Total pages in book: 187
Estimated words: 174623 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 873(@200wpm)___ 698(@250wpm)___ 582(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 174623 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 873(@200wpm)___ 698(@250wpm)___ 582(@300wpm)
"He didn't," I say, looking over at the kit.
"We won't use all of the kit," she explains as she rolls a stool over before taking a seat. "It just has all the other things I need. I'll swab your arms, face, neck, and hands. I'll get fingernail clippings and swab under them as well. If at any time you're uncomfortable or need a break, just let me know."
"Okay."
"May I ask you questions about the attack?"
"Yes," I tell her, wishing Nyx was standing beside me right now.
"May I record our conversation?"
I nod, watching as she pulls a small recorder from her pocket.
"Ready?"
I nod again.
She presses a button on the recorder.
"SANE Rachel Evans. I'm working with SAECK TN 26-006524. Patient is Juliet Mercer. Patient has agreed to answer questions, but has been advised she can stop at any time. Do you agree, Ms. Mercer?"
"Yes."
"Do you know who attacked you tonight?" she asks as she opens the kit, pulling out a pair of sterile gloves and putting them on before reaching into the kit once again.
"My ex-husband, Graham Whitmore."
I watch as she pulls out a series of swabs.
"Do you know why he attacked you?"
"I-I think he wanted to kill me," I whisper.
She lifts my right hand, swabs the back of it, and inserts the swab into another tube before grabbing another tube for my other hand.
"Does he have a history of violence?"
"Yes," I answer, not bothering to explain that he only hurt me once.
"Has he hurt others in front of you?"
"Yes. He stabbed Kayla in front of me tonight."
"Do you know the extent of her injuries?" Rachel asks.
"Sh-she's dead," I whisper, tears streaking my eyes.
"You witnessed her murder tonight?" she asks as she looks up at me, a sadness in her eyes as if she hates asking the question as much as I hate being asked.
"Yes," I tell her as she takes another swab and rubs it on my forearm.
She packages the swabs, changes gloves, and pulls out a nail stick.
"Any personal injuries you have concerns about tonight, Juliet?"
"No," I tell her honestly.
She's silent as she scrapes under each one of my fingernails, collecting the blood and debris on a napkin before inserting it into an envelope and sealing it, writing her name, the date, and the time of collection on it.
"You have a minor cut on your neck," Rachel says. "It has been cleaned and bandaged."
"It has," I say.
"You said earlier that you don't know if you have any other injuries. Can I check you over and make sure?"
"Yes," I tell her.
"I'm going to start on your arms."
I hold one arm out as she checks it, pulling the sleeve of the gown up as high as it can go.
I cooperate as best I can as she checks my arms, palpates my abdomen, looks over my legs, hips, and thighs.
She's gentle and patient, not commenting on the way I'm being scrutinized as I tremble under her touch.
"Do you have any other concerns?"
I shake my head. "No."
"Okay, Juliet." She reaches for the tape recorder and hits a button to stop recording. "Do you have any questions?"
I shake my head.
"You're free to get dressed," she says. "I want to give you some information on victimization and domestic abuse."
"I know it word for word," I tell her. "I work at Juniper House."
She nods, giving me a soft smile.
"If you need anything else, don't hesitate to give us a call. Ask for me personally if you feel more comfortable doing so."
"Thank you," I tell her, waiting for her to gather all the evidence bags and leave before getting off the bed, stripping out of the gown and putting the t-shirt and sweats on.
The slippers feel non-existent on my feet, but I know I won't have to wear them long.
I have to pull in several fortifying breaths before I build enough courage to pull back the curtain, unsure of who I'll be facing on the other side.
I know Graham is more than likely still here, and he's the last person I want to see.
I search the large area. Each of the curtains is pulled closed, only the soft murmur of words drifting from behind some, the voices so low that patient privacy is maintained.
My eyes land on Emmalyn, and she spots me about the same time, pushing off the wall she was leaning on. She approaches, a soft sadness in her eyes.
"Honey," she says as she takes a spot in front of me.
"Nyx," I whisper, grateful she doesn't reach out to touch me.
I'm not saying I would never welcome the woman's hug, but after tonight, being touched by anyone other than him is something I won't be able to process.
"He's out front waiting for you," she says. "I'll go down with you."
We're silent as we walk toward the elevator, two Cerberus men joining us but keeping space between us.