Page 147 of Secrets on Ice

“What’s the last thing you remember?” he asks.

I try, I really try, but there’s nothing.

“The club,” I say slowly. “We were at the club. There was a sign. Cassidy and I were dancing.” I frown, chasing it, and it just dissolves in my hands. “And then … nothing. I don’t … Em, I don’t remember anything after that.”

His jaw goes tight as he squeezes my hand. “That’s okay.”

“Why am I in hospital?” Panic climbs up my throat as the beeps on my machine quicken.

So, he tells me carefully, watching my face the whole time, that someone put something in my drink. That I got separated from the girls, Sully noticed me acting weird, and followed me. He attacked the man who did this to me, and then I was rushed to the hospital.

“Oh my god,” I whisper. “Someone drugged me.”

“You’re safe.” He takes my hand, being careful of the drip. “You’re safe, Em. It’s over. You’re okay.”

I lie there, trying to feel something, but mostly I just feel very far away, like all of this is happening to somebody else and I’m watching it through glass.

“Where’s everyone?” I ask.

“Cassidy went back to the hotel to shower. She’ll be back in an hour.” He rubs a hand over his face. “The boys had to fly out, there’s a game tomorrow.”

“Of course. Why are you not with them?”

“I couldn’t leave you. I’ll be meeting up with the team later,” he tells me. “Sully didn’t want to go.”

“Okay.”

“But because he’s not family, he wasn’t allowed to stay behind,” Emmett explains.

“Understandable. I’m glad you’re here. It’s all very confusing,” I tell him.

“I’m sure it is. But you’re safe now. I haven’t told Mom yet, I didn’t want her to worry. You know she would be on the next plane down here,” he tells me. That is true, she would. “The girls said they will fly back home whenever you are up for it, there’s no hurry.”

“That’s nice of them.”

“Perks of having your own plane, I guess.” He chuckles.

He’s not wrong there.

A soft knock interrupts us. Two detectives stand in the doorway, a middle-aged man with a notepad and a woman in her forties with calm, tired eyes. They introduce themselves quietly, badges clipped to their belts, and ask if now is a good time.

Emmett steps back, giving them space.

“Ms. Black,” the woman says gently, “we’re here about what happened last night. How are you feeling?”

I swallow. “Still a bit foggy … but okay.”

She nods, voice steady and professional. “If you’re up to it, we’d like to ask you a few questions about the evening. We can stop at any time.”

“I don’t remember any of it,” I tell her. “I already told my brother. There’s just nothing there.”

“That’s very normal with what was in your system,” she says. “You don’t need to remember. We have the footage.”

The footage.

She tells me they have him. That the club’s cameras caught all of it, clear as day. A man approaching our section, then later, near my drink. And when I got up, the same man steering me toward a fire exit while I could barely stand.

“He’s in custody,” she says. “He’s been charged. And I want you to hear this part, because I think it might matter to you down the line.” She leans forward. “We know him. We’ve been trying to link him to a string of incidents at that club and others, women drugged, some of them taken. We’ve never had enough to hold him. Never been able to catch him in the act.”