, Elena. He’ll hire the best defense attorney in the state. He promised me that if I ever called the cops, he would kill me."
"If he makes bail, you are coming home with me," I promised fiercely. "My apartment is a fortress. And I sleep with a loaded Glock on my nightstand. He is never touching you again."
