Chapter 3: The Dressing Suite Statement
I didn't see Vanessa give her statement. I heard it in pieces while I was lying on an exam table with my arm open.
The ER at County General smelled like bleach and old coffee. A nurse cut the strap of my sequined gown to get to my forearm. The glass had left a clean, deep line just below my elbow and three smaller cuts across my hand where I'd tried to catch myself. I could hear the gala still on my phone where Marcus had left it on speaker before the paramedics loaded me in.
"You need to keep still, hon," the nurse said. Her hands were steady. She pressed gauze down and I watched the blood come through white.
A county sheriff's deputy stepped in before the doctor did. He couldn't have been more than twenty-five, his uniform still creased from the package, holding a little notepad that looked too small for his hands.
"Mrs. Rourke? I'm Deputy Ellis. Do you feel up to giving a quick statement? We got a call from the foundation tower about an altercation."
That was the word he used. Altercation.
I nodded. My mouth was dry. "Yes."
He clicked his pen. "Can you tell me what happened in the hallway?"
I tried to keep it simple. "Vanessa Grant was standing over me. She had my shoe. She said, 'You deserve this.' She raised it over her head. My husband came in and stopped her."
He wrote that down exactly. "And the glass? How'd you get cut?"
"There was broken glass on the floor. I fell on it when—" I had to pause because the doctor came in and lifted the gauze. "When I went down."
The doctor didn't look up. "We need four stitches here, maybe five. Local anesthetic. You'll feel a pinch."
Deputy Ellis kept his eyes on my face. "Mrs. Grant told hotel security something different. She said you threw a glass at her during an argument and she picked up the shoe to defend herself."
The needle went in then. I flinched. The nurse put a hand on my shoulder.
"I didn't throw anything," I said. My voice was quieter than I wanted it to be. "We were in the hallway. A glass broke. I was on the floor. She was holding my shoe over me."
He didn't argue. He just wrote. "Do you want to press charges?"
I looked at the ceiling tiles. "I want what happened to be on record."
He nodded. "That's a yes for now. We'll open an inquiry. The camera footage will help."
My phone buzzed on the metal tray beside me. Marcus.
I answered with my good hand. "Hey."
"Elena? Where are you?" His voice was tight, like he was walking fast. In the background I could hear a man's voice and the beep of a keycard reader.
"ER exam three," I said. "They're stitching me."
A pause. "Vanessa's in the dressing suite. She told Carol and the hotel security manager you came at her. That you threw a champagne flute and cut her hand and she only grabbed the shoe because she was scared."
Carol was Carol Finch, the gala chair. She'd hugged me two hours earlier when they announced the donor total.
"Did they believe her?" I asked.
"I don't know what they believe," Marcus said. "Hotel security has her written statement. Carol signed as witness. The deputy will have yours. So now there's two."
The doctor pulled the thread through. I felt the tug more than pain.
Marcus kept talking. "I'm in the security office. I told them to pull the dome camera right away. The guard showed me the live feed, it's blinking red, it's recording, but the file's not local. It's cloud. It needs two passwords. Foundation IT has one, the hotel manager has the other. The manager went home, IT guy won't release without Vanessa's sign-off because she's co-chair. They're saying morning at earliest."
I closed my eyes. "So no one can see it tonight."
"No. But it's locked. No one can delete it either without both keys. I told them if anyone touches that server I'm calling our lawyer."
Deputy Ellis was listening. He tapped his notepad. "Sir? This is Deputy Ellis. You're Mr. Rourke? Can you make sure that footage is preserved? I'm opening an assault inquiry, case number will be with dispatch."
Marcus answered, "It's preserved. I'll stay until they log it."
The doctor tied the last stitch and covered it with a clean white bandage. The deputy slipped his card onto the tray beside my phone.
"Mrs. Rourke, both statements are on file now," he said. "Hers says self-defense. Yours says assault. The video will decide. Don't talk to Mrs. Grant directly until we review it, okay?"
I nodded. My hand was shaking a little from the anesthetic.
When he left, the nurse helped me sit up. My dress was ruined, the sequins catching the fluorescent light. Through the thin curtain I could hear another patient coughing and a TV playing low in the waiting room.
May you like
Marcus's voice was still on the phone. "I'm coming to you. Don't go anywhere."
I held the phone tighter with my good hand and stared at the bandage. Somewhere across town Vanessa was sitting in the private dressing suite in her magenta gown, with a signed statement that said I did it first, and the only thing that could prove otherwise was a little white dome on the ceiling with a blinking red light that no one was allowed to open yet.
