18
Pryce blinked twice, but Edie was still there. She wasn’t an apparition or a dream. More like a nightmare. The woman he loved, with a zip-tie and a bruised and beaten man on the ground.
“She attacked me. I was trying to be a nice guy and help her get home, and she came at me,” the man on the ground said with a groan. He was a foot taller than Edie and had at least thirty pounds of muscle on her.
Pryce had his doubts about what actually happened, but he was a cop. He was trained to read a situation and see what was in front of him. “What happened?”
“He tried to drug me,” Edie said.
“She’s lying. I didn’t do a damn thing to her. Bought her drinks. You can ask the bartender!”
“He’s done it before. To others. And to me.” Edie looked up at Pryce, the meaning of her words and the plea i
