Hostile Witness (Sanctuary, Inc. #1)

Chapter 24

24

T ia wrapped the royal-blue cashmere sweater tight like a hug and turned her face to the warm sun. Who were those men waiting by her car? Was her uncle all right? They had to speak with her down at the station. She should leave her car here. She floated into the back seat of the police cruiser.

The precinct loomed like a dark castle, the inside full of somber faces and quiet whispers. No, she didn’t want coffee or a lawyer. Was Carson all right? How could she not know? What had she seen?

That interrogator in a room. Yes, she wanted a lawyer. Where were her car keys? And Brent was so angry, waiting for her at home, and screaming at her. She had to go with him. No, no, she didn’t. Where was he on Saturday the seventh between 7:00 p.m. and 11:00 p.m.? Was he in trouble?

Brent dragging her to his car. He’d drive. His ranting and raving on Route 301, careening around slow-moving farm equipment. The blur of closed fruit and vegetable stands waiting for summer. His eyes in the rearview mirror pleading with her to understand.

Tia bolted upright on a gasp with her chest fluttering like frightened prey. Grabbing a rosebud-covered pillow, she rocked back and forth on the bed. It was just the dream. She’d survive. It wasn’t real. Not this time.

Would her subconscious never forget the vivid details? Tia ran both hands through her hair. Dammit. She hadn’t had the nightmare in six months. Why did her subconscious insist on reliving that horrible event at night?

It would fade with time. But right now? She remembered everything. The red light. The black semi swerving into a jackknife, always in slow motion. Their car spinning out of control, flipping, bouncing, and the thud of glass and metal. How her head had hit the roof and the floor over and over again. There was that hideous scraping when it had screeched to a stop, and she couldn’t move. She’d slept and had woken searching for air, as if swimming to the surface of a pond.

She’d never forget how the firefighters had apologized for hurting her, and the other firefighter asking her to stay with him. They’d get her out. They promised. And then, there was the unbearable burning in her chest, and equipment resembling oversize garden shears.

Oh, how the sleep had tugged at her eyelids. There were people yelling and running and a ferocious wind that morphed into a helicopter.

She still couldn’t process that Brent had turned out to be a dirty cop. How was she supposed to know? They’d dated for several years but in reality only spent weekends together, and she had no idea where he’d been on such and such a date at a particular time. All she knew was he always showed up with a smile and flowers, every week without fail. And she’d believed everything he’d said until that day.

Tia choked out a bitter laugh. It still hurt that during the interrogation, she’d just known that Carson was behind the two- way glass. He’d had to be there that night because Brent was a dirty cop in his precinct, and his niece’s betrothed.

They’d promised not to prosecute her if she told them what she knew, but she didn’t know a damn thing. That was the kicker. How gullible was she to not know anything? How many times had Brent lied to her? She’d never know the answer.

There were no feelings left for her former fiancé. They’d died the minute he’d thrown her into his car, forever changing her life. The selfish bastard hadn’t been there to help her handle the police interviews, the surgeries, the trauma, the scar that ran the length of her torso, and the relentless questions from the press. Thank goodness for her mother and Yolanda and Mo.

Tia glanced at the self-defense certificates on her wall. She was prepared if there was a next time.

She and Mo had briefly discussed Brent earlier. Maybe that was why the memories had resurfaced in a dream? She’d worked so hard with this new kick-ass therapist and had gotten very good at replacing negative thoughts with positive, powerful affirmations. Tia grabbed her phone and texted Mo.

We can’t discuss the B person ever again. Had the nightmare. xo

Mo texted back a minute later.

I’m so sorry. I’m up now and packing. I’ll be there in a few hours.

Tia shook her head and forced her trembling fingers to move.

No. I can handle it. Stay there. If I need you, I’ll call. Go back to sleep.

Tia crawled out of bed, forcing herself to stand on shaky knees. Still holding the pillow for comfort, she let the night-light guide her as she hobbled to the bathroom and started the shower. The crash injuries hurt like hell after every nightmare, almost as if the event had just happened. But experience had taught her that the aches would subside as she moved. The hardest part was shaking off the aura of foreboding, but light always helped.

Lamp by lamp, she illuminated the house, flooding it with brightness. She glanced out the kitchen window and flipped the outdoor lights on, including the front porch duo. It was three forty-five a.m. for heaven’s sake. But after trembling in a steaming hot twenty-minute shower to warm up and then brewing a pot of coffee, Tia sat down at the kitchen table to read.

There’d be no going back to bed. Not after that.