Free Foul Justice by MA Comley

there?”
    “Shit.”
    Lorne heard a fair amount of shuffling coming from inside the loo. “Are you coming out?” she prompted gently.
    Silence filled the cold, echoing room. Sighing heavily, Lorne tried again, her patience waning. “I said, ‘Are you—’”
    The bolt sounded on the door, and it eased open. The left side of her face showing in the gap, Katy said, “Sorry ma’am. I’ve been sick. Thought I’d be all right for work, but…”
    Something told Lorne that her sergeant wasn’t telling her the truth. She stepped up to the cubicle and pushed the door back. “Oh my God! What the hell happened to you?”
    Ashamed, Katy’s head dropped. She walked past Lorne and over to the sink. Resting her hands on the porcelain sink, she raised her head up to the cracked mirror above.
    Lorne patiently waited for the sergeant to tell her why she had a black eye, a beauty at that. When she sensed no response was imminent, she placed her hand on the younger woman’s arm.
    Katy flinched and stepped sideways.
    “Katy, it’s all right. Come on. Tell me who did it?”
    “I can’t,” Katy mumbled.
    “Why on earth not? Were you mugged? Didn’t you see your attacker? Did they come at you from behind?”
    With each question, the sergeant shook her head, which only caused Lorne to be more confused. She might’ve been an excellent detective, but her psychic skills were in serious doubt.
    Softly, she asked, “Was it someone you know, Katy?”
    The sergeant’s gaze remained focused on the floor in front of her, and Lorne suspected she’d just given herself the answer.
    “Do you want to press charges, love?” Memories of her own abusive marriage to Tom made her reach out to the young sergeant. She knew what it was like to live a lie, to pretend to those around you that everything was hunky-dory at home, when nothing was further from the truth. At least she’d had the foresight and courage to get out of her marriage before it had escalated to anything as bad as what Katy was obviously going through.
    “I couldn’t,” the sergeant said, eventually finding her voice.
    “Why?”
    “I just can’t. It was my fault,” Katy said, avoiding eye contact with Lorne.
    Lorne exhaled a deep breath. How many times had she heard that over the years when dealing with abused wives or girlfriends? Too many. The abused always blamed themselves, believing what their abusive partners had told them during their beatings, often having to deal with numerous violent beatings that in the worst cases left the woman hospitalized, sometimes fighting for her life on a ventilator.
    “Nothing you could’ve done would warrant a beating like that, love. Nothing. Come on, talk to me.” She tried to give the younger woman a smile to reassure her, but Katy’s vision remained glued to the ground.
    “I can’t,” she repeated. Her right foot made a circle on the tiled floor in front of her.
    “Okay. You know what I told you about my door always being open? That still stands.”
    “Thanks, I appreciate that, but I’ll be fine. I can deal with it.”
    Lorne slammed her hip against the sink and folded her arms. “You don’t look ‘fine.’ I’d suggest you take the day off, but on second thought, I think I’d probably be sending you back home for another beating. Did your boyfriend do this?”
    Continuing to toe the floor, Katy gave a brief but reluctant nod.
    “Does he make a habit of doing this?”
    “This is the second time.”
    “Is that why you were transferred?” Lorne asked as the mystery behind why the new sergeant had moved slotted into place. Did Sean Roberts know about her background? Did the super come to that conclusion too? Had they transferred her for her own safety, since she was unwilling to press charges against the bastard?
    Katy shrugged, neither confirming nor denying in response.
    “What do you want to do, Katy?”
    “Ma’am?” she replied, her eyes finally meeting Lorne’s.
    “Is he at your