13. Chapter 13

Chapter 13

Kayla

I never should have left Kansas City! I curse myself as I speed down the highway and crawl through city traffic. It's seven in the morning, and even though it's Saturday, it feels like everyone in the damned town has somewhere to be.

God, I hope Amy called the police. I can't imagine what would happen if Craig came back and she was still home alone. Nothing good, that's for sure.

I slam my fist into the wheel. Why didn't I try harder to talk her out of this relationship? The man was a walking red flag from the beginning, but Amy didn't see it. She was happy for his attention, starved for affection, since her own family didn't offer her any.

"It's all my fucking fault," I mutter. "All my fault."

Of course, a rational part of my mind knows I did all I could. That Amy's an adult and I simply can't make decisions for her. But that part is silenced by the immense guilt. Guilt that multiplies when Amy answers her door and my eyes land on her bruised face.

She's alone and has a blood-stained towel wrapped around her head. Not only did she not go to the hospital, but she didn't call the police either. I love her like a sister, but right now, all I want to do is shake her. I don't, though. Swallowing my chastising speech, I pull Amy into a hug. She bursts into tears in my arms.

Hours later, I still haven't convinced her to call the police, but at least I managed to drag her to a hospital to get her head checked up. She doesn't have a concussion, thank god, but the wound requires several stitches.

I exchange a helpless glance with the doctor when Amy keeps repeating she "fell down the stairs." He knows as well as I do what caused Amy's injuries and that, while Amy did probably hit her head on something, she didn't simply fall on her own. But neither of us can do anything until Amy speaks up.

The locksmith I called before taking Amy to the hospital is just finishing his work when we get back. It's funny how all I seem to do lately is worry about a break-in. I made sure that Amy has the same high-quality locks as I do and agreed to pay the guy a ludicrous extra fee to do the job today instead of on Monday.

Knowing Craig can't simply unlock the door and walk in makes me feel slightly more at ease. He has never liked me, and I shudder at imagining what he'd do if he found me here. He's a linebacker, and he's got the build to prove it. Neither Amy nor I would be a match for him.

Amy is drowsy from the painkillers, so I let her sleep. I try to busy myself with the case files I brought over, but after two sleepless nights, my eyes won't stay open. When I jerk awake and realize I've fallen asleep with my forehead on the table, I give up and go join Amy in the bed.

I have a sister, but Amy has always been the person closest to me. I can't even count the number of times we slept in one bed when one of us was distressed. Mostly, it was Amy sleeping in my bed, since her mom was a junkie and their place was a mess.

Since we've done this a million times before, I have no qualms about sliding under the covers and spooning her curled-up form. "Shh, it's okay," I soothe, feeling her body twitch with suppressed sobs. "You're safe now, Ames."

"I-I don't know what to do," she admits, hiccuping as a sob breaks free. "Craig loves me. I know he isn't good for me, but…who else will be there, Kay? I don't want to end up alone."

"You aren't alone. I will always be here. I'll come back to Kansas City and move in with you."

Amy turns to glare at me. "You absolutely will not. You've got a shiny new career and a house! Don't give that up for trash like me."

I smack her shoulder. "Don't talk like that. I don't have anything. I told you, the house isn't mine, and I just started at the new department. I can easily transfer back here."

"But you won't. Please, Kay. Don't ruin your life because I'm an idiot. I won't—" She sniffles. "I won't go back to him. You're right, he's no good, but…I just… He's always been so nice and attentive, and I felt like…like I mattered. Like I mattered, Kayla. I've never mattered to a guy before."

I sigh. "I know what you mean, sis. I felt like this with Nick, too. Like I mattered to someone. Then it turned out, I didn't."

"At least he never hurt you. Or locked you in the bedroom. Or…never mind. You picked better than I did. God, I'm so stupid!" She breaks down in tears again, and I just hold her and let her cry. She's finally accepting the truth. Now I just have to keep Craig away from her so he doesn't lure her back into his clutches with sweet words and empty promises. Though, how I will do that when I'm not around is beyond me.

We sleep through the night, Amy keeping me nicely warm even though I don't have my thick blanket and night socks. Who needs men? Having a best friend is much better than having some dumb guy, isn't it?

The sound of the doorbell wakes us up. I squeeze Amy's shoulder. "Stay here. I'll deal with him."

She gives a jerky nod, pulling the blanket up to her chin and eyeing me nervously as I leave the bedroom. I pull on some pants and a sweater, determined not to show an inch of skin to that bastard. From my purse, I pull out my pepper spray, clutching it tightly as I approach the door.

The doorbell chimes again, but there's no angry pounding. Has Craig switched into an apologetic mode already? Is he waiting behind the door with a bouquet and a fake apology? Well, he's in for quite a surprise.

I fling the door open. "Listen, you…!" The shout dies in my throat as I take in the woman standing in front of me, my breath catching as I notice her badge. I stare at her with my mouth agape. Has Amy called the police, after all? "Um, yes?"

"Ms. Hudges?" the woman asks.

"Uh, no. I'm Kayla Reynolds. I'm staying with Amy for a little while. Is there a problem?"

"I'm Detective Brown, and I need to speak with Ms. Hudges. Is she here?"

Only as I raise my hand to rub my forehead do I realize I'm still holding the pepper spray and hastily put it away. "Yes, she's—"

"I'm here," Amy says from the bedroom doorway, her voice shaky. "Is there a problem?"

Brown does her best to maintain a professional expression, but I see her homing in on Amy's bruises. "I'm afraid so, Ms. Hudges," she says. "May I come inside?"

"Of course."

Since Amy looks like she's about to faint, I maneuver her into a chair. "Please, sit down, Detective," I tell Brown. "Can you tell us what's going on?"

Brown sighs a little as she sits down. "Ms. Hudges, you're listed as an emergency contact for Mr. Craig Denver. Is that correct?"

"Y-yes," Amy whispers. "Is he…did something happen to him?" I squeeze her shoulder for support. Craig might be a world-class bastard, but he and Amy were together for a year, and despite everything, she still loves him.

Brown's expression turns solemn. "Ms. Hudges, there has been an incident involving your boyfriend. I'm sorry to inform you, but he passed away. I know that this is difficult, but—"

"What?!" Amy gasps. "But…no, that's not true! I…oh my god, this is all my fault."

I'm stunned by the news myself, but I manage to push through the daze. Gripping Amy's shoulders, I crouch beside her. "Ames. Amy! This isn't your fault."

"Of course it is! I—I was so angry, Kayla. I—I wanted him dead," she whispers fearfully. "Even before this"—she gestures at her bruises—"I sometimes wished…I wished he never came back. But I never wanted him actually dead!" she adds, turning to Detective Brown. "You have to believe me!"

I pull her into a hug. "Amy, they won't arrest you for wishing the man who abused you for months dead. What happened?" I ask the detective, holding Amy's sobbing form in my arms. "How did he die?"

"It seems it was a drug deal gone wrong," Brown says, her gaze turning thoughtful. "Ms. Hudges, may I ask where were you yesterday around five p.m.?"

"In a hospital," I answer in Amy's stead. "Getting an MRI to make sure Craig Denver didn't give her a concussion when he beat her. I'm sure the doctors there will confirm it," I add in a clipped tone. I know Brown has to ask that question, that it's protocol, but it still irks me to no end.

Nodding slowly, the detective scribbles down a note into her tiny notebook. "I'm sure they will."

"It makes no sense," Amy whispers, wiping her tears away with the back of her hand. "Craig never did drugs. He was a professional football player. He wouldn't risk a suspension just to get high."

"Well, the medical examiner discovered traces of drugs in his system, and he was killed in the part of the town people rarely visit unless they're looking to buy something," Brown replies. "But we will definitely look into it further and keep you informed."

"You don't have to," I say. "I think Amy doesn't need to hear more about that man." At her accusatory look, I shrug. "What, Ames? Sorry to be blunt, but you're better off. At least now you don't have to worry about him coming back." I immediately regret my harsh words when she bursts into tears again and sprints out of the room. Dammit, I'm such an idiot.

Detective Brown sighs as she stands up. "That wasn't exactly diplomatic," she quips.

"Yeah, it wasn't," I admit. "I'm just so fucking glad he won't be touching her again. I mean…" I hesitate, realizing that saying such things to a homicide detective probably isn't the brightest idea ever. "I have an alibi, too," I add quickly. "I was in the hospital with Amy."

With a chuckle, Brown heads for the door. "You're not a suspect, Ms. Reynolds. Neither is Ms. Hudges. Craig Denver was killed by someone with great physical strength and agility, most likely a tall, strong man. You're neither. And…I'm saying this as a woman, not as a police officer, but you're allowed to be grateful that the man who abused your friend is dead."

"Thanks. I know you have to investigate his murder, but…let's just say that the world is better without Craig in it."

"That might be true," Brown agrees, "but his death also means there's a dangerous killer on the loose. I have to stop him before he hurts someone else." She produces a card from her pocket and offers it to me. "Call me if you or Ms. Hudges think of anything that might be helpful."

I slide the card into my pocket, already knowing I won't even show it to Amy. She's been through enough. She doesn't need the added weight of being pulled into a murder investigation.