I shook my head, struggling to get to my feet. When the cop tried to restrain me, I pushed her hands away. “Let go of me! Dane didn't do anything. He's my boyfriend. He was trying to save me.”
The cop stopped, looking in my eyes. I rolled my eyes, despite how much it hurt, and got up. “I'm not loopy, and I'm not on drugs. Dane is my boyfriend, and if he’s here, it's because he saved us.”
“That's what I keep telling them,” I heard Dane say from the other room, grunting when someone shoved him. “Just nobody believes me.”
“Shut up, traitor,” someone in the other room grunted, and I heard a loud smack and the thud of a body hitting the floor. The cops around here weren’t exactly the most understanding nor the most likely to follow the rules in terms of use of force, especially against convicted felons.
“Stop it!” I yelled, wincing at the pain in my head as I made my way into the other room, which turned out to be the kitchen. Dane was lying on his side, his hands cuffed behind his back while his eyes stared holes into a cop who was standing over him. “I'm telling you, he wasn't involved! What's your name? I'm going to sue your ass!”
The cop looked at me, surprise registering in his face for the first time before turning and walking away. I looked at the other two cops in the room, who both looked sheepish at the ferocity in my voice. One of them, the cop who'd helped me wake up, went over and helped Dane to his feet. “Okay, I'm going to go by her word,” she said softly to Dane. “On the promise that you don't go anywhere. We'll ride over to the hospital together. How's that sound?”
“I'm good,” Dane said, shrugging off the cop's arm and sitting back down in the chair. “And tell your buddy out there he's lucky that I'm more forgiving than Abs is.”
The cop nodded and stepped back, gathering her fellow cops and leaving us alone. “Are you okay?” Dane asked as soon as we had a bit of privacy. There was still a cop in the room, but we lowered our voices. I wanted to reach out to Dane, but at the same time, I knew if I did, the cops would get interested again. “Are you hurt?”
“I should probably get checked for a concussion,” I replied, “but if you mean am I in the same boat as Shawnie, no.”
The female cop came up to us again, this time looking less concerned. “Miss Rawlings? We have an ambulance coming to take you to the hospital.”
“And Dane?” I asked. “Can he come along with me?”
She looked at us, then nodded. “Yeah, we can do that. Come on. Mrs. Rawlings is supposed to already be at the hospital.”
* * *
One of the nice parts about living in a city like Atlanta is that there are a lot of top-flight hospitals throughout the city. When the ambulance pulled up, I’d already been checked out by the paramedic, who confirmed that while my clothes had been torn, Chris hadn't done anything else. “You've probably got a low-grade concussion,” he advised me before we pulled up, “but I'd let the docs give you a full check out. No offense—I don't know if you need it or not, but you've got one hell of a civil lawsuit on your hands.”
“Not my style, but I'll still let the doctor look,” I said, not mentioning the fact that Daddy had enough money that he didn't need to worry about the frivolity of a civil suit. “Do you know anything about Shawnie or my dad?”
The medic shook his head, and the ambulance stopped. Dane, who had been allowed to ride in the front seat next to the driver—the cops still weren't trusting him—called back. “We're here.”
I found Brittany immediately inside the emergency room, the paramedics still insisting that I ride on the gurney. “Come off it, guys, I can walk,” I complained, pushing them away. Brittany put her hands on my shoulders, pushing me back. “Brittany . . . Daddy?”
“They have him upstairs,” Brittany said, trying to maintain a calm outer demeanor. Still, I'd known her long enough; her emotions were a total wreck. “Abby, how did it all happen?”
I told her the story while we waited for the doctor. The whole time, Dane didn't leave my side, reaching out and taking my hand and holding it gently. “It's my fault, Mrs. Rawlings,” Dane said softly. “I should have seen what was wrong with Chris before all of this happened.”
“You weren't the one who lied and tried to get Shawnie to cover for you,” I said, tears coming to my eyes. “This is all my fault.”
I’d expected anger from Brittany, or at least derision. Instead, she leaned down and hugged me, then hugged Dane. “It is neither of your faults. Neither of you truly knew what kind of man he was. I remember him from five years ago, and he seemed like a normal, fine young man then.”
“Regardless of whatever else you've done in your life, know that you redeemed yourself with what you did today,” I added.
“I agree,” Brittany added. “The ambulance driver told me when they brought Patrick in that you most likely saved his life.”
“What do you mean?” I asked, confused. “What did you do?”
“I attempted CPR,” Dane said simply. “It was only for a minute or two until the cops got there and took over.”