Jenifer sat alone in the hospital waiting room. It had been over an hour since they arrived by ambulance, but still no word from the operating room on Bruce's condition. She couldn't seem to get warm. Her hands shook whenever they weren't clasped together in her lap.
A short, stout man, and a tall, thin woman, both wearing rumpled suitcoats, walked in. The woman sat down beside her, flashed a badge, and said, "Hello, Ms. Baxter, I'm Detective Madeline Greene and this is Detective George Firestone. How are you doing?"
"I'm worried, that's how I'm doing," she said, in a tone harsher than she intended.
"I understand. Waiting is the worst. Would you mind answering some questions about what happened?"
Warily, Jenifer said, "Okay."
"Is that blood on your shirt?"
Jenifer glanced down. She'd forgotten it was there. "Yes."
Detective Greene looked up at her partner, and said, "See if you can get Ms. Baxter some scrubs to put on. We're going to need the shirt for evidence."
"Why?" asked Jenifer.
"It's just a formality. We have to gather all the evidence we can. Probably won't even have it tested. This sounds like an open and shut case of justifiable homicide."
"Is Daniel in trouble? He saved our lives! That maniac was going to kill me!" Her volume increased with her anxiety, "My husband got shot!"
"Please calm down, Ms. Baxter. I'm sure everything will be fine. We have to do our jobs - dot all the I's and cross all the T's."
Jenifer inhaled a deep breath, let it out slowly, and said, "I'm sorry. It's just... everything is so..." Her voice cracked, and she couldn't go on without crying, so she stared at her folded hands.
Firestone returned carrying a blue top and a plastic evidence bag.
"Thanks, George," said Greene, as she stood and took them. "Come on, Ms. Baxter. I'll walk you to the ladies room, and you can change shirts." As they left the waiting room, she turned to her partner, and said, "See if you can get an update on Mr. Baxter's condition."
"You got it."
Having something to do eased Jenifer's tension. She entered the ladies room, replaced her shirt with the scrubs, and put the evidence in the bag, all under the watchful eye of Detective Greene.
"Some blood leaked through. I'll wait outside if you want to wash it off."
Jenifer turned to the mirror and lifted the shirt. A large, brownish stain marked her left breast. Wearing Bruce's blood seemed appropriate and made her feel connected to him.
"No, I'll shower later," she said, choking up.
They walked silently back to the waiting room. Detective Firestone stood as they entered.
Afraid to ask, Jenifer stared at him expectantly.
"He's still in surgery. The doctor will speak with you when they're finished."
Sinking into a chair, Jenifer sobbed. "At least they're still working on him, so he's alive."
No one spoke for a minute, letting emotions settle.
Detective Greene sat down beside Jenifer again, rubbed her back soothingly, and said, "Let's get this over with, so we can get out of here and stop bothering you."
"Okay, what do you want to know?"
Detective Firestone flipped open a notepad, and prepared to write.
"Did you know your assailants?"
"I recognized one of them. All I know is his first name, Carl."
"Which one was he?"
"The one that Daniel shot."
"How do you know him?"
"He was a security guard where I worked a couple of years ago."
"And where was that?"
Afraid of being judged unfairly, Jenifer answered, "The Barkley Building, downtown."
The detectives glanced at each other with sudden interest.
"What company did you work for? There are several businesses there?"
It wouldn't do any good to lie to the police, so she answered truthfully, "Virile Desires."
Detective Firestone blurted out, "V.D.? What did you do at V. D.?"
Jenifer cringed at the unfortunate abbreviated nickname of her former employer, while Detective Greene scowled at her partner's crudeness.
Staring at her folded hands, Jenifer said, "I was an... actress." Saying it out loud made her feel pathetic and small. 'Actress' sounded so presumptuous to her own ears. The job she thought set her free from past abuse now seemed to be the cause of her current nightmare.
"How old are you, Ms. Baxter?"
"Twenty-two."
"When did you first work for Virile Desires?"
The questioning took an ugly turn. Her past was none of their business. Jenifer began to feel trapped by her own admissions. "Why are you asking? What does that have to do with anything?"
Detective Greene's voice softened when she answered. "I'm sorry, but your case just became more complicated. Virile Desires was shut down about a year ago, and the owner, Vladimir Kolinski, is going on trial for sex trafficking and prostitution. He was using underage actors - taking advantage of runaways he found living on the street. Did you know that Daniel Lyons owns the Barkley Building?"
It was Jenifer's turn to look surprised. "No, I didn't."
"How did you meet Mr. Lyons?"
"We met at a restaurant."