Noah’s Journey(37)

“Keep your hands where we can see them at all times. Do not make any attempt to reach or retrieve any item within the vehicle,” I directed.

Ryan remained in place, his eyes locked securely on the person, ready to act if necessary.

I reached for the handle of the door, still holding my gun firmly in my right hand. Ever so slowly, I opened the door, and when the passenger turned and looked up at me, my heart sank.

The girl couldn’t have been more than eighteen or maybe twenty, and her face was battered and bruised, showing obvious signs of abuse.

Chills covered my arms and legs, and I slowly lowered my gun and took a step closer to the vehicle. “We’re not gonna hurt you,” I assured her.

Her lower lip trembled, but she nodded.

“Did you come here alone?” I asked, and she nodded once again. “What’s your name?”

“Trinity,” she whispered in a shaky breath.

“Okay, Trinity, I’m gonna reach out and help you from the car.” I had no intentions of scaring this young girl any more than she already was. My heart broke for her. Her story couldn’t be a happy one.

Slowly, I reached out, and she placed her hand in mine. I allowed her to move at her own pace, giving her control.

Trinity kept her other hand out in plain sight, following my earlier orders. “I think my ankle may be broken,” she said and winced as she refrained from placing her left foot on the ground. “It hurts to put pressure on it, and it’s pretty swollen too.”

“I’m just going to step around you and allow you to lean on me as I move you to the patrol car,” I explained.

A look of panic covered her face, and she hobbled back, still keeping her hands visible. “Am I under arrest?” She began to shake, and that’s when Ryan rounded the car.

“Sweetheart, we have no reason to arrest you. We’re here to help you, but you’re gonna have to let us know how we can do that.” The look of worry on Ryan’s face mirrored my own.

“I don’t think anyone can help me. I’ve tried to get help, but it only made him angrier.”

That information only pissed me off more. Some man had obviously put the fear of God into this impressionable, frail girl. “Trinity, I can assure you that we will help you. If someone has hurt you, we promise to not let that happen again. But you have to give us a little help here. Tell us who you’re afraid of.” I needed her to understand she could trust us.

Her uneasy gaze shifted between Ryan and me for a few moments before she finally spoke.

“My husband,” she whispered.

She didn’t look old enough to be married.

“We’ve only been married for three months,” she added. “He never hit me before, but after our wedding night, things changed. I left three days ago, and I was just gonna drive until I found a place to hide out.” She shrugged. “Not a great plan, I know, but I had to leave. Then the car broke down and I crawled in the backseat, deciding that if he found me, there was nothing I could do.”

“There is something you can do,” Ryan told her. “Let us help you.”

She nodded once again as tears began to fall down her cheeks.

We locked up her car, and with Ryan on one side of her and me on the other, we led her toward the cruiser.



***



“She was just hiding in the backseat of her car alone?” Alena asked as she sat down on the barstool next to me.

I nodded, remembering just how sad and lonely Trinity looked when she first raised her head. Trinity Flores was twenty-one, and so far her young life had been terrible. When she was sixteen, her drug-addicted mother abandoned her. She lived with random friends after that, and some nights on the street. That was until she met Michael Westerfield, a twenty-eight-year-old from Dillon. He had a long record of battery and abuse that he neglected to tell Trinity about. She was young and looking for security, and when he made her feel as if he could offer her that, she fell for his lies.

Now she was paying the price.

After a few hours at the station, going over detail after detail of the horror she had endured, we issued an arrest warrant through the Dillion Police Department. A while later, they notified us they’d picked up Mr. Westerfield and were detaining him on domestic battery and sexual assault charges.

Trinity would live with the hell Michael had put her through for the rest of her life, and she would fear men and their intentions. And that thought made my chest feel hollow.

I texted Alena when my shift ended, and Ryan did the same with Amber. After a day like we had, we needed a drink. Both girls promised to meet us at Roger’s, our go-to place when we needed to get shitfaced.

“So where is she now?” Alena asked from my left as I lifted the beer to my mouth.