The bartender shrugged. “Happened just like Carl said it did.”
“You bitch,” Hannah said. She was breathing hard. She wanted to stand up. She felt way too vulnerable there on the floor, but she had one protective hand on Sean and she couldn’t leave him. She cast about, looking for support and finding none. People were staring, sure, but she could tel by their faces that no one was going to get involved. Sam was there, looking shocked and scared, standing far away from the scene.
“You keep talking like that, young lady, and we’l have to bring you in too,” Pierce said. He made a gesture to his officers, who stepped forward.
Sean pushed himself up to sitting. One of his eyes was already swol en closed. He was cradling one hand to his chest.
“Sean?”
He tried to focus on her, couldn’t. “Hannah? Let’s get out of here.”
His voice was thick, and he had to swal ow twice to finish the sentence.
“I don’t think so,” the sheriff said. “We’re taking you in. Carl here wil be pressing charges, won’t you, Carl?”
“I sure wil .”
The officers stepped around Hannah, grabbed Sean under his arms and heaved him to his feet. Sean groaned, turned his head, and vomited. One of the officers swore in disgust as some of the vomit splattered on his shoes.
“Get him out of here,” the sheriff said.
Hannah stood up. “You can’t do this. He needs to go to the hospital. You can’t do this.” But the officers were already dragging Sean toward the door. He cast one look over his shoulder as they took him through the doorway, and Hannah’s last glimpse of him was of that frightened, battered face. Sean, who was so good. Sean, who was so warm and so clever. Fury boiled up inside her. She stepped up to the sheriff, chin raised high.
“I know who you are,” she said. “You think this bul shit is going to scare us off? You have no idea.” Her hand was in his face, pointing, aggressive. She laughed, laughed in his face, though she was crying too. “You have no idea who you’re dealing with.”
Initial y Pierce stared down at her, a look of sneering amusement painted on his face. But as she continued to rant at him the amusement disappeared and his expression changed to something vicious. He stepped forward, looming over her, and despite herself, Hannah took a step back. She was absolutely sure that he was going to hit her. Then she felt someone grab her arm and pul her away.
“Come on, Hannah,” said Sam. “Come on.”
Sean’s car keys had fal en onto the floor. She shook Sam off and bent to pick them up.
Pierce looked between Hannah and Sam and back again. “You should know better, Samuel, than to spend time with the likes of these people. Your grandfather is on the way to pick you up. I hope you have an explanation ready for him.” Pierce turned on his heel and walked for the door.
“You get Sean a doctor,” Hannah said. “You get him a fucking doctor, you hear me?” The door closed behind him and Hannah col apsed in on herself, sobbing. Sam moved his hand on her arm, stepped forward as if to comfort her.
“Hannah, I’m so sorry, I—”
She wrenched her arm from his grasp. “No,” she said. “No. Fuck you.” She stepped back, away from him. Every face in the bar was looking at her, and none of them were friendly. “I’m going to make you al pay,” she said. “Every single one of you.” The threat felt empty. She picked up her bag and coat from the back of the chair she had sat on when she’d eaten dinner with Sean just an hour before, and she turned and made for the door.
Hannah
FIFTEEN
SATURDAY, AUGUST 31, 2019
Hannah burst out of the bar and into the parking lot. She saw the brake lights of a police car as it disappeared into the distance. Her hands were shaking as she fumbled with her phone. Her mind was blank . . . who could help her at eleven P.M. on a Friday night? She rang the number of the Project offices but no one answered. She didn’t have Rob Parekh’s cel number, but she did have Camila’s.
She tried Camila’s number once, twice, then a third time. No answer.
Shit. She was crying for real now. She hadn’t cried in years and years and now she couldn’t stop. She heard the doors open behind her and turned to see Sam coming out with his friends. They stood and stared at each other for a moment, and then Hannah turned away, started walking fast toward the highway. She couldn’t drive; she’d had two beers and she wasn’t stupid enough to give Pierce an excuse to pul her over. She would have to leave the car. She cal ed an Uber—she was tapping the accept ride button and standing at the entrance to the bar’s parking lot when a truck swept by. She got a glimpse of Sam’s face, pale and strained, staring at her from the passenger seat, and then they were gone. It took ten minutes for the car to arrive. She spent those minutes cal ing Camila’s phone number and sending group emails from her phone to the entire Project team, begging for someone, anyone, to cal her as soon as they got the messages. She thought about the men who had attacked Sean in the bar. They were stil inside. If they came out, if they saw her standing there alone, what would they do? When the car final y arrived, she al but threw herself into the backseat and answered the driver in monosyl ables. She wanted to go back to the inn, as quickly as possible. Beyond that she didn’t want to talk.