Chapter 7 - The Shadows in the Ward
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At eight o'clock the following morning, the door to my room opened, admitting a tall woman in a sharp grey wool coat. She walked with a stiff, measured cadence that signaled military or law enforcement training.
It was Detective Elena Ward.
She stood at the foot of my bed, pulling a small yellow notepad from her coat pocket. Her sharp brown eyes scanned my bandaged face, my heart monitor, and the empty IV lines with clinical detachment.
"Ms. Carter," Detective Ward spoke, her voice low and raspy. "I'm Detective Ward from the NYPD Special Victims Division. Your nurse mentioned you regained consciousness briefly last night."
I slowly opened my left eye, letting my gaze drift toward her with deliberate, vacant confusion.
"Detective..." I rasped softly, making my voice wobble. "Where... where is Logan?"
Ward took a step closer, tapping her pen against the notepad. "Mr. Vance is currently downstairs addressing the press corps. He’s been here all night, Ms. Carter. He's very concerned about you."
I watched her closely. I noticed the subtle way her eyes flicked toward the ceiling corner where a small security camera blinked its blue standby light. I also noticed the high-end designer leather watch resting on her wrist—a thirty-thousand-dollar piece that no city detective’s salary could ever afford.
Rachel was right. Ward was on Victor Mercer's payroll.
"Do you remember anything about the attack, Maya?" Ward asked, leaning slightly over the bed railing. "The street? The assailant? Did you see his face?"
I let out a soft, frightened whimper, turning my face toward the window.
"It was... it was so dark," I sobbed quietly, squeezing my eye shut. "Someone called my name. I turned around... and then everything was fire. I didn't see anyone. I don't remember anything after leaving the dress shop."
A subtle wave of relief washed across Ward’s features. She quickly scribbled a few meaningless lines on her notepad.
"That's completely normal with traumatic events," Ward said smoothly, her tone almost soothing. "Trauma often erases the immediate memories surrounding an assault. Don't force it. We have officers looking into local surveillance footage."
"Will... will Logan be okay?" I whimpered, playing the devoted, tragic victim to perfection. "He must be so heartbroken."
"He's devastated," Ward lied without blinking. "Just rest, Ms. Carter. We'll handle everything."
May you like
She turned and exited the room. Through the crack in the door, I saw her pull out her cell phone and make an immediate call.
I knew who she was calling. Victor Mercer.
