Colleagues

Chapter 19 | Margot

There was no doubt in my mind that it was Sadie. Who else could've known about Christian? As I walked down the hallway, accompanied by the nuisance of an officer, I internally chastised myself for ever trusting her. To be fair, it was not my fault that she had caught a glimpse of our shameful secret.

After all, that's what it was, a sordid understanding between Christian and I that nobody would ever know. At least that was the case until Sadie had caught a glimpse of it, underneath a lifted sleeve. Somewhere deep in the back of my mind, I realized that I could not blame her. She was doing what she truly believed was a good thing, although she had no idea what she was getting herself into.

When we finally arrived at the station, I internally prepared myself for the multitude of questions and interrogations to come. The officer who had come to my apartment opened the car door for me.

"Thanks," I muttered under my breath, not attempting to conceal my discontent.

"I know this might seem scary or upsetting to you," Officer Davis expressed. "But we really have your best interest at heart. We're actually trying to keep you safe."

"Sure thing, officer," I replied, sarcasm lacing my words. I knew I was being an asshole but I couldn't help it. I just hoped I could prove to these meddlers that my relationship with Christian wasn't just black and white. He wasn't the assailant, and I wasn't the victim.

"Alright, just follow me in here," Officer Davis instructed. If I had struck a nerve, he certainly didn't show it. He pointed me towards a room with a table and two chairs. It wasn't an interrogation room at least, but the space definitely wasn't inviting. I walked over to the table, sitting down in one of the uncomfortable chairs.

"Someone will be with you shortly," the officer disappeared into the hallway. If everything went as planned, I would be out of here in less than an hour. I was an attorney for Christ's sake. I knew how to talk to cops.

A few moments later, a middle-aged woman entered the room. Curly black hair framed her thin face. She offered me a small, even genuine smile, but I turned away, refusing to give anything away.

"Hello, Ms. Lopez. My name is Dr. Page. I'm a consulting physician here." She paused, clearly waiting for a response, something I refused to provide her with. She sighed, continuing. "I'm going to give you a quick check up, just to make sure everything is fine." Her voice was surprisingly soothing and I found myself trusting her against my will. "I know it might seem frustrating, but it's a legal obligation to ensure there's nothing wrong."

"Yes, of course. I understand." I figured that the more compliant I was, the sooner all of this would be over.

I sat patiently as the examiner checked my arms, my legs, my neck for any bruises, marks, or other forms of evidence that Christian could be hurting me. I knew it was pointless, however. She wouldn't find anything.

After what felt like hours, the woman got up, preparing to leave. "There will be a psychologist with you shortly to ask you a few questions," she explained. "Please be truthful. Nothing you say will leave this room. We're trying to protect you here. Understand?" Her last few words held some degree of emotion. Sympathy? Pity? Concern? I wasn't sure. All I knew was I needed to get out of this room as soon as possible.

If Sadie was the one who had submitted the anonymous report, chances were she had mentioned Christian by name to the authorities. That would mean that an arrest would most likely be made shortly. It was protocol that a mandatory arrest would occur. In order to ensure that Christian made it out unscathed, I knew I needed to bend the truth, at least a little bit.

Even if Christian managed to successfully evade punitive damages, there was the whole other problem of him being angry, possibly even enraged, that somebody had reported him to the authorities. In the back of my mind, I knew he wouldn't believe it was me. I knew too much about the law to know that without tangible evidence, domestic violence cases rarely went beyond the initial arrest. But then who would he suspect? Would he uncover the truth that it was the unassuming woman living next door? I also knew beyond a doubt he would find some way to blame me. Even if it wasn't my fault.