“There, there, none of that,” he muttered, turning dangerously red. “Let’s push through. When the case goes to court, it might be heard by a judge, or it may go to a jury, depending on what the defendant prefers. It’s not compulsory for you to speak at the hearing, but it would be best if you did.”
She swallowed. “I can manage that.”
“Okay.” He continued. “The restraining order will be handled separately, and you can get that underway as soon as your lawyer is available.” He cleared his throat. “Considering she’s your mother, I should imagine that’s very soon. Once she’s completed the paperwork, Mr. Wentworth will be advised and will have a chance to respond. After that, a court date will be set for a judge to determine whether to grant the order. You’ll need to attend that session in person.”
The mere thought of heading back to Auckland again made her spirits sink. Now that she’d gotten some distance from the city, she realized how little she actually cared for it. She’d much rather be in a place like Haven Bay, which had character, and where everyone was a potential friend.
“I can do that.” It would be a small price to pay for having Charles out of her life, especially if it helped put him far away from other women.
Elliot rummaged in his pockets and drew out a camera. “Can you show me your arms?”
She held them out, turning the pale insides of her forearms—where the bruises were more visible—upward. He took several pictures, then also snapped one of her face, and several of the smudges ringing her neck.
“Do you mind if I capture one of your ribs?” he asked. “To show how long the healing process takes.”
Standing, she glanced at Tione, hoping he’d volunteer to look the other way because she didn’t want him to see the mess of her torso, even if it was much better than this time last week. Unfortunately, he seemed riveted to her. With trepidation, she lifted the hem of her shirt and turned to show Elliot her left side, which was the most battered. She didn’t need to look at her skin to know it was a mottled patchwork of yellow and brown. The quick intakes of breath told her the men were shocked. Megan looked to Kat, who’d already seen the bruising, and who watched her with sympathy but not horror.
Elliot cleared his throat. “That sonofabitch.”
The camera clicked as he photographed her, but she kept her attention on Kat and ignored Tione, even though she could feel him trying to catch her gaze. She couldn’t stand to see the pity in his eyes.
“Done.”
She dropped her shirt and sat. “Thanks.”
“Kat, you’ll email me the other photos?” he asked.
“As soon as I’m back in my room,” she agreed.
“Good. Megan?”
She blinked a few times to refocus, and looked at Elliot. “Yes?”
“If you see him again, I want you to call me immediately. Here’s my number.” He handed her a card, and she tucked it into her pocket. “In the meantime, I’ll get things moving on my end, and you call your mum to get the restraining order underway.” He stood, but gestured at the others to remain seated. “I’d better head back to the station, but you’ll be hearing from me soon.”
“Thank you,” she said, meaning it one hundred percent.
He dismissed her gratitude. “Just doing my job.”
“I’ll head back over to the lodge, too.” Kat bent to kiss Megan’s cheek. Her dark eyes were filled with concern. “You’ll let me know if you need me?”
She nodded, and Kat followed Elliot out, leaving her and Tione alone. Strangely, the room seemed more crowded when they were gone, rather than emptier. She moved to the armchair to put some space between them, and eyed him cautiously. His hands were clenched at his side, the cords of his forearms threatening to burst out through his skin.
“I can’t believe he did that to you,” he growled. “I can’t believe anyone would hurt you like that.” His voice became so gravelly she could hardly understand him. His chest heaved as he breathed, visibly trying to calm himself. “Why would anyone want to?” He dropped to a whisper. “You’re so sweet. So gentle. I can’t get my head around what a sick fuck he must be to have beat you like that.” He yanked a hand through his hair. “How did he do it? Did he kick you while you were down?” Going to her, he fell to his knees, his hands resting on each arm of her chair. “Tell me. I need to know.”
Megan felt his anger like a weight on her chest. “Knowing won’t help,” she told him. “And that’s not the image I want you to have of me.”
He took her hands, and his were cold and clammy. She rubbed them between her own, amazed that she was the one comforting him.
“I need to know,” he repeated, his dark eyes burning into hers. “I don’t think any less of you for what happened. That’s on him. You’re strong and smart. You were planning a way out. None of this is your fault.”
She blinked back tears. “You really mean that?”
“Hell, yeah. So tell me.”
She coughed to clear the thickness in the back of her throat. “He kicked me when I was on the ground. I was near to passing out so I couldn’t get away. I just curled up and took it.”
His throat worked when he swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing. “I want to rip his head off.”