Devil’s in the Details (3 page)

"Can you describe what he looked like?" Detective Scarlett jumped on the quick pause.

I gave her a shitty look, "He was tall, maybe six one. Brown hair, and looked like a thousand other interns swarming around the capital at any given day." I squeezed the water bottle before taking a slow sip.

"You mentioned to the officers that there was a man sitting on a bench reading a magazine. Can you describe him?"

God was this woman cold, "I don't know if it was a man or a woman. I couldn't tell. They were wearing a blue baseball cap with letters on it, sunglasses and they wore a hood over their head. I only noticed they were reading Popular Science." I glared at the woman, "Aren’t there cameras in the station? Why can't you review the tape? See all of us on the platform and stop bothering me? Isn't it clear to you detectives that I was just a random attack by bored drug addicts? Drug addicts that I am sure will be back in the same spot tonight looking for their next target." I was getting angry, trying to hold back my tears and from shouting at this woman to piss off and find the men who beat the hell out of me and beat the hell out of them.

Detective Scarlett smiled tightly, clicking her pen closed she pulled out a few photographs, "Normally, yes, each station has cameras placed at the entrances and exits. Allowing for full coverage of the platforms and the tunnels." She held the stack of photographs in her hands, "As for finding the men who attacked you, we don't need to do that, Ms. Ivers." Handing over the photographs, she continued, "All four men who attacked you were murdered. Brutally murdered, and by the looks of it, by someone who knew exactly what they were doing."

I stared in the woman's brown eyes before drifting to look at the crime scene photographs. Three bodies were scattered on the concrete floor, pools of blood dotting underneath them. There was a puddle of an orange red liquid that wasn't blood, leading towards the edge of the platform, disappearing down onto the tracks.

There were no close up images of the fatal injuries on the men, only wide shots of the whole scene. I looked over the photographs, not feeling much of anything. I had seen worse in my days as an emergency room nurse and it would take a lot more to make my stomach turn. Then there was one small fact, I felt no remorse for these men. They had gotten what they deserved. I set the photographs down next to the uneaten jello on the tray table in front of me, "Am I suspect?"

Detective Scarlett shook her head, noting the lack of any reaction to the death of my attackers, she glared back at me before speaking, "Not at all. I spoke to the doctor treating you and he informed me that your injuries were debilitating. Meaning you were barely able to get away let alone inflict the immense amount of physical damage these men endured." She looked at me for a minute, "You don't remember anyone coming to your aid? Anyone coming into the station at the last second?"

She reached over and pointed at the first man, "This man died from choking on his own blood. The bones in his throat were shattered and sliced through his arteries, after his forearm was broken in two like a dried piece of wood." She then pointed at the next one, face down with a pool of blood under his head, "This one. The back of his skull shattered by the fire extinguisher that appears to have been thrown at him. He fell on his face and died instantly when the force of the impact snapped his neck. The Medical Examiner found pieces of skull imbedded into his brain." She moved to point two more times, continuing with the vivid descriptions, "This man had his nose shoved up into his brain, he was dead before he hit the floor. And here, well, let's just say after the train ran over him, there wasn’t much left to identify him by."

Detective Scarlett stared at me, again waiting for a reaction from the gruesome details, but I didn't give her one. "So, you don't recall maybe seeing a police officer, a solider, or someone that carried themselves like they could be a professionally trained fighter, walk onto the platform?

I shook my head, "I blacked out after the one asshole clocked me across the face." I shoved the photographs away, suddenly wanting to be done with this interview since I felt like I was being treated like a suspect or an idiot, not the victim. "Are we done? I’m just going to repeat what I told the officers last night. I don't remember anything else other than what I told them and you."

Picking up the photographs and sliding them back in her binder, Detective Scarlett spoke, "The woman who brought you into the emergency room last night. How do you know her?"

My head shot up to look at the detective. My memory flashing a crystal clear image of the blonde with the soft slate grey eyes, looking at me as I sat in the passenger seat of a car. The way her voice was kind, strong, and made me feel safe when I came to and felt how hurt I really was from the attack.

I also remembered for a split second, through the throbbing of my cheek and the sting of the tears rushing down my face, how beautiful the woman was. How warm her hand was against my cheek when she whispered that I was safe now. I closed my eyes, trying to draw out smaller details that would help me recognize the good Samaritan that took me to my hospital and carried me into the emergency room. Handing me off to the staff and disappeared without leaving a name.

I shook my head, "No, I don't know her. I just moved back to the city and the only people I know around here is Stacy and the rest of the staff I work with." I turned to look at the detective, "If you can find out who she is, I would like to thank her."

She nodded, writing a few notes in her binder, "Thank you Ms. Ivers, I think you’ve given us a few leads to follow up on." Detective Scarlett stood up, pulling on her sleeves, "I will leave my card and if you think of anything, please call me. I’ll be in touch as we work on this case." She smiled tightly, "And I hope you get well soon, Ms. Ivers." With that, she hustled out of my room, leaving the door open.

I fell back into my pillows, closing my eyes and letting a few tears slip out. I was tired, sore, in pain, and every time I stopped thinking for more than a second, I would see their faces. I could feel their hands grab at me then, hit me. Hear the disgusting laughter as I hit the concrete floor hard, falling to the mercy of violent drug addicts.

I took a few deep breaths, forcing my brain to find anything else to think about to calm my turning stomach and racing heart. I tried to think about my current patients, work, the piles of boxes I still had to unpack. None of it helped. Then I let my mind fall to the blonde woman who knelt in front of me, buckling my seat belt. The way she smiled softly, her eyes never leaving mine until the last possible second. The way her voice calmed me down and took the edge off my shock.

I focused on her and my heart rated slowed, my stomach stopped turning, and I began to breathe easier.

I kept her in my head even as I heard Stacy shuffle back into the room, "Dr. Owens said if I can get you to pee, I can take you home in an hour. So I brought a pitcher of water and a straw." She set the pitcher down, "I eavesdropped a little, that detective is a bitch."

I chuckled, keeping my eyes closed with the blonde hovering behind my eyelids. As I went to open them, my mind picked up on something in the memory of the blonde. When she stood up to close my door, I caught a glimpse of a hood hanging over the back of her jacket and a quick flash of the blue brim of a baseball cap hanging out of her back pocket.

My eyes flicked open, reaching for the pitcher of water I half barked at Stacy, "Can you call Roger in security and ask him for a favor? Ask if he’ll let me take a look at the security footage of when I arrived in the emergency room?"

I dropped the straw in the pitcher and started drinking the water. "Tell him I will buy him doughnuts for a month."

Stacy shrugged, picking up the in room phone, "I don't think he needs the doughnuts, but yeah I can ask. I’m sure he'll do it since he has a crush on you." She dialed the security office, looking back at me, "What are you looking for? The cops are trying to get a warrant for the same footage."

I licked my lips, "A blonde. A blonde who I think saved my life."

"Can any of you give me three quick tactical facts that made Erwin Rommel so successful in the North Africa campaign of World War Two?"

Half of the students in the room shot their hands up, making me smile and point at the eager Ensign in the back, "Ensign Christenson."

The young man in the black short sleeved uniform the Academy allowed the Midshipmen to wear during the spring, stood up straighter than a board, "Yes ma'am. Rommel was successful because he was willing to put himself in the front lines and lead his troops. He utilized the speed of his tanks over his enemies to an advantage and he often caught his enemies by surprise before they had a chance to organize their own defenses."

I nodded, "Thank you Ensign. You may be seated." I walked over to the white board, scribbling the three answers I was just given under the handful of other lecture notes I had written over the last hour. "Even though Field Marshal Rommel was a part of the German army, and an enemy to the Allies, he still was one of the greatest military tacticians of the war. And as they always say, history repeats itself. I believe that we all can learn from our enemies as much as we can our allies."

I set the black marker down on the small desk, looking at the clock, "Alright, that’s the end of class. For next week, I would like you all to read chapters ten to twenty one in your text, as well as pick one great military leader throughout history and write their greatest tactical successes and failures."

Folding my arms across my chest, I scanned the room of future naval officers in front of me. Intense with giving me their full attention, "I will be extending the due date until next week as well. I know it's a drill weekend and I would much rather have you all focus on getting a good night of sleep versus staying up late to get a paper written."

The buzzing bell cut me off. The entire room stood up at full attention, waiting for my command. I waved my hand, "Class dismissed."

A unified yes ma'am filled the room before they all filed out in an orderly fashion. I smiled, thinking back to my days here and how I was so high strung that I could probably turn coal into diamonds in my palm for how hard I clenched them on a daily basis.

I wiped the white board clean before collecting my notes and dropped them in my briefcase, noticing that my right palm had a small purple bruise growing from where I drove it into a face last night. I stretched out the hand, feeling that it was a little sore, but not anything that would hinder the rest of my day or need further attention. Picking up my briefcase, I exited the room and headed towards my office. Nodding at the rushing students who cast firm ma’am’s my way.

It was the end of the class day for me and I was exhausted. Only managing two hours of sleep before having to get up and make it to my eight o'clock class. The impromptu trip to the emergency room had taken more time than I wanted. I barely escaped without being cornered to give up my information and why I was bringing in the battered brunette.

I stared at the frosted glass of my office door,
Commander V. Bancroft, USN Ret. - Military History and Tactics
, painted in gold on the pebbly glass. I hated that I had to have my formal title on the door instead of just my name, but tradition and protocol ran deep in the Naval Academy.

Pushing the door to my office open, I frowned at the sight of the redhead in the khaki colored Navy uniform sitting on the edge of my desk, flipping through the stack of graded papers. "Dani, don't mix those up. They're in alphabetical order by class."

She rolled her eyes and set the stack down, "Sorry Professor Bancroft." She moved to flop down in the chair facing my desk as I closed the door and locked it. Dropping my briefcase on the floor next to my desk, I took off my dark blue suit jacket, "I’m not a Professor, just an instructor."

She raised her eyebrows at me, "Well I can't call you Commander since you are retired and refuse to wear a uniform." She brushed at her gold Lieutenant bars, "And I can't call you by your first name in the sacred halls of the Naval Academy, so Professor it is."

I rolled my eyes, pulling up the sleeves of my button down as I sat, "Why are you in my office anyway? I thought they rarely let you out of your cave over in the basement." I leaned back in my leather chair, scanning over all the paperwork I would have to take home. Midterms were in a week and I would have to submit grades soon.

Dani squinted at me, "I’m here because I did what you asked last night and scrubbed the security footage from the station. But we have a small problem."