Broken Submission

The Victim

"Would you mind if I got a glass of water?" Detective Rivera asked, moving toward the kitchen.

Amelia jumped up from her seat. "Let me get that—"

"Sit." The detective's voice rang with such authority that Amelia collapsed instantly onto the couch, eyes wide.

She couldn't quite tell from looking at the woman's profile, but she thought that her lips lifted in an amused smirk. Amelia stayed quiet while Detective Rivera filled a glass and made her way back to the couch.

"Relax, Amelia," she said, voice softer.

Amelia tried to uncurl her hands and deepen her breath. The aura coming off this woman confused her senses, making her nervous, jittery, comforted, small.

The detective sat beside her, placing her glass on a coaster. She lifted Amelia's chin so that she stared into the woman's deep chestnut eyes. Thickly lashed and framed with small wrinkles, her gaze held Amelia's in an almost reverent trance.

Patricia raised a hand. "May I?"

"Yes, ma'am," Amelia whispered, despite not knowing exactly what she meant to do.

The hand reached forward and smoothed across her forehead. "Right here. Release that tension you're holding. Relax your jaw, let your eyelids droop."

Amelia's eyebrows knit for a second before she followed the instructions. She almost moaned as the headache that she hadn't even noticed was present eased, as her neck and shoulders slumped instinctually. After a few breaths, she opened her eyes, a bit embarrassed.

The woman smiled at her. "We forget to give our faces a break," she said, releasing her. "Now, Amelia, I need you to tell me about your ex-husband."

The motion was tiny but instantaneous when Amelia curled in on herself, shoulders hunching, belly drawing in, face ducking behind her hair.

Patricia slapped her upside the head.

When Amelia's wide eyes met hers, she gave her her sternest look. "Don't you dare. Don't you dare try to disappear." She leaned forward. "You are not allowed to let him win. Now, you hold everything we need to bring him in. To get justice for yourself. Stop playing the victim and do something."

Amelia's mouth dropped open. Playing the victim? She was the victim, dammit.

Patricia watched with satisfaction as a fire lit in the other woman's eyes. "Now," she said, leaning forward, "tell me everything. What are his habits? How does he contact you, when does he contact you? Birthdays, anniversaries? What kind of car does he like to drive?"

Amelia blinked at the onslaught of questions. "He..." she started, "he leaves carnations. At the door, in the house, in my car. Homegrown."

Patricia's head whipped around to stare at the bundle on the table by the door. "Like those?"

Amelia nodded. "That's why Derek called you guys."

Patricia nodded, deep in thought. She stared into the distance for a few seconds before returning her gaze to Amelia. "Okay, continue."

Amelia licked her lips. "Well, uh, as for holidays, it's been the romantic ones when I think he tries the hardest. It's actually strange—he always hated things like Valentine's Day. Just another way for businesses to make a buck off sentimentality. But once I left..."

"Why the games though?" Patricia broke in. "If he found you all these times, why not just grab you?"

Amelia forced air into her lungs. "I—I'm not entirely sure. We haven't exactly had a conversation. But, I think he wants me to come back to him. I think he wants me to choose him."

Patricia frowned. "But that doesn't make sense. He attacked you in Scottsdale."

Amelia bobbed her head, hands starting to wring. "He was mad about Derek. He yelled at me about it. That was different. I—it was the first time that I had attempted a relationship. Since..."

The detective's frown eased. "Alright. That explains the break in pattern. How about vehicles? Any preferences?"

"I honestly couldn't tell you," Amelia cringed. "I probably couldn't tell the difference between a Volkswagen and a Jeep."

Patricia blew out a contemplative breath. "Fine, how about big? Small? Truck? Color?"

She shook her head. "Not a truck. Smallish car. Black or dark blue." Amelia bit her lip. "I think they were usually pretty expensive, but I'm not sure."

"That's good." Patricia put a hand on her knee and offered a reassuring smile. "Is there anything else you can think of that might help?"

Amelia wracked her brains. "Um... he hates guns. He boxed in college. He won't eat fast food."

Something occurred to her, and Patricia leaned forward when she saw the light go on in her eyes.

"What? What is it?"

Amelia jerked a little. "He was really close to his mom. Like, oddly, creepily close to her, and she to him. If he's here, she might not know why, but she'd know where."

"Is his father in the picture?"

"Technically," Amelia said. "But he never seemed involved."

Patricia noticed that the indignant fire she had lit in Amelia had started to fade, replaced by exhaustion and stress and worry.

She slid an arm around the sub's shoulders. "Thank you, sweetheart. You did beautifully."

Amelia relaxed, and Patricia smiled when the woman rested her head on her chest. She stroked her hair back, humming softly.

They heard the sound of footsteps just before the door swung open. Matt raised an eyebrow at them, Derek close behind.

"Hey man, I think you've got competition," he laughed.

Derek blinked at the sight of his sub snuggled up to someone else. His reserved, untrusting, touch-avoidant sub. He coughed to relieve the tension. "Well, ah, good to see that you two got along well."

Amelia pulled back, and Patricia brushed her fingers over her forehead, the two sharing a smile. When Patricia turned to them though, she was all business.

"What did you find?"

Matt pulled out his phone. "I downloaded the footage. Guy didn't even ask for a warrant."

He pointed to a car on the screen. "That blue sedan is what he's driving. There wasn't a good enough angle to get the license plate. He drove up, walked upstairs to leave the flowers, and walked out. There's nothing to suggest that he tampered with Derek's car or to say how he knew the apartment number."

"So he probably staked the place out," Patricia said. "Waited until one of them came home and made a note of what floor. Still doesn't get him to the number, but it narrows it down."

Matt nodded. "Derek, we're going to head out. Get the footage checked out, see if the techs pull anything off it that we missed. I'd love to post a guard, but honestly, we don't have enough to go on," he grimaced.

"She didn't build a file by reporting previous incidents. I'll send over a restraining order for her to look over and sign. The assault in Scottsdale is the reason I was able to bring in as many people as I have, but we're stretched thin as it is." He clapped Derek on the shoulder with an apologetic smile. "We'll do what we can. In the meantime, you still got that pistol?"

"Of course." Derek stepped aside so that his friends could get by. "Thanks guys, I really appreciate it."

"Our pleasure," Patricia said. "Keep an eye on her," she said, nodding to Amelia. "You've got something good there."

His lips twitched into a smile. "I know I do."

They left, and he shut the door behind him. He took a deep breath, resting against the wall for a second. When he opened his eyes, Amelia was perched on the couch, eyes lasered in on him.

"So," he said, "what did I miss?"