Page 1 of The Hardest Hit
1
Olivia Rose West
Olivia West stared at the door of the hospital exam room and tried to decide what to do if the cops didn’t get a warrant.
“Are you sure?” asked the doctor, perusing Olivia’s test results.
Olivia West looked up at him from her spot on the crinkly paper. It had seemed safe to leave her purse, phone, and jacket in Glen’s apartment while they went to his neighbor’s Halloween party. If they left her purse in the possession of Glen, what would she do? Glen had tried to rape her. And the cops thought that she should just, what? Leave the keys to her entire life with him?
“Am I sure about what?” she asked the doctor. She knew her Georgia accent made people here think she was stupid, but the doctor’s aura of condescension seemed beyond even what she was used to.
“Well, I mean, it is easy to be mistaken about these kinds of things. Maybe you saw something, you didn’t really see?”
“Excuse me?”
“I’m just saying the results from your blood test are so minimal that it could be a false positive.”
“Yes,” said the nurse, looking as though she was barely holding her temper, “because she made herself puke on the instruction of the 911 operator. The test of the glass showed it was enough to knock out someone three times her weight. See?” The nurse flipped the page in the doctor’s chart and pointed forcefully.
“Oh. Right. Well. As I said, the results are minimal, so you’re going to be fine and there shouldn’t be any after-effects.”
“The cops said I need to submit the test results,” said Olivia. “Can I have two copies please?”
“Sure,” said the doctor. “The nurses at the desk can take care of that.”
He turned and left without saying goodbye.
Olivia stared at the nurse. “I’ll make sure they’re waiting for you at the desk,” said the nurse. “You go ahead and get dressed. I love your costume, by the way.”
“Thanks,” said Olivia, already beginning to pull off the medical gown.
Being a comic book character for Halloween had seemed like such a good idea. She knew she looked amazing in her Dark Phoenix costume, but she hadn’t counted on having to get her arm out of the lycra bodysuit for blood tests to prove that her date had tried to put a roofie in her drink.
She pulled the top half of her suit back on and zipped herself up, trying to figure out how to handle the cops. Her only ally was the nice guy who’d come sprinting across the party to yank the drink out of her hand. Evan, last name not specified, had dialed 911. He’d gotten her into the bathroom and when Glen had tried to put up a fuss, Evan had called him afucking rapistand punched him in the face. Something she would have appreciated more if she hadn’t been trying to force herself to puke up half a cocktail. Then, Evan had gotten the glass and cocktail put into a plastic bag for testing. He’d even driven her to the hospital when she didn’t want to ride in the ambulance. But while Evan might be the bright spot in her evening, what could he do about the cops?
Taking a deep breath, she went out to the lobby. There was now only one cop, and Evan was staring at him, arms folded across his chest. Evan was wearing a suit. If it was a costume, then he was dressed as an investment banker. A good-looking, six-foot-two investment banker in an expensive suit. She didn’t think it was a costume.
“Hi,” said Olivia, approaching the pair.
“Hi,” said Evan, his face stretching into a smile that even she could tell was fake. “Good news. Officer James has gone to collect the warrant. Officer Sanchez is going to go wait for it outside Glen’s apartment.”
“Oh, thank God,” said Olivia, relief sweeping over her. “Thank you so much,” she said. She reached out and touched Officer Sanchez on the arm. Officer Sanchez’s face flashed with expression Olivia didn’t quite catch, but then he seemed to straighten up.
“Of course. Just doing my job. You can wait at the police station while we collect your things.”
“At the police station?” repeated Olivia, doubtful. This was going down as the worst night of her life, or at minimum the worst night she’d had since arriving in this city.
“No,” said Evan, his voice hard. “She is not a criminal. She will wait at my place. I’m in the same building, number 803.”
“OK,” agreed the cop, barely looking up at Evan. “I’ll go now.”
“Great,” said Evan.
Olivia considered herself socially slow. Not stupid. Just slow. She could never recognize things in the moment they happened, so it wasn’t until Officer Sanchez was walking away that she realized his look had been the same expression as the hound dog who stole her grandmother’s pie off a windowsill.Hangdogdidn’t begin to express the amount of guilt on Officer Sanchez’s face. But why? What had he done?
“I’ll go get the car,” said Evan. “You wait here.”
Olivia found herself nodding out of habit, but paused to question the decision as Evan left the lobby. Did she want to wait here? She decided that shedidwant to wait. She wanted someone to bring her a car and take care of her. She was feeling particularly genteel and not at all interested in doing things for herself at the moment.
