Page 99 of How You See Me
She shakes her head, barely a whisper of a motion, and clutches at my neck, her entire body trembling.
“Okay. It’s over. I’ve got you.”
As I lower to the bench, she curls against me, burying her face. The smell of dirt clings to her, and I tighten my hold, shielding her from everything I couldn’t stop soon enough.
Emergency vehicles soon swarm the scene, a blur of bodies, voices, and swirling light. It doesn’t take long for one of the deputies, a tall man with a wide stride, to approach us.
“I hear you were the one who dropped those three,” he says to me, a thick Oklahoma accent drawing out every word.
“Yeah.” My voice is gravel. “They deserved worse.”
“Your restraint is admirable. Those hoodlums have been robbing tourists for months. They don’t usually assault their victims, preferring to be elusive little cowards and getting away quickly with money and valuables. But they picked on the wrong victim tonight.” He nods toward the paramedic behind him, holding a bag of supplies. “Mind if she checks you both while I take your statement?”
“Fine,” I agree since I’m not letting Josie out of my sight.
The paramedic coaxes her to sit beside me, wrapping a blanket around her. Josie leans into me immediately, her fingers clenching my sleeve as if I might vanish if she lets go.
“Thank you. Can you tell me what you saw when you arrived?” The deputy scribbles in his notepad while I recount the scene and my response. It’s not helping bring down my blood pressure or Josie recover.
“Ex-military?” He points the pen at my dog tags.
“Active. Staff Sergeant. Marine Corps.”
He whistles low. “Explains a lot. Where are you stationed?”
“Quantico, Virginia.”
“You’re a long way from home. What brings you this far west, Staff Sergeant?”
“Road trip to Las Vegas.”
He huffs out his amusement. “Getting married?”
Josie lifts her head just enough to flash me a wavering grin, piecing my battered heart back together.
“Not this trip,” I manage, brushing a kiss to her hair. “She has an art show there.”
“That’s cool,” the paramedic chimes in, pulling a roll of medical tape and gauze from her bag. “You must be pretty good to get a Vegas show.”
“She’s amazing,” I answer without thinking, and Josie squeezes my arm.
“You lucked out with this one,” the paramedic says as she secures a bandage over the cut on Josie’s elbow. “He’s your hero tonight.”
A shaky breath leaves Josie’s body, like the tension finally releases. She shakes her head. “He’s my hero every day.”
“I need a statement from you, Miss Jones,” the deputy says, saving me from trying to respond to Josie’s comment. There are no sufficient words. “Can you tell me what happened, or do you want to come to the station tomorrow when you’re feeling better?”
“I’ll do it now,” she says, her voice raw but steady. “Then, I want to forget this ever happened.” She reaches for my hand. “I’d walked away from our campsite to get a photo of the full moon.”
“For a painting?” the paramedic asks as she takes my blood pressure, visibly excited.
“Yes. I didn’t realize how far I’d gone to get the shot until I turned to go back. I was lost and didn’t have myphone. When I came to this area, I waited, hoping to run into someone who could help.” She swallows hard. “They were the first to appear, and when I realized what they were planning, I tried to get away. They grabbed at my bag and I clung to it, yanking me off my feet. I guess I hit my head. I don’t know what happened after that.”
“Do you feel bruising or soreness anywhere other than the obvious?”
“They didn’t mean to hurt me,” she says, cutting through the implied questions in the deputy’s tone.
And she’s too good to see the vile nature of dirtbags like that.
