Chapter 92 At Police Station
**Mia’s POV**
Officer Martinez guided me back toward the squad car. I glanced bak at our apartment building.
“Don’t you want to spare her worry?” Officer Martinez asked, following my gaze. Her badge caught the afternoon sunlight as she shifted, the name “Martinez” gleaming against the metal
“Yeah. She’s still recovering. She doesn’t need this kind of stress right now.” A strange calm settled over me. After everything that had happened. I tell almost detached.
Martinez nodded, “We’ll need you to come to the station thoroughly there.”
“Okay.”
Imake formal statement. The paramedics can examine you more
We reached the patrol car. Taylor was already secured in the back of another vehicle. Martinez followed my gaze. “We’ll charge her with attempted murder, and possibly other offenses, pending ur review of the surveillance footage. The prosecutor will determine the final charges.” She helped me toward the passenger side door. “Do you have a lawyer?”
“Yes. I’ll call them from the station.”
She settled me into the front seat, careful of my injured ankle. “Does the father know about this?”
The question caught me off guard. “Oh..um. No. Not yet.”
Martinez didn’t push, just closed my door and circled around to the driver’s side. As we pulled away, I caught a glimpse of curious neighbors watching from windows and balconies. I’m pretty sure someone definitely made a video.
By tomorrow, this would be all over the neighborhood–all over the news, probably. Kyle would know soon enough.
“First pregnancy?” Martinez asked, her tone conversational as we navigated through traffic.
“Yes.” I shifted, trying to find a comfortable position for my ankle. “Twins, actually.”
She smiled, the expression softening her professional demeanor. “My sister has twins. Double the trouble, double the joy, she always says.”
“That’s what everyone tells me.” I managed a small smile in return. “Were you always a police officer?”
“Fifteen years now.” She expertly maneuvered through an intersection. “Started in patrol, worked my way up to detective, then decided I missed being out on the streets. What about you? What do you do when you’re not dodging cars?”
The casual question helped ground me, pulling me back from the edge of shock. “I’m an architect. Specializing in therapeutic spaces.”
“Like hospitals?”
“Among other things. Right now I’m designing a children’s rehabilitation center.”
Martinez nodded appreciatively. “Important work. Creating spaces where kids can heal.“,
“That’s the goal.” I glanced at the approaching station, its institutional lines stark against the afternoon sky. Reality began sinking in–I was about to file assault charges against my stepsister for trying to kill me. What would Dad say? Would he try to protect Taylor, like he always had?
My phone buzzed in my purse. Nate, with a picture of Gas happily sprawled between his dogs: *Someone’s having the time of his life. When should I bring him home?*
I stared at the screen, momentarily frozen. How could I explain this?
*Something came up. Could he stay with you a little longer? I’ll explain later.*
1/3
Chapter 92 At Police Station
+25 BONUS
His response came quickly: *Of course. Everything okay?*
Thesitated, then typed. *Had a small accident. At police station now. I’m fine.
Three dots appeared immediately, disappeared, trappeared. Finally *Which station? I’m on my way.
*No need. Really. Gas is probably having fun.”
*He is. But I’d feel better checking on you. *
1 sighed, giving in. *Central Precinct on 5th. But seriously, I’m okay*
Martinez pulled into the station parking lot, cutting the engine. “iend of yours?” she asked, nodding toward my phone.
“Yes.” I tucked it away. “He’s watching my dog. ”
“Good. You shouldn’t be alone right now.” She helped me especially with family involved.”
of the car. “Attempted murder cases can get complicated,
The next few hours passed in a blur of paperwork, medical examinations, and formal statements. The emergency room doctor confirmed what the paramedics had suspected–a severe sprain, but thankfully no fracture. He wrapped my ankle tightly, prescribed anti–inflammatory medication that was safe for pregnancy, and recommended elevation and ice.
“Your blood pressure is still higher than I’d like,” he added, studying my chart. “How far along are you?”
‘Almost five months. With twins.”
He made a note. “Any contractions? Unusual movement?”
“No. They’ve been quiet since it happened, but that’s normal for this time of day.”
He nodded. “That’s good. But I want you to call your obstetrician tomorrow and schedule a follow–up, just to be safe. And try to keep that ankle elevated as much as possible.”
A nurse brought crutches, showing me how to use them with my center of gravity shifted by pregnancy. It was awkward, but manageable.
By the time I returned to the detective’s desk to continue my statement, Robert Fisher–my lawyer—had arrived. He rose when he saw me, his normally impassive face showing genuine concern
“Mia. Are you alright?” He pulled out a chair for me, helping me settle with my ankle propped on another seat.
“I’m okay.” I managed a tired smile. “Thanks for coming so quickly.”
“Of course.” He set his briefcase on the desk, removing a legal pad. “I’ve already spoken with Detective Alvarez, about the incident. They have clear surveillance footage of the entire event.
Detective Alvarez–a middle–aged man with salt–and–pepper hair and watchful eyes–nodded. “The video leaves little room for interpretation. Ms. Matthews clearly accelerated directly toward you.”
And I recounted the phone call, the threats, the years of manipulation.
“Did you report any of these incidents?” he asked.
“Some. I have recordings of our most recent phone conversation, which I forwarded to Mr. Fisher as a precaution.”
Robert nodded. “I received them. They establish a clear pattern of harassment and threats.”
“The security footage is clear,” he assured me, “and with the witness statements and Ms. Matthews‘ own comments at the scene, we have plenty of evidence. I recommend applying for a restraining order immediately.”
I nodded, fatigue finally setting in. The adrenaline was completely gone now, leaving me drained and achy. Even the babies seemed exhausted, their usual evening acrobatics notably absent.
Chapter 9 At Police Station
+25 BONUS
Detective Alvarez slid a form across the desk. “This is the restraining order application. We can file it electronically tonight to expedite the process.”
As I filled out the paperwork, my phone buzzed again. Nate, letting me know he was in the waiting area. I’d almost forgotten he was coming.
“My friend is here,” I told Alvarez. “Is it okay if he joins us?”
“Of course.” He signaled to an officer near the door, who disappeared and returned moments later with Nate.
Nate’s expression shifted from concern to carefully controlled anger when he saw my bandaged ankle. He crossed the room quickly, crouching beside my chair.
“What happened?” He kept his voice low, professional, but I could hear the tension underneath.
“Taylor tried to run me over with her car.”
His eyes widened. “Are you serious? Are the babies—”
“Fine,” I assured him. “Just a sprained ankle from jumping out of the way.”
He exhaled slowly, turning to Alvarez. “I’m Dr. Nathaniel Pierce. I’ve been monitoring Mia’s mother’s recovery and consulting on her pregnancy.” He extended his hand, which Alvarez shook firmly.
“Detective Alvarez. We’re just finishing up Ms. Williams‘ statement.”
I caught the use of my maiden name and felt a twinge of gratitude. After everything with Kyle, I’d been using Williams more and
more.
Robert cleared his throat. “There’s one more matter I want to discuss my client, in private.” He glanced at me for permission to continue. Nate nodded to Alvarez and both they left.
I nodded, knowing what was coming. With Taylor’s arrest and the likelihood of this making the news, there was no way to keep my pregnancy secret any longer. Kyle would find out, if not from the media then from his lawyers or private investigators.
I told the Robert, “You must have noticed that I’m pregnant. “I sighed. “Kyle didn’t know about baby. He doesn’t know yet, but once this becomes public…”
He made another note. ‘We need to prepare for potential custody issues. However, given your divorce and his relationship with the defendant, this could work in your favor.”
The thought of a custody battle gave me a headache.
He continued, ‘I’ll send you some documents to refer to.”
The drive home was quiet. Nate had insisted on coming along, following in his car with Gas, who was ecstatic to see me despite his fun day with canine friends. Martinez maintained a professional silence, respecting my exhaustion.
When we finally arrived at my building, the sky had darkened to deep indigo. Television vans were already parked across the street–how had they found out so quickly?
“Great,” I muttered. “Just what I need.”
