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“What didn’t fuckin’ happen?” Atlas snarled as he glared across the room at Elliette, who was being suspiciously quiet considering she liked to talk everyone’s ear off.
My dad came in the room next, and his eyes swept the entire room, landing on Elliette. “My office. Now.”
I stilled, surprised at the tone in my father’s voice.
“What happened?” I repeated.
Elliette skittered away, not making eye contact, and the horrified gut feeling that’d been plaguing me since they’d left pulsed.
“Tell him,” my father snarled at Boseman as he left the room.
Boseman rubbed his eyes with one hand and then pulled away, looking at me with regret.
Then he told me what happened.
“I’m sorry, but what?”
“We hurt the girl,” my senior officer, my right-hand man, said. “Ameer got the door open with the ram, and the girl was coming out with a packed bag. She was caught with the door, and then she was knocked backward about five feet.”
The visual that gave me made the bile churn in my stomach. “Is she okay?”
Nobody answered me, but Assman started to speak.
“Then Elliette went all fuckin’ nutso on her and slammed her back into the ground, causing the cut on her forehead to open up more,” Assman said, sounding pissed as hell.
Well, he wasn’t anywhere near as mad as I was.
“She did what?” I asked.
“She cuffed her when she tried to get up and save a plate that her grandmother made,” Assman said. “She was screaming about her grandmother’s plates, and not about how she was being brutalized.”
I closed my eyes as horror washed over me.
A long time ago, before she’d retired, Shayne’s Nonna had made pottery.
When they’d made the move from Italy, only a few of her original pieces had made it over.
Shayne had worshipped those plates.
I swallowed the bile that threatened to come up following that statement.
“Then what happened?” I rasped, the words feeling like they were burning my throat.
Boseman gave me the rest of the story, almost reluctantly.
“She’s unhinged,” Assman muttered when Boseman had finished. “I’ve never seen an officer act like that.”
I looked to my father as he came to stand in the doorway, not knowing what to do.
“She’s been put on administrative leave…” he paused. “And I’ll be letting her know as soon as we can find her. She never made it to my office. Came back here, did all the right things, then disappeared when we had a couple of rowdy drunks come in.”
I whipped my head around to stare at Boseman. “Where is she?”
“She left,” Boseman hesitated. “After Assman pissed her off and called her out on her shit.”
“And why didn’t you call her out on her shit?” I snarled, my extremities literally shaking.
Boseman eyed the exit, and I knew that I was making him uncomfortable.
