“What the fuck is going on here?” Sampson said in his deep voice.
She buried her face in his chest. She was shaking so hard that she couldn’t even speak.
She could hear the cop relaying what he knew.
“What the fuck? Your phone is broken?” Sampson drew her gently back. Seemed crazy that a man so big could be gentle, but he could be. He studied her, his face tightening with rage. “Who the fuck hit you? Are you hurt anywhere else?”
“No. Just my face.” Well, her whole body kind of ached but that was probably due to what she’d put it through the last few days.
“I’m going to call Eric and have him come by the house to check on her,” Isaiah said. “Unless you think the hospital would be best?”
“It would,” the officer said.
Sampson looked over at him with a frown. “You were trying to force her into your car?”
“I was going to take her to get checked out and take her statement about who hit her.”
“Why didn’t you tell him to take you to us?” Sampson asked her.
“I tried. He didn’t think I knew Jenner. Just like the guy at the gate.”
“What?” Sampson snapped. “Who’s on the gate?”
“Fred,” Isaiah replied.
“That fucker. You went to the gate and he didn’t let you through?”
“He didn’t believe me when I said I knew Jenner. You can’t blame him.”
“Like fuck I can’t blame him. Least the fucker could do was call through,” Sampson said. “What did he do?”
She wasn’t sure she wanted to tell him.
“Maeve,” Isaiah said warningly.
“He, uh, he told me to leave or he’d call the cops. I asked him when Lyle was on since I knew he would recognize me, but he wouldn’t say. And then . . . then he pushed me.”
“Pushed you!” Sampson roared. “The fucker is dead.”
The cop cleared his throat. “Best not to make death threats in front of a police officer.”
Sampson turned and pointed at him. “You’ll forget you heard that.”
“Sampson,” Isaiah said warningly. “Why don’t we get Maeve into the house, have Eric check her over, and then we can sort everything else out.”
“What about a statement?” the cop asked.
“Her statement is to fuck off,” Sampson snarled.
“Sampson, shit,” Isaiah muttered. Then he turned to her, his face softening. “Think you could give a statement about what’s happened if we’re there?”
“I don’t want to talk to him,” she whispered.
They all knew her problems.
“We’ll talk to Maeve first,” Isaiah said to the officer. “She has her reasons for being wary of the police. We’ll be in touch if we need to.”
The cop looked them over. He was clearly frustrated. “Fine. Can’t force you to do anything.” Shaking his head, he got back into his car.