SEVENTEEN
HAYDEN
BOSTON
DECEMBER
I remember walking outside. I heard my name called, then nothing.
My body tenses. I didn’t know he knew her name. Across the bed, Ruby goes still while Detective Anthony writes something down fast.
“He knew your name?” Ruby asks, voice sharp. Emerald gives her a look as she writes again.
Everyone knows who I am. I’m the wicked witch in this city.
My hand twitches toward her before I catch myself. Emerald’s eyes flick to mine for half a second, then back to the detective.
“Em...” Ruby murmurs like she wants to chastise her.
Emerald shrugs a shoulder like she’s saying, it’s true.
“Could you describe his voice?” Detective Anthony asks.
Emerald frowns, squeezing her eyes closed for a moment before she writes.
Deep. Boston accent. Smoker.
Ruby meets my eyes. Needle in a haystack in this city.
Detective Anthony, though, looks more optimistic.
“Local. That’s good,” she nods, smiling at Emerald. “I think he’s hiding, not fleeing. You’d be surprised how these small details can really help an investigation. You’re doing great, Emerald. ”
Emerald’s lips curve. I pat the bed gently, and when she glances over, the smile stays. My heart stutters as it always does when she smiles at me.
“He approached you at that exit,” Detective Anthony says, reading over her notes. “Is that a common exit for you?”
“No, she usually uses one that leads right to the WAG lot,” I tell her, so Emerald doesn’t have to write it. She sends me a grateful look, then suddenly her eyes widen. I’m instantly on alert, my body tense.
“What, baby?”
My car is still there.
Ruby downs the rest of her coffee and stands.
“I’ll grab it.”
Emerald taps her chest twice, thanking her. Ruby winks, leans down, kisses her sister’s hair, and smooths a loose strand back into the braid one of the nurses must’ve done.
“Stop by the apartment first,” I tell Ruby, already pulling out my wallet. “The spare key should be in the island drawer. The code is Em’s birthday. Tell the guard you’re Emerald’s sister. Use my card if you need to call a rideshare.”
“Got it,” Ruby says, giving Emerald one last look before she heads out.
Detective Anthony waits until the door shuts behind her before clearing her throat.
“Ready to keep going?”
Emerald gives a thumbs up. Yes.
“You don’t remember what he looked like?”
Now looking frustrated, Emerald holds a thumb down. No.
“It’s okay, Em,” I whisper, trying to soothe her. She glances at me, her eyes glassy, still frustrated .
“He’s right, Emerald. You’re still recovering.”
Emerald doesn’t look convinced, but after a second, she gives a reluctant thumbs-up. Okay.
Detective Anthony looks torn for a moment, then reaches for the black tote at her feet. She sets it on her lap and pulls out two clear evidence bags, handing me the smaller one. I almost drop it when I see what’s inside.
“The hospital cut it off and gave it to us. We tried to pick up DNA on it, but the snow washed it all away.”
In the bag is the diamond from Emerald’s wedding set. My hand shakes as I stare at it, picturing it on my wife’s broken finger, the doctors cutting it off. I don’t give a fuck about the stone. All I can see is her broken fingers.
But then there’s a sound from the bed that sends every single nerve in my body on alert.
A whimper.
My eyes snap to Emerald, who’s staring in terror at the larger evidence bag. Muffled cries escape as her body shakes.
Then I see what’s inside.
The bloody jersey they cut off her.
Fierce protectiveness erupts in my chest. I grab the bag to throw it in the trash, or out of the damn window. It’s causing Emerald terror; it needs to go.
“No, get rid of that—”
Emerald makes a distressed noise, catching my attention again. She’s breathing heavily through her nose as she frantically scribbles something down on the board. Her hands shake when she holds it out for us to see.
$5,000
Detective Anthony leans in, eyes bright. “What about $5,000? ”
Eyes wild, Emerald scribbles down something else.
He said he lost $5,000
Detective Anthony looks eager, like this is something big.
Emerald looks unsure suddenly, and I lean in, keeping my voice gentle and encouraging. “What, Em?”
The jersey seems to have rattled something loose in her mind. She sighs and writes something down, looking almost reluctant to show me.
He called me a cunt. Like it was my fault.
The anger feels quiet as it moves up my spine. It wasn’t enough that he physically brutalized her, but he had to call her that while he did so. And the fact that it seems to be about money?
My blood goes cold. He lost the money because we lost the game. My fault.
A warm touch on my hand makes me jump, then settle, because I recognize it. Blinking to make sure I’m seeing what I’m seeing, Emerald has her hand over mine. It’s light, not quite a full touch, but it’s there.
My wife is touching me. Reaching for me. Warmth hits my gut like a shot of whiskey.
Not your fault, her eyes seem to say, like she knows my thoughts—she probably does. Emerald knows me best. Tears sting my eyes, but I hold them back. Not yet. Not here.
“Not yours, either,” I tell her. The game, the bullying, none of this is her fault. Slowly, I slide my other hand over Emerald’s, inviting her closer. She responds by resting her hand fully against mine.
“I had a hunch,” Detective Anthony says gently, careful not to disturb us. Emerald looks at her but keeps holding my hand.
“Sometimes a memory comes back when a victim sees something from the scene. Since we couldn’t take her back there, I brought the clothes from that night,” Detective Anthony tilts her head. “You don’t want them back, do you?”
I shake my head firmly. “No.”
“What Emerald just remembered really can narrow it down for us. Five grand isn’t just casual betting. That’s someone’s rent, their savings. Something they can’t afford to lose.”
Anger spikes at her words.
“So what?” I bark. “That makes it okay? He was stupid enough to bet away his savings, so he gets to assault her?”
Emerald squeezes my hand. Calm.
“No, Hayden,” Detective Anthony shakes her head, not even reacting to my anger spike. “But there’s only one place in this city where someone can bet on a game that high. O’Malley’s.”
I frown at the familiar name. “Isn’t that just a sports dive bar around the corner?”
"Yes," Detective Anthony nods. "Owned by Kevin Donnelly. He tried to shave points, got banned from every arena in the city, then opened O'Malley's. If you want to bet big, that's where you go."
Emerald and I share a look, a mix of excitement at the prospect of a lead, but also uncertainty about what this means. If this guy will even be caught. He could be out of the state right now, hiding somewhere.
“Emerald, did you remember an alcohol smell?”
Emerald holds a thumb down and writes.
I couldn’t smell anything but my blood.
Detective Anthony nods.
My stomach twists so hard it hurts.
“I don’t think he was at the game. I think he was sitting in O’Malley’s, getting drunk and angry. ”
I ask eagerly, “What do we do?”
Detective Anthony’s eyes snap over to mine at that.
“You do nothing,” she says. My jaw tightens, not liking that answer, but she keeps going. “Focus on Emerald healing. Ramirez and I will go to O’Malley’s.”
She’s right.
I know she’s right, but now that we have a lead, I want to do something. I want to go to that bar myself, tear through it, make people point me toward that redheaded fuck or so help me God...
My body deflates.
But that will only take me away from Emerald—from healing her enough to get her back home and safe. Looking over at my wife, her eyes seem concerned, and I just feel resolved. I won’t go searching. I won’t become a vigilante.
I won’t put anything—even seeking justice—before Emerald.
“Alright,” I nod to Detective Anthony, who looks relieved, like she was preparing me to fight her on that.
“We’re going to find him. And we’re going to put his ass in jail,” she nods confidently.
Emerald gently pulls her hand from mine so that she can pick up the board and write something.
Prison means a trial, right?
Detective Anthony’s whole face softens. “Yes, and you’d need to testify.”
Her hand shakes almost violently as she holds the board. Her eyes shimmer with tears, and the monitor beside her bed starts chirping faster.
“Not for a while,” Anthony says quickly. “Not anytime soon. ”
“It’s okay,” I whisper. I turn both hands over, palms up, offering. Emerald places her hand in mine, and I close my fingers gently around it. “It’s okay, baby.”
“I think I have enough for today. You did incredible , Emerald.”
Detective Anthony smiles, pulling a card out of her purse and placing it on the table next to Emerald’s bed. “If you need anything , call—or Emerald, text me if you need me.”
Emerald gives her a thumbs up.
“Thank you, Detective—”
“Call me Aisha,” she says, cutting me off. She gives Emerald a warm smile. “Both of you.”
“Thank you, Aisha,” I reply, genuinely thankful. “And I’m... sorry for snapping.”
“Wouldn’t be much of a husband if you didn’t,” she smirks, swinging her bag onto her shoulder, then pauses.
“We talked to hospital admin about the photo,” she says. “They’re furious. They gave us the chart-access logs, and based on the angle, I’m almost positive it wasn’t taken with a phone.”
“Then how?” I ask, bewildered.
“Camera glasses.”
I stare at her. “That exists?”
“You wouldn’t believe how many cases we have because of people wearing them into changing rooms or bathrooms. They’re a predator’s perfect weapon because they look just like glasses. It narrows down who it could have been.”
“Jesus Christ.”
I look at Emerald. She looks horrified, too. Too small, too vulnerable in that bed. My body moves before I can think better of it, always drawn back to her.
“You don’t need to worry about it anymore,” Aisha says. “ Hospital staff were already banned from wearing them, but now they’re checking everyone’s glasses.”
Emerald sags back against the bed in relief.
“Text me,” Aisha stresses, meeting both of our eyes. “If you need anything.”
Emerald lifts her hand in a little wave. Aisha smiles back, then steps out, nodding to the officer stationed outside.
My phone buzzes in my pocket, and I pull it out, seeing Ruby’s name.
“Hey, Ruby. Did you find it?”
“No, I’m still in the lobby,” Ruby hisses. “But the guard downstairs had a weird question.”
“What?”
“He was confused when I said I was Emerald’s sister because apparently, I’m already upstairs.”
My heart stops.
“What?”
“A blonde woman has been pretending to be me, and she’s in your apartment right now.”
“Ruby—”
“Oh, don’t worry,” she says, voice sharp as glass. “I’m about to drag her ass out.”