Free Sea Witch by Virginia Kantra Page A

but
    him.

    He fisted his hands in his pockets. “Yeah.”

    She lifted one shoulder in a shrug before lowering obediently to the
    table. The paper crinkled under her as she moved.

    The rape kit was open on the counter, vials and slides in a neat row.
    Caleb had never been in the room during a pelvic before. His ex-wife,
    Sherilee, had never even discussed her appointments with him except to
    complain. “ Men have it easy ,” she’d said. “ You have no idea .”

    She’d been right.

    70

    He had worked rape cases in Portland, always waiting outside the
    curtained cubical to take possession of the evidence and question the
    victims. Not that he didn’t care about them. He did. But he’d never been
    forced to witness this second assault on their bodies and their dignity, to
    imagine how it must feel to lie on your back with your feet in metal
    stirrups while some stranger sat between your open thighs.

    Increasingly uncomfortable, he watched as Donna swabbed and
    combed and probed. Maggie endured the exam in stoic silence, her eyes
    veiled.

    Maybe he should have taken her to the hospital on the mainland, he
    thought now that it was too late. She was stabilized. There would have
    been somebody, a trained nurse, a victims’ advocate, to comfort her. To
    hold her hand. To do all the things he couldn’t do.

    She inhaled sharply and grabbed his forearm.

    Stunned, he stared at her grip on his arm, her slim, pale fingers, their
    nails short and shining as shells on the beach. Her wrist was mottled
    purple and red.

    She had fought him, Caleb remembered. On the sand, writhing and
    clawing under him. He had to hold her down.

    Guilt burned under his breastbone.

    Cautiously, he covered her small hand with his much larger one.
    How could she bear for him to touch her? But she didn’t pull away.

    With his thumb, he gently stroked her bruise over and over.

    “All right now.” Donna turned from the sink holding the speculum.
    “I want you to try to relax.”

    Relax ? Caleb’s belly tightened again. Jesus .

    Maggie took one look at the gleaming metal implement and bolted
    upright on the table. “No.”

    Hell, no , he agreed silently.

    71

    Which was stupid. He was thinking like a man—a man who cared
    about her—instead of like a cop.

    “Would you feel better if Chief Hunter left the room?” the doctor
    asked.

    “I would feel better ”—Maggie bit the words out—“if I left.”

    So would Caleb. Unfortunately, even if Maggie refused the pelvic,
    they weren’t finished yet.

    He turned to Donna. “How much more do you need?”

    The doctor frowned. “We don’t have the equipment for a CT scan,
    but I should take X-rays. She needs stitches, of course. I have to draw a
    blood test for STDs and take more samples for the rape kit.”

    Maggie snarled. “I was not raped.”

    The possibility shook Caleb.

    He reminded himself she could still be in shock. Or in denial. But
    faced with her fierce certainty, he allowed himself to doubt. To hope. If
    she wasn’t raped . . .

    “What about her external injuries?” he asked Donna.

    “Aside from the head wound?” Donna pursed her lips.

    “Those abrasions on her wrists are certainly consistent with a
    struggle.”

    Caleb winced. Whatever she needed to hear to provide care, he
    reminded himself.

    “I had to restrain her,” he said.

    The doctor’s eyes cooled. “So you bruised her wrists?”

    “I bit him,” Maggie volunteered.

    The temperature in the room dropped another twenty degrees.

    72

    “I really think it would be best if I spoke to Miss—to Maggie alone,”
    Donna said.

    “Why?” Maggie demanded.

    “The doctor wants to be sure I’m not the one who hit you,” Caleb
    said in a carefully neutral voice.

    “That is stupid,” Maggie said.

    “No.” Caleb spoke slowly, his gaze never leaving the doctor’s. “It
    makes good sense. We’ve admitted to a relationship. I bring you in here
    injured, confused, with no recollection of