“Calm your ass down, West.” Deck’s lips tighten around the words. “I’m just trying to figure out if you know …” A sigh heaves his heavily muscled shoulders.
“Know what, Deck?” I ask impatiently. “Dude, spit it out.”
“There was a file delivered anonymously to Avery today at the station,” Deck says, the words dragging over his lips.
“Okay. What kind of file?”
“This one.” He slides it across the table to me but places his hand on top so I can’t open it. “It’s a file of pictures. Um, pictures of Iris.”
My hand knots into a fist on my leg. “My Iris?”
“Yeah.” Sympathy fills his eyes. “Your Iris.”
“Like … naked pictures?” I try to keep my brain contained in my skull. “Give me the file, Deck.”
“Not naked.” He keeps his hand over the file and blows out an extended breath. “Pictures of her beaten pretty badly. And some medical records that detail … a pattern of abuse.”
“Abuse?” The word, ugly and harsh, shouldn’t even be in the same sentence as her name. “Like when she was young? Like someone touched her or …”
“No, not when she was young. More, um, recent.” His look offers sympathy. “You didn’t know?”
Decker and I stare at each other. I know what’s in that file. Maybe I’ve known all along and didn’t want to accept that it could have happened to her. Too many things that didn’t add up suddenly stand in perfectly straight columns and equal a horrific sum.
“Caleb?” The name is strangled in my throat. “Are you saying Caleb hurt her? He put his hands on her?” I stab the file on the table with my index finger, rage pistoning through my body. “Is that what’s in here?” I grit out. “That motherfucker hurt my girl?”
“Yes.” He lifts his hand from the file. “Before you look at this, consider something. Iris probably had her reasons for not telling you.”
“She said she signed an NDA. That was the only way she could guarantee sole custody of Sarai.”
“Yeah, well that makes sense.” He draws a deep breath and expels it. “Considering what’s in it, she probably never wanted it to come to light anyway. I need to tell you something else.”
“What else?” I stand and pace in tight circles, driving my hands into my hair. “What is it, Deck?”
“August, he … he raped her pretty brutally.”
God, no.
I stop, stock still, turning only my head in careful inches to make sure I heard him right.
“He …he raped her?” My voice can’t make it past a whisper. “Caleb?”
I honestly can’t remember the last time I cried, really cried, but tears burn my eyes and blur my vision. My chest feels concave, like it collapsed on itself and is crushing my heart. My hands tremble when I link them behind my neck. I’m holding on—to my sanity, to my composure—but everything’s slipping through my fingers.
“Fuck!” I scream it so loud, conversations in the lobby stop, and all eyes turn to me. I don’t care. I’m spiraling, thinking of that son of a bitch violating Iris. Of him abusing her. Beating her. I kick the table, and it spins a few feet into the path of a couple walking to the elevators. I turn to the wall and punch it, denting the lobby wallpaper. Denting my hand. My knuckles swell and redden immediately.
“August, stop it.” Deck grabs my arm, his frown stern. “We don’t have time for tantrums.”
“Tantrum?” I croak, my voice like sandpaper. “If someone raped Avery, someone beat her, what would you do?”
He goes quiet, a flare of violence in his eyes. “I’d want to kill them.”
“Right. Then let me go find Caleb.”
“But I hope I’d have at least one friend who would stop me,” he says. “Look, Caleb’s going to get his. That file didn’t just go to Avery’s station. It went to every major station.”
“Shit.” I drag my hands over my face. “This’ll be a media circus.”
“Yeah. You might want to sort through all your feelings later and worry about Iris right now. I think Avery was one of the first to get it, but there’ll be reporters and TV cameras at Iris’s door very soon, if not already.”