Seduced By The Hero. Pamela Yaye

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СКАЧАТЬ be very proud of yourself. Few people would have been able to fight the way you did, and I’m blown away by your courage.

      “You shouldn’t have been on your cell phone. That was your first mistake.”

      Her head whipped up, and her eyes narrowed. She felt her blood pressure rise, with the urge to smack Detective Sluggs upside his lumpy bald head. Orange wasn’t the new black, and since Dionne didn’t want to be arrested for assaulting a cop, she wisely kept her hands in her lap. “Are you saying the attack was my fault? That I’m to blame for what happened?”

      Detective Sluggs made a sympathetic face, but his gaze was dark, and his voice was filled with accusation. “Perpetrators prowl the streets looking for people who are distracted, and you made yourself an easy target...”

      Dionne pursed her lips so she wouldn’t end up doing something stupid like cursing him out. Although she was annoyed, she gave the detective the floor to speak. And did he ever. He went on and on, spewing his opinions.

      “I suspect this was a random, drug-fueled attack, but I want to cover all the bases.” He flipped open his white spiral notebook and scanned the first page. “Mrs. Fontaine, do you have any enemies? Anyone who might want to hurt you or scare you?”

      Do I have any enemies? Yeah, the entire Fontaine family. Jules’s older sister, Adeline, had never liked her, and the feeling was definitely mutual. The executive accountant was a control freak who wasn’t happy unless she was calling the shots, and Dionne couldn’t stand her. There was no love lost between Dionne and her in-laws, but they had nothing to do with the attack. “No, no one I can think of,” she answered truthfully. “My husband and I are legally separated and in the process of getting a divorce, but Jules would never do anything to hurt me.”

      “Don’t be so sure. Divorce brings out the worst in people.”

      Desperate to change the subject, she asked, “Where’s my cell phone?”

      “We found it smashed to smithereens in the parking lot last night.”

      Disappointment flooded her body, but the loss of her iPhone was the least of her problems. Anxious to end the interview and leave the hospital, Dionne addressed her doctor. “Have my test results come back?”

      “Yes,” she said, glancing at the sheets of paper attached to a metal clipboard. “Your CT scan was normal, and you don’t seem to have any lingering effects from the concussion. But I’d like you to see the hospital psychologist before I discharge you.”

      “No, thank you. I’m fine.”

      “I strongly advise you not to leave. You suffered a traumatic event less than twenty-four hours ago, and it’s imperative you speak to a professional to discuss the attack.”

      “I concur,” Detective Sluggs said, stroking his bushy mustache with tender loving care.

      Dionne glanced from the detective to the doctor and rolled her eyes to show her frustration. They were giving her a headache, and she was anxious to get away from them. Determined to leave the hospital, whether or not the doctor signed the discharge papers, Dionne searched the room for her clothes. Her Escada pantsuit was probably ripped and dirty, but it was all she had. Besides, she wasn’t going to a black-tie event at the W hotel; she would be headed to her office. By the time she arrived at Pathways Center, her staff would be gone for the day, so she wouldn’t have to worry about anyone seeing her bruised face.

      “I have to return to the precinct, but if you remember anything else about the attack, don’t hesitate to contact me.” Detective Sluggs promised to be in touch and left the room.

      Finally. I thought he’d never leave. Dionne checked the time on the clock. Immanuel should be back any minute now. For some reason, the thought of seeing him again excited her and made a smile balloon inside her heart. He’d spent the entire afternoon with her, and talking to him about her career had momentarily taken her mind off the assault. Though he was serious and soft-spoken, he made her laugh and told amusing stories about his life in Venice. He’d offered to go to the store for her, and Dionne eagerly awaited his return, because once he arrived with the items she’d requested, she was leaving. She was tired of being in the hospital and was anxious to leave, but first she had to get Dr. Pelayo off her back. “I don’t need to talk to anyone,” she said, speaking calmly, in her most serious voice. “I have a master’s degree in psychology, and I know what to do to preserve my mental health. Now, kindly bring the discharge papers so I can sign them and leave.”

      The silence was so loud it drowned out every other noise in the room. Sunshine seeped through the window blinds, filling the drab, boring space with light, but it did nothing to brighten Dionne’s mood. She was frustrated that Dr. Pelayo wasn’t listening to her and was losing patience.

      “Very well,” the doctor said after a long moment. “If you insist.”

      “Thank you, Dr. Pelayo. I appreciate everything you and your staff have done for me.”

      “I’ll have the discharge papers waiting at the front desk within the hour. Who will be picking you up and driving you home?”

      Confusion must have shown on Dionne’s face, because Dr. Pelayo continued.

      “Someone has to pick you up upon discharge and escort you out of the building,” she explained, tucking her clipboard under her arm. “The policy was put in place decades ago to ensure that all patients at Atlanta Medical Center remain safe after their stay—”

      “I’m not a child,” Dionne argued. “And I won’t be treated like one.”

      The intercom came on, and the women fell silent.

      Sitting in bed, doing a slow burn, Dionne pictured herself jumping out her fifth-floor window and running away from the hospital. Who do I have to bribe to get the hell out of here? she wondered, trying to keep her temper at bay. And who came up with this stupid discharge policy? It’s the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard, and I won’t adhere to it.

      “I have to release you into the care of a loved one, preferably someone who can stay with you for the rest of the day.” Dr. Pelayo’s face softened with concern. “Victims often feel fearful after an attack, so it’s important you’re not alone over the next twenty-four hours. Isn’t there a friend or family member I can call to pick you up?”

      “I don’t want anyone hovering over me. I’d rather be alone.”

      “I understand, Mrs. Fontaine, and I’m not trying to be difficult, but it’s hospital policy, and if I break the rules I could lose my job.”

      Disappointed, Dionne collapsed against the pillows. Will this nightmare ever end?

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