Page 5 of Isabelle & Jason
She closed her eyes, shutting them against her own mortification. He’d been the only one to give her a drink.
“Your test results came back positive for flunitrazepam. A common name for this drug is Rohypnol. Like other benzodiazepines, it produces a sedative-hypnotic effect in the body…” His voice droned on, but Isabelle couldn’t bring herself to listen to the rest. She knew what Rohypnol was capable of doing—and the intentions of those who spiked drinks with the substance.
She closed her eyes and the first tears spilled down her cheeks. They dragged slowly at first, but the more she produced, the easier it was to feel them until they dripped off the edge of her jaw.
“Is there anyone we can call?”
Her eyes flew open at the quiet voice beside her. She glanced over at the nurse. “You haven’t called anyone?”
Relief.
Pure and unyielding, the emotion washed over her. She couldn’t let anyone know what had happened—how she’d been so stupid to allow a man who was nearly a stranger drug her.
The nurse glanced at the doctor, and she shook her head. “Your phone has been buzzing, but the doctor made the call to wait until you woke before contacting anyone.”
Was that policy?
She dragged her eyes back to the doctor, and once again that familiarity hit her square in the chest. Had they met before? Bumped into each other in town?
“Isabelle?” the nurse inquired.
Shaking her head, Isabelle dragged the back of her hand across her cheek, then swiped under her eyes with her fingers. “No. I don’t want to call anyone.”
“Are you sure? Usually when this happens?—”
“Nothing happened.” Her voice was as tight as her resolve. “You said that the person who brought me here stopped… him… before anything happened?”
Dr. Klein’s brows pinched, his frown deepening. “Well, we can’t be sure. Unfortunately, anything is possible.”
She scowled at him.
“Ma’am, I’d be remiss if I didn’t suggest we do a rape kit.”
Isabelle’s stomach dropped. Her head swam. Those pesky spots filled her vision again, so she leaned back against the upright bed where she rested. “What?” she rasped.
“When something like this happens, it’s always recommended just in case. It will make for a stronger claim when you file charges.”
Her eyes snapped to the doctor, and she shook her head vehemently. “No.”
“Ms. Palmer?—”
“I’ll do the kit. But I’m not pressing charges. I’m not filing anything.” She couldn’t. What would her family say? What would they do? Her sisters would make a big deal about this, and her brothers… well, her brothers would go on a murderous rampage. Mateo wasn’t the kind of guy to sit back and let something like this happen to his family without retaliating.
And afterward?
Well, he’d be in prison.
“Ms. Palmer—” Dr. Klein tried again, but she shut him down.
“It’s my decision, right? It’s not like you can keep me here against my will. If I wanted to walk out right now, you couldn’t stop me.”
“Well, no, but?—”
“Then I’ll do that stupid kit just…” For her own peace of mind. That’s what it would be for. She couldn’t remember anything past Dillan bringing her a drink. Actually, most of last night was covered with a thick kind of fog. She couldn’t remember much besides Dillan. Was that normal? Or was her brain trying to help her cope?
She lifted her tear-filled eyes to the doctor, then glanced at the nurse. “The kit. That’s all. I don’t want to do anything else.”
The nurse looked toward the doctor, who nodded. Then she rose and left the room.
