Princess, Without Cover (7 page)

He spoke in a decisive manner, motioning to his partner, who was a short, hard-faced woman with pinched lips.  Her hair style was as sensible as her black walking shoes. She wore very little makeup and her fingernails were unkempt. It was clear that she didn’t take much time for personal pampering, although Sydney could tell from her muscled biceps that she must spend hours in the gym.

“Of course.  But I don’t remember much.” 

Sydney was already apologetic.  She knew she wasn’t going to be much help. Her memory was sketchy at best.

“Anything that you can remember will be helpful.”

He dismissed her statement with cynical disregard, as though her opinion was of the most miniscule of importance. It was clear that he felt that he was the only one qualified to determine what was helpful and what was not.

Sydney was immediately taken aback by the curtness in his voice, which only served to put her on edge.  His partner moved around the bed to stand closer to Sydney, pulling out a little leather notebook and a heavy ink pen. 

“What do you remember, Ms. Ross?”

Detective Wills had the no-nonsense manner that Sydney would have expected from a detective, as well as the dumpy clothes and the coffee breath.  She could tell from her burned out demeanor that this woman was someone who had seen everything and had probably spoken with a hundred girls just like Sydney. And it was very apparent that she was weary of it. 

Stephen picked up her hand again, reassuringly.  She didn’t pull away, even though Detective Daniels flickered his gaze briefly as he registered the gesture.  She tried not to care because they weren’t doing anything wrong. The warmth of Stephen’s hand gave her the assurance that someone in the room was on her side.  The unexpected glacial cold emanating from Detective Daniels certainly wasn’t doing it for her.

“I only remember an old beat-up car.  It was black. And it had a big gold bird on the hood.  I didn’t see it at all before it hit me, only when it was backing up to drive away. And there was the smell… burning rubber, I think. I heard tires squealing.”

“You didn’t see the driver when he struck you?” Detective Wills’ pen hesitated on her paper, waiting for Sydney to confirm.

 “No. I didn’t. It happened too fast.  I heard a loud engine and the next thing I knew, I was on the ground.  I didn’t even feel anything at the time.” The heavy pen scratched quickly against the paper.

“Were the car windows up or down?”

“I don’t know.”

“Were the windows tinted?”

“I don’t know.”

“Was the car in the parking lot when you went into the store?”

“I don’t think so. But I didn’t notice.”

“Do you know anyone with a black Trans-Am or Firebird?”

“No.”

“Do you know anyone who would want to hurt you?”

The pen lingered over the paper, waiting for something to write.

Sydney halted her answers and stared at the detective in shock. She had been under the assumption that it was a strange, random accident. The idea that someone had tried to kill her dawned on her as suddenly as someone dumping ice water on her head.

“You think someone hit me on purpose?” she asked incredulously.  “Who would do that?”

“That’s what we’re trying to ascertain, Ms. Ross. Do you have any ideas?”

“Why would you think they did it on purpose?” She couldn’t wrap her mind around the fact that someone would want to hurt her enough to ponder who it could be.

 “The clerk in the store saw a late model black Trans-Am speeding into the parking lot, as though it had been waiting for you to walk out of the store.  It hit you, then made a quick three-point turn to escape from the parking lot.  Unfortunately, the glare of the sun was on the windshield, so he couldn’t get a description of the driver. He couldn’t see the tag either because the driver fled the scene too fast.  But they’re pulling up the surveillance tapes for our review.  Do you have any enemies?”

 “No.  I don’t.  I mean, my ex-boyfriend’s parents hate me because I got pregnant.  But I don’t think I would call them enemies. They just pretend that I don’t exist.”

“When is the last time that you spoke with them?”

“When we told them… about four months ago.”

When Mrs. Price called had called her a stupid little twit. 

“How did they take the news?” 

“Not well. They wanted me to get an abortion.”

“Why didn’t you?”

Stephen interrupted, surprise and annoyance on his handsome face.  “What does that have to do with the situation?  Is it relevant?”

“Yes, it is. I am trying to determine Ms. Ross’ motives.” Detective Wills barely spared him a glance before turning her attention back to Sydney.  “Were you hoping to get money from them?”

Shock rippled through Sydney again.  Why in the world would she want to get money from them? That had been the furthest thing from her mind.

Stephen interrupted again. “This is ridiculous!  Of course she wasn’t.  Do you know who her parents are?”

He unconsciously moved closer to Sydney, a move that he didn’t even realize, but that Detective Daniels certainly did. The detective absorbed everything, his face impassive.

Sydney squeezed his hand. “It’s okay, Stephen.”  The detective’s eyes continued their cold appraisal. He filed away the cousin’s protective demeanor in his mind as he watched their gentle interaction. 

“You’ve already spoken with the Prices’, haven’t you?” she softly asked. “I can tell that you have. They don’t like me much.  But I don’t want their money. I just couldn’t get an abortion, that’s all. I wanted the baby. They should be happy now, though.  She’s gone.”

She closed her stinging eyes, a sudden weariness flooding over her, even though she had just woken up. Stephen shifted his gaze from her to the detectives.

“Will that be all? She’s been through a lot. She’s tired.”

Stephen’s voice was firm.  His question wasn’t really a question at all; it was a statement that the interview was over. Detective Daniel, however, made it clear that it would be over when he said it was over. He stepped closer to them, his eyes glinting firmly as he gazed at the two of them sharply.

“We’re just trying to do a thorough job, Mr. James. We have to understand everyone’s motives so that we can find out who did this.” Detective Daniels’ steel blue eyes stared at Sydney, his voice no longer perfunctory; instead it was cold and penetrating.

“Why would someone with the world on a string choose to get disinherited for a surprise pregnancy? You just graduated high school and are not married. Not even in a relationship.  It would seem to me that the easiest thing to do would have been to get rid of it and go on with your life.  Unless you wanted something.” He continued to stare at her, unflinching.

“What exactly are you insinuating? I thought you were trying to find out who tried to kill Sydney.  But it seems as though she is on trial here.  Why is that?”  Stephen’s voice was hard and his eyes sparked as they locked with the iron gaze of the detective. 

Sydney stared at him in shock.  This hard, assertiveness was not a side of Stephen that she had seen.  It didn’t match with his easy-going personality, but she found that it didn’t trouble her.  It actually had just the opposite effect.  She felt protected.  For the first time in her life, someone was standing up for her. 

“We’re just doing our job. We have to understand the dynamics of this situation so that we can figure out who did it and why.  For instance, we need to know if Ms. Ross was trying to get money from the Prices’ so that she could run away with you.” 

Even though he was speaking to Stephen, Detective Daniels’ gaze was locked on Sydney to gauge her reaction as her eyes flew to him.

“This has nothing to do with Stephen!  We only casually knew each other when this whole thing happened. He was nice enough to take me in when my parents kicked me out. Instead of trying to smear me, why aren’t you more focused on finding out who did this?  I’m the victim here, not the Prices’.” Sydney was frustrated now and her fragile emotional state shone through loud and clear. 

“I don’t believe this!  Somebody ran me down and killed my baby and you are treating me like a criminal!  I didn’t do anything wrong!” Her hands started shaking as she spoke, shock lodging deeply in her chest at the turn of events in this interrogation.

“We’re sorry for upsetting you, Sydney.  We just have to know everything so that we
can
figure out who did this.  We’ll let you know what we find out and if we need to speak with you again.”

Stephen stared at him.  “Do that.  And maybe next time you can be a little kinder.  This girl has just lost her baby.”

He didn’t even bother looking at them again as he turned his attention back to Sydney.  He had never seen anyone look so vulnerable.  Her wide eyes were full of bleak loneliness and she seemed lost…like she had been somewhere that he could never, ever go.  Stephen felt protective urges twinge inside of him that he’d never felt before.  She seemed so small as she lay wrapped in tubes and tape.

Both detectives turned their backs without another word and walked out, taking their blatant discourse with them and closing the door behind them.  Sydney looked at Stephen in confusion.

“What is going on?” Her jeweled eyes glistened as though she was going to burst into tears at any moment. 

“Don’t worry about it, Syd.  You didn’t do anything wrong. I’m a big believer that truth always comes out, so they’ll figure it out. Eventually.”

“But why were they treating me like a criminal?”

Her soft voice wavered. He brushed the hair out of her face and then rubbed her arm comfortingly. 

“Because they already spoke with the Prices’ and your parents. I’m sure it was the impression that they received from them.  Don’t waste your time thinking about it.  You just focus on getting some rest, okay?”

She shook her head.  It was going to be hard to rest with all of the thoughts that were swirling around in her head. The turn of events was unbelievable. She had gone from being a victim of a hit and run, to finding out that it was probably a planned attack to being interrogated like a criminal. She was pretty sure she wouldn’t be sleeping for awhile.

She was asleep five minutes later.

Stephen stayed with her as she slept; watching her sleep, reading magazines, pacing the floor. He sat by her bed like a sentinel, guarding her as she slept, although no one came back to bother her except for the nurses who took her vital signs every hour.  She slept like the dead.

He kept his bedside vigil as the hours turned into days.  He barely left her side to shower or eat, although she frequently encouraged him to go home and get some rest. He refused. He was used to erratic schedules.  And he was her sole visitor. There was no way he was going to leave her alone in the sterile hospital room with only the scent of Lysol and overworked nurses to keep her company.

Finally, six days later, she was discharged from the hospital with orders to rest at home and a prescription for birth control pills. As they rolled down the road in Stephen’s black vintage T-Bird, he laid her cell phone in her lap. She was surprised to realize that she hadn’t even missed it for the week that she was in the hospital. 

She opened it now to check her messages.  There was only one.  Holding her breath, she opened her phone to find that the text was from Christian, not her parents. 

She exhaled slowly, letting her warm breath escape in a thin rush over her lips.  She had no idea why she had thought that they might show concern now or why she allowed herself to feel disappointment that they didn’t. It shouldn’t be a surprise. They had left her in the hospital without seeing her. They had to know that she was going to be devastated. 

I’m sorry.

The two stark words screamed at her from the small screen. 

Christian had spent two seconds typing a two-word message.  Their baby had died and he was
sorry
.  But he wasn’t really, she knew that.  He was relieved.  He wasn’t going to have a kid running around that he would never even know. But the fact that he couldn’t even bring himself to ask how she was doing echoed over and over in her head. She couldn’t believe that she had wasted her virginity on him.

Stephen reached over and wrapped his arm around her shoulders as he drove and she dropped her head onto his broad shoulder.  As she stared absently at the scenery blurring past, she decided that the best thing to do was to try and file away her pain like a memory. Tucking it away in the farthest recesses of her mind- hiding it from herself- seemed like the smartest thing to do.

The ride home passed in peaceful silence.  When they pulled up to the house, Stephen unloaded her bag from the trunk and helped her walk inside. She suddenly felt like a cripple as she hunched over her injuries and hobbled into the house. As he grasped her elbow, she turned to him with a smile.

“I’m not an invalid, Stephen. I’m feeling much better.  My ribs are barely even sore now. Just don’t make me laugh.”

She smiled again convincingly and followed Stephen as he walked toward her bedroom.  As they walked down the short hall, she gasped. A freshly painted door was hanging in her doorway. He barely even glanced at it as he opened it nonchalantly and waited for her to enter first.  She gasped again.

Her room had a fresh coat of Robin’s Egg blue paint on the walls, her favorite color.  The bed in the center of the back wall had a new white eyelet bedspread, turned down at the top, topped with plump new pillows.  She could see fresh new linens poking out from underneath.  A lacy white throw was folded at the foot. She turned to Stephen, shock apparent on her face.

“What?” he asked innocently, as he set her bag beside her refurbished bed. A small, self-satisfied smile tilted the corners of his lips.

She looked around again in dumbfounded amazement. 

“How did you…?”  She couldn’t seem to form a cohesive sentence. 

This act of kindness had taken her completely off-guard.  It was ironic to her that once upon a time, she had the bedroom of a princess and hadn’t thought twice about it.  The thoughtfulness behind this tiny, simple redecorated room touched her more deeply than her old king-sized bedroom suite ever had.