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“It-it was some club. I don’t remember the name, but it was like a sex club or something. We-we had to wear masks.”
I sucked in a sharp, silent breath and shared a look with Spike whose brows were raised high, his face swelling red.
The Flirty Sanctum.
I cleared my throat and jotted the details down as she continued explaining.
“My boyfriend ran off and left me alone. I-I was uncomfortable, and I just wanted to leave. I tried to, and then this guy wearing a bull mask attacked me. He shoved me into the bathroom and then he—” She broke, sobbing harder.
“About what time did this happen?”
“I-I don’t know. Honestly, I don’t. After it happened, the guy just left me there. I had a panic attack and I guess I must have passed out in the alley before I could ever call the cops. Next thing I know, I’m waking up here.”
“Is there anything specific you remember about the guy? Hair color, height, build, skin color, anything at all?” asked Spike.
“I-I think he was white. Dark hair… Black, maybe?” She squeezed her eyes closed and shook her head, more tears slipping out of her eyes. “I-I’m sorry. I’m just not sure. It-it all happened so fast.”
“That’s okay, Delilah. We’re going to investigate and do everything we can to find the guy that did this to you. But first, we need to speak with your boyfriend. Can you tell us his name?” I asked gently.
“Justin. Justin Wheatley.”
“And do you know where we can find Justin?” I asked her.
She sighed as she thought about it, and I could see the longer it took her to form a response that she was either too scared to tell us, or she frankly didn’t know.
“He could be at home,” she muttered after a moment. “Or at work. He won’t answer my phone calls. For all I know, he probably left with some random woman at that club.”
She sniffled and wiped hastily under her swollen, battered eyes, hissing from the pain.
“I just don’t understand how he could leave me like that. Why didn’t he come look for me?”
“Those are very good questions, Delilah, and I promise we’ll do everything in our power to get the answers. Where does Justin work?”
“He’s a manager at the mini market in town.” She paused, chewing her lip. Slowly, her brows raised. “Now that I think about it, he’s supposed to be off today. That’s why we’d gone out last night...”
Spike cleared his throat then and nudged my shoulder, slightly cocking his head toward the door.
“Excuse us for a moment. Are you thirsty? Can we bring you anything?”
She politely refused and then stared toward the window, blinking through more tears.
I followed Spike out, our movements ceasing when we made it halfway down the hall.
“What are you thinking?” I asked him.
“I think we just got handed one of the most complicated cases we’ve ever had. And I know there’s a lot more she’s not telling us. You and I both know you have to be twenty-one to get into the sanctum, which means—”
“They had fakes.”
It was either that, or this Justin Wheatley was old enough to get in and had somehow found a loophole to get Delilah in as well. There was a shit storm of questions we still had to ask her, but if we pushed Delilah too hard, she could shut down on us, which would only make both of our jobs harder. We had to handle this carefully.
“What do you want to do? Do you want to continue questioning her?”
“I think it’s best we do a little digging. Speak to the boyfriend first and then go to the club. Felix should have security footage.”
“There’s no guarantee he'll give us access.”
“He will if I beat the shit out of him.” Spike sighed at my disapproval and rolled his eyes. “Fine. We’ll get a warrant if we have to.”
