Page 85 of A New Days Don

There is a look of shock, before his face falls into his typical pompous frown, “You’re too close to this case.”

“What–?”

“As of today, your suspension is over.” He cuts me off, placing my gun and badge on the desk.

“Thank–”

“But you will not be touching this case.” Hazel eyes narrow on me, a familiar lethal look piercing through me, and my chest constricts, my body quivering, but I don’t let him see the fear that has suddenly been dumped into my veins—no matter how potent the adrenaline is.

“I was worried about this the moment you were brought on. It has been clear since day one of your joining the force that rape cases are a trigger for you, and this time, you are allowing your own bias to fuel your investigation. This killer is not the same man who fucked you.” Vicek growls, and my eyes widen at his choice of words, but I don’t let him see my cards. Vicek has always been the very definition of a pig. He takes the wins from everyone else and claims them as his own, and this is no different.

He disgusts me, and he is the most idiotic man on Earth if he thinks I won’t run this case off the record. He may think I am too close to this, and maybe I am, but I have my reasons to be. This isn’t me becoming obsessed with finding my rapist. This is me uncovering the facts that have been overlooked and trampled on so disgustingly by the very people in this department who swore to protect and serve.

“Very well,” I steel myself, reaching for my gun and badge. Before I can grab them, Vicek clutches my hands in his. My breath hitches as he tightens his hold and leans in towards me.

“Watch yourself, Lewis.”

Chapter 35

Mila

The office is quieter today than usual. The typical desks filled with recruits and other junior officers are empty save for one other, Gage McCormick, who is currently typing away frantically while checking over his shoulder periodically toward Vicek’s office. I do the same, my gaze catching with Vicek through the glass door as he sits staring out the window, a frustrated wrinkle beneath his brows and his throat bobs with each gritted response. Clearly, whoever is on the other line is facing his wrath.

For some reason, he woke up today on the wrong side of the bed and has decided to make everyone else’s day a living nightmare.

My mind trails back to the conversation with Kaden the other day. If someone in here is truly messing with the case, are they aiding the killer because they know him? Is that why Vicek is becoming more aggressive each day that goes by?

Focus, Mila.

I need to open my own records. I need to know the staff who saw me that night.

It doesn’t take long to procure my small file with two short pages of report text filled in. Most of the documentation came from the hospital itself, detailing my injuries, the stages of care they provided, and their recommendations.

My heart stutters in my chest as I slowly work my way through the document. By the time I have made it to the rape test results to see who signed off on my care, my vision is a blur with tears. I press the palms of my hands into my eyes, collecting the tears and clearing my vision on a shaky breath.

Rape test, performed by Nurse Francis Holly. Results came back positive. Vagina sustained significant damage, including a recent hymen tear. Antibiotics have been prescribed along with Tylenol three.

Signed: Dr. Mitch Alverez

I can’t look away from the swoops and sharp lines of the doctor’s signature.

Dr. Mitch Alverez.

I rack my brain trying to conjure an image of him, but the black hole that is my memory gives no clue as to what he might look like. I scroll through the document trying to see the handwritten notes I had given to the police, the ones with the vague sketch I had drawn of the man I could remember from the evening. They had said it wouldn’t hold up in court as evidence, considering I couldn’t remember much, but it was a blur, and the memory slowly dissipated over time. When I wrote the statement, I could remember more than I could now. It was fresher, if a little hard to recall, but I had pushed myself to draw him—to relive those moments in order to help aid their investigation. Where the hell are my notes?!

Blinding fury pumps through me, making my hands tremble as I shove back from my desk. Officer McCormick startles, his panicked gaze meeting mine before returning to his work.

I’m going to shred this department limb from limb. I tortured myself for over an hour trying to get everything I could down on paper as the fog of amnesia slowly ate away at the memory. They promised they would do what they could, yet my forgotten file has been left to rot, with crucial evidence missing.

I can’t breathe.

My gaze catches with Vicek’s disgusted sneer, and I respond with one of my own.

I don’t care if he was on my case or not. He was a part of this department at the time. He was supposed to handle files and cases like mine.

I rush out of the bullpen, heading straight for my locker. Before I can head out, I notice a key and a note dangling off of it.

My heart, already galloping with rage in my chest, stutters and skips its beat as I analyze Massimo’s effortless printing. It is so much like him. Demanding, masculine, and calculated. As if his printing understood the assignment, and his persona oozed from the pen rather than the ink.