5. Asher #2
“Of course not,” I replied, shoving my hands in my pockets.
“Sociopaths have difficulty empathizing with others, and you of course don’t have this problem.
You’re clearly very understanding of the situation surrounding Ms. Porter’s injuries.
I’m sure you realized that having a strange man ask to examine her, and then threaten to drug her into unconsciousness to do so might feel overly similar to the nightmare she’s been living the last four months.
” The tension in the room was palpable, and the man in front of me was speechless.
The glare he gave me was formidable and he stormed past me, bumping my shoulder as he passed.
“I’ll make a note in your chart,” the nurse murmured, looking suitably chagrined.
“I do need to replace your IV though, you’re not finished the last round of antibiotics yet,” she told Dahlia, who nodded quietly.
I walked over to the chair beside her bed and set my bag down underneath it before moving closer to the bed.
Dahlia’s hand was still bleeding, and I held out my hand to see it.
Dahlia looked embarrassed as she held it out to me, but I was relieved to find that she hadn’t done too much damage; she must’ve taken out the IV carefully, and not just ripped it out as the surgeon had described.
“I can’t believe you said that to him,” she told me quietly as I took the gauze the nurse held out to me and pressed it down on the wound to stop the bleeding.
“Yes, well, just try not to rip any of your stitches out, okay?” I replied, smiling ruefully.
“I don’t think he’ll be coming back anytime soon.
” A smile bloomed across her face, and it erased a little of the haunted look in her eyes.
The nurse finished replacing the IV in her other hand, and we switched positions so she could assess her damaged hand and bandage it properly.
“I didn’t mean to freak out,” she admitted, looking down at the bed.
“I just… don’t like waking up like that.
It’s a horrible feeling when the drugs wear off and you’re in a strange place, with strange people.
Knowing they’ve been touching you while you’re unconscious, doing things without asking.
..” she trailed off. The nurse patted her arm gently in a comforting manner.
“We’ll make sure that doesn’t happen again, alright?
” she told her gently. “I’ll have the doctor come by later and discuss non-sedative options for when you’re feeling anxious.
” She gave me a quick nod and retreated out of the room, closing the door softly behind her.
Dahlia was quiet for a moment, taking deep breaths like she was trying to steady herself.
I gave her a moment to collect herself before speaking up again. “Can I formally introduce you to my partner? I understand your caution with strangers, but I promise you, Hunter would never hurt you.” Dahlia nodded and I walked to the door, opening it and beckoning Hunter to come inside.
He walked in and clapped me on the shoulder, shaking his head. “What the hell did you say to that guy?” he asked me. “We saw him nearly behead someone with a clipboard after he stormed out of here.” I just shrugged, shooting a quick glance at Dahlia, who stifled a small laugh.
“Dahlia, this is Agent Hunter Graves with the FBI. He’s my partner,” I told her, and he walked toward her, shooting her his typical charming smile.
“Work partner,” he amended with a smirk, and I rolled my eyes.
As if that needed to be specified. “I’m sorry for giving you a scare this morning, I’d ordered Asher back to the hotel for a shower and I didn’t want you to wake up alone.
He was really starting to stink,” he added with a grin, and I glared at him.
Dahlia laughed, so clearly his charm was working its magic, as usual.
He had a way of getting people to drop their guard, and almost everyone warmed up to him within minutes—even the suspects we interviewed ended up liking him half the time.
“I was thinking, we might have a way to help you reduce some of the fear you’re experiencing,” I offered, walking over to my bag and rummaging through the files until I found the right one.
“You... uh, you never saw the person who did this to you, did you?” I asked, wincing at the callousness of the question.
Dahlia nodded slowly. “I never saw his face, or even heard his voice,” she replied softly. I held the file against my chest, walking over to her side.
“We have a picture of him, the man who did this. Steve Curing,” I told her, and she shivered, rubbing her hand over the bandages on her neck.
“Do you think it would help to see what he looks like?” I asked.
Hunter was hovering at the foot of her bed, watching me carefully, but not saying a word.
I probably should’ve cleared this with him first, but so much of this case was just…
reacting at this point, I just did it without thinking.
“Yes please, I’d like to see him,” she told me, and I pulled the picture we had of Curing out of the file and handed it over to her.
Her hand was shaking as she held the picture up in front of her, her eyes scanning over his face, absorbing every detail and feature.
She was quiet for several minutes, staring at the image in front of her, and I wasn’t sure what emotions were going through her head.
“His face is on every TV and newspaper in the country,” I said gently. “He can’t go anywhere without being recognized.” She finally handed me back the photo, her fist clenched in her lap, and she fought to steady herself. I tucked it back into the file and stowed it in my bag.
“What about my face?” she asked suddenly, and I frowned, not understanding.
“Your name and face hasn’t been released to the media,” Hunter replied quickly. “All anyone knows is that there was a survivor recovered.” Her face pinched, and she chewed on her lip, her hands clasped in her lap.
“I have… my friend, and my uh, my boyfriend, do they know? That I’m, uh, here?” Dahlia stammered, and I went through my mental catalog to recall their names.
“Amanda Billings and Josh Graysen,” I recited, and her face lit up.
“Once we’re on route back to Quantico, we will notify them, and they can meet us there,” I told her, glancing at Hunter for confirmation.
He nodded, his eyes full of something… was it pride?
I couldn’t tell. I shifted uncomfortably, shoving my hands back in my pockets.
“I think we can be on the move by tomorrow morning as long as you don’t rip into any more doctors,” Hunter told her with a grin, and she nodded quickly, rubbing her injured hand.
“For safety’s sake, you’ll drive back with us.
Plane travel would be quicker, but there’s too much potential for the press to find out, and we don’t want to draw any attention to you,” he explained.
“Are you comfortable sticking with us for a bit?” he asked, and I noticed that her eyes darted to me first before settling back on him. Did I make her uncomfortable?
“That’s fine,” she replied. “I don’t mind a car ride.”
Hunter smiled. “You say that now, but just wait until Asher begins his two-hour lecture on how modern agriculture is leading to the inevitable downfall of civilization.” He laughed, clapping me on the shoulder, making her laugh.
“It is though,” I insisted. “We have crops that are basically just clones of each other; one disease could wipe them off the face of the earth.” I thought it was a fascinating topic, but Hunter hadn’t been as interested when I tried to explain it to him.
“You mean like how the Gros Michel banana was wiped out?” Dahlia asked, and I nodded enthusiastically.
“Yes! Exactly! See, other people find these things interesting too.” I grinned, shooting Hunter a smug look.
Hunter just rolled his eyes and waved us away, walking toward the door.
“Ugh, I’m going to need to get some sleep if I’m going to survive a car ride with the two of you,” he announced.
“I’ll be here in the a.m. with coffees.” He shot Dahlia a smile and slipped out of the room, leaving the two of us to talk.