I needed to find someone. I needed to call for help. I needed—
Rounding the block, I slammed into someone. A startled scream was cut off as I bounced back. There was a grunt, and I felt a hand grasping for my arm, but it was too late. I went down, landing hard on my side. A flash of pain jarred my bones, knocking the air out of my lungs.
“Holy shit,” a male voice boomed above me. “Are you okay?”
I gulped and wheezed air as I flopped onto my front as I heard a woman say, “Of course she’s not okay, Jon. She kamikazed into you!”
Lifting my head, I peered through the hair that had fallen into my face. I saw them—the one with the scar and the bald man, the cold-blooded murderer, running away, down the sidewalk, beyond where my car was parked. I watched them until they disappeared.
“Miss?” the man asked. “Miss, are you okay?”
Hands shaking, I pushed up onto my knees. The whole world took on a startling clarity. Cars driving by sounded like airplanes. Nearby doors closing sounded as if they were being repeatedly slammed, and my own heart was beating like a steel drum.
“Yes. No.” I rasped out. Pressing my fingers to my burning cheek, I jerked my hand back when I felt the wet warmth. Darkness smeared the tips of my fingers. My gaze shot back to where I’d run from. “We need to call the police. Someone has been shot.”
Chapter 2
I’d never been inside a police station before. One might think I lived a boring life. No parking tickets to appear for. I’d never been fined for speeding. Even as a teenager, I obeyed the law.
Well, I did do a little underage drinking here and there, and I most definitely smoked a bit of weed in my day, but I’d never gone overboard.
And I’d been clever enough to not get caught.
But now I was sitting in one of those rooms that I’d only seen on reality TV. I was sure the camera in the corner wasn’t for show. Although I’d done absolutely nothing wrong, I half expected a barrel-chested detective to burst through the door and start throwing accusations at me.
My fingers curled around the crumbled tissue I’d been holding for what felt like hours. The man I’d kamikazed into had called the police since I hadn’t been able to figure out how to get my phone out of my purse and use it.
Shock.
That’s what the EMTs who’d arrived right behind the flashing red and blue lights of the police cars had told me. They had wanted me to go to the hospital to get checked out, but the responding officers were understandably impatient. They needed answers. I was a witness to a—to a murder.
Because that man in the alley was dead.
And there was nothing seriously wrong with me. My palms were a bit raw and my body ached from my tumble. The cuts on my cheeks were nothing compared to what had happened to the man lying facedown in the alley.
I would be fine.
My breath caught, and I refused to close my eyes for anything longer than a second because when I had as the police officer drove me to the station, I saw the bald man firing the gun. I heard it crack. I saw the man fold like a paper sack.
I saw the bald man pointing the gun at me.
Terror resurfaced, and I shut it down before it took hold, but it was a struggle to not think about the fact that the murderer had seen my face. He knew that I was a witness. That was terrifying because there was no doubt in my mind that he would have no problem putting a bullet in me.
He had no problem doing it to that man.
Folding my arms across my chest, I stared at the near-empty paper cup in front of me. I’d all but gulped it down when the officer had brought it to me. A shiver rolled across my shoulders. It was so chilly in here. Even the tip of my nose was icy.
Instead of keeping my thoughts blank, I focused on what had happened. How much time I thought had passed between when I left the bar and had walked in front of the alley. What I saw was important. Someone was murdered, and I’d seen the persons responsible. Whatever information I had would help bring them to justice.
So I replayed the events over and over, up to the horrifying moment the gun had gone off, despite how badly it made me shudder and how I wished I had kept walking. That may be wrong, but I knew that until my dying day, I would never forget tonight.
That man died with his face pressed into an alley that smelled of urine.
I shuddered again. Never in a million years had I thought accepting a date with Rick the Dick would end with me sitting in a police station after witnessing…a murder.
I had no idea how long I’d been sitting in this room, but at some point an officer had shown up with my car keys. After confirming the make and model, the officer had left again to retrieve my car from the scene. I wasn’t sure if that was protocol or not, but I appreciated the gesture.
The last thing I wanted to do was return to the scene.
A shaky breath puffed out as the door opened, causing my chin to jerk up. Two men entered. The first thing I noticed was that both were dressed like I expected detectives to be. The first man wore tan trousers and the other one had on black. The first man’s dress shirt was slightly wrinkled, as if he had gotten the call in the middle of the night and had picked the first thing up from the floor. He was older, possibly in his fifties, and his dark gaze was sympathetic as he moved closer to the table. The scent of fresh coffee wafted from the cup he held. He placed a closed file on the table.
“Ms. Ramsey? I’m sorry to keep you waiting. I know you’ve had a long night. I’m Detective Hart.” He stopped, turning halfway. “And this is Detective…”