Page 1 of Contention

Chapter 1

When she wakes, everything is blurred and her jaw aches. Aches, like she’s been clenching it for hours on end and her throat feels scratchy and sore. Kara blinks slowly and lies there, trying to catalogue her body and where she is.

Thewhyof it all is eluding her. She’s not home and she’s not in her bed. The room smells of chemicals and everything is painfully bright, invasive.

Distantly, she hears someone say, “She’s waking up.”

They sound so far away, like they’re underwater.

Someone is leaning over her, from the side of the bed, invading her space. She winces, shutting her eyes tight. Why does her head hurt? The person speaks, the acidic scent of energy drink on their breath. “Miss Hayes? Can you hear me?”

Kara tries to reply, but her voice comes out a croak. Surprised, her eyes fly open again and she tries to clear her throat roughly. The sensation in her esophagus is not unlike having tonsillitis. It burns, feels tight and swollen. “I-ahem. It’s just Kara. Where am I?”

It’s uncomfortable to speak and there’s a suspicious stinging sensation in her lower lip. When her sight finally focuses, she sees two people in suits standing nearby, looking at her with serious faces. A man and woman; their uptight demeanor screams cop to Kara.

“You’re at the hospital. You’ve had an accident.” The man is closest to her. Early thirties with an exhausted look in his eyes. His hair looks like it needs a good taming and the scruff on his chin gives him a more rugged appearance.

The woman is pushing fifty, standing by the door, a certain scowl hovering about her face.

Kara groans, feeling her lip pull uncomfortably at all movements of her mouth. Like stitches being pulled too tight. She takes a moment to consider, lying in this bed that isn’t hers. “What accident? Are you cops?”

“We’re detectives at the local precinct,” the female detective states carefully. “We were actually hoping you could tell us what you remember. I’m Detective Collins and my partner is Detective Wellis.”

Well, that confirms that. Cops and a hospital bed; what the hell did Kara get herself into?

Sitting up, Kara doesn’t feel any other pain in her body. Nothing feels broken. She tests moving her fingers and toes and all seem to be fine. She stares at the two people looking at her with disconcerting intensity. Her mind is empty of all reason and explanation, a blur. She remembers being at a club with Bianca, but… “I’m drawing a blank. I don’t recall how I got here or why I would be here at all. I think…I was out with a friend.”

The male detective, Wellis, gives his partner a look. His expression is uncomfortable. “Miss Hayes-”

Ugh. Why is he so formal? Obviously, he knows what her name is. Kara has no doubt that the pair raided her purse for identification while she was out of it.

“It’s pronounced ‘care-uh’,” Kara rasps.

“Sorry, force of habit.” He doesn’t look sorry. “Kara. One of the girls on the row called for us. Said you’d been a little roughed up by one of the usual suspects. You were passing out cold and she didn’t want you to be alone on the street. We’re lucky she was brave enough to call.”

The female detective, Collins, adds, “This isn’t the first time this has happened on that street. I know this is hard to hear, but the doctor mentioned signs of oral distress. We need you to tell us everything you recall; any small detail helps. Please, take your time.”

Oral distress? What the hell is that code for? Assault?

Kara sits up straight, hands fisting the sheets. The words can’t apply to her; it’s like hearing a foreign language. She can see their mouths moving, but the words don’t make sense. This must be a bad dream. “Are you saying I wasassaulted? I was out with a girlfriend at a club, I have no idea what this is about, but it’s a mistake. Maybe I got tipsy and fell down some stairs; I’m clumsy, is that a crime?”

Apparently, something she said isn’t quite what they are looking for. Detective Wellis’s dark eyes harden briefly and his body shifts, shoulders squaring up. Ah. Definitely not happy with something Kara said. “There’s no need to be difficult. You don’t have to lie to us; we’re on your side.”

Something red and sharp spikes in Kara’s chest, but she pushes it down. She’s gained better control of her temper these days, but it’s still there; anger always floats in her veins alongside her blood.

It’s hard to keep the indignation out of her tone. “I’m not being difficult. I just don’t know what you’re talking about. You’ve got the wrong girl.” Her words come out bitingly and she can taste copper on her tongue. “I’ve got a split lip. There’s no cause for hospitalization. Or a witch hunt.”

Both detectives seem generally unmoved by her barely leashed hostility. “Well, girls like you generally don’t make this easy, even when wearetrying to help,” Detective Collins says dryly, disdain in her eyes.

That strikes a strange chord in Kara. Something she didn’t catch, her mind still sluggish...from what? Drugs? Certainly not alcohol. She’s been better; she doesn’t fall into the bottle like she once did. “Girls like me? What the hell is that about?”

Detective Wellis gives her a hard look. “Look. I’m not going to book you for prostitution. Not with what you’ve been through tonight. We just want to nail whoever did this. We’ve had a few working girls get roughed up, but none want to testify against…well, anyone. Most of them are saying it’s what they were paid to do and have no interest even speaking to a sketch artist.”

Prostitution? Pull the other!

A bark of laughter almost tears out of Kara’s throat, bitter and disbelieving. She holds it in, not wanting to irritate her throat more. “I’m sorry.” Kara licks her split lip, wincing, the copper taste earthy and raw. God, this is a fucking laugh. “Are you insinuating that you think I’m a hooker?”

Her response seems to throw him off, his brown eyes examining her closely. “As I said. I won’t book you. I don’t care about that. But you were on a street known for solicitation after hours. Dressed to party with a few bills falling out of your purse. You were out cold. One of the girls called for help because you were unresponsive. She was worried. Tell me, what’s that supposed to make us think?”

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