Page 86 of Edge of Heaven

There’s a black and blue mark forming around one eye and her lips are swollen, with a deep cut on one side, but it’s the bruises on her neck that almost make me lose control.

“I came straight here from the airport—what happened?”

“Detectives Ortiz and O’Shaunessy.” One of the two detectives standing outside the room approaches me. “Who are you?”

“Michael Lipson.” I turn to him accusingly. “Did you get the guy who did this? Callum Yates?”

The guy starts writing something on his pad.

“Who is Callum Yates?” he asks.

“Mick!” Taryn’s voice is hoarse but undeniably angry. “Mick, stop!”

“He’s not going to get away with this, Taryn. Over my dead body.”

“It’s fine! I’m fine.”

“Callum Yates, from Karnal Death?” The other detective narrows her eyes.

“That’s him.”

“Mick!” Taryn calls to me again, but I ignore her.

“This has been going on for a while, escalating. Her son is sick, and Callum is paying for the treatment, so she doesn’t want to get him in trouble. But this has to stop. He’s never gotten this physical before.”

“And what’s your relationship to Ms. Blakely?”

“I’m her…friend.”

Detective O’Shaunessy gives me a curious look. “Do you have any idea why Mr. Yates would attack her like this?”

“No, but he gets mean when he’s drunk or high. We’ve seen him get physical with her before, but it’s always been grabbing her arm, stuff like that. There was a bruise in the shape of a hand on her thigh a month or so ago.”

“Ms. Blakely, we understand you’re afraid,” Detective Ortiz is a woman, and her voice is gentle as she speaks to Taryn. “But we can protect you.”

Taryn gives me a death glare. “I said I was fine. I’m not pressing charges.”

“Taryn!” Callum’s voice echoes through the hallway and Taryn visibly finches.

“That’s him,” I say gruffly.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” Callum snarls at me. His eyes are bloodshot, hair sticking up on one side of his head. He seems sweaty, the armpits of his T-shirt stained, and he stomps in my direction.

“Mr. Yates.” Detective O’Shaunessy cuts him off. “We’d like to talk to you.”

“Taryn!” he yells at her, but the detectives are blocking his way.

“What’s your relationship to Ms. Blakely?”

“She’s my girl—unlike this guy!” He flicks a thumb in my direction. “He has no business here. I want him gone.”

“Mr. Yates, this is about you and Ms. Blakely. Do you know how your girlfriend got three broken ribs, a twisted ankle, and multiple cuts and contusions on her face?”

“What did she say?” he demands. Then he whirls on Taryn. “You stupid cunt! What did you tell them, you fucking coke whore?!”

He lunges in her direction, but Detective O’Shaunessy stops him.

“Mr. Yates. You need to calm down or we’ll restrain you.”

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