Merkaba, a supernatural suspense series (Walk the Right Road, Book 3) by Lorhainne Eckhart

brushed off by the desk clerk behind the glass at the Sequim detachment.
    “Sir, if you’ll leave your name and number, I’ll have one of the officers on the case contact you.” The man behind the glass partition wore a black uniform and sported a very thick mustache.
    “No, I would like to know the name of the officer investigating, and then I’ll wait. So please don’t try to brush me off.” Patrick didn’t move and refused to leave as he glared at the officer behind the glass, who finally sighed before pulling open a drawer and rifling through papers.
    “When was the date of the offence?” the man asked with little emotion.
    “It was yesterday, and it was attempted murder.”
    The officer frowned and dug through the papers before pulling out a file. “What I have is a report of a domestic dispute, not attempted murder.” The desk clerk frowned, sliding his chair back, and then glanced around Patrick. “Hey, Diane, do you have a second for this guy?”
    A female cop had just come in the front door. “Sure, what’s up?” she said.
    “This gentleman is asking about that domestic disturbance yesterday at the motel.”
    Patrick crossed his arms and glared at the guy behind the glass, wanting to set him straight. He expected the same brush-off from the lady, but she frowned and leaned on the counter next to him.
    “Can I help you?” She gazed at Patrick.
    “I’m the father of Alecia, the victim. Her mother and I flew in, and I want to know what’s going on, what leads you have to track down Brian. And my big question is why it’s labeled as a domestic disturbance when he had every intention of killing her.”
    Dian’s eyes widened, and she straightened. “George, open the door,” she said. The guy behind the glass pushed a button, and the door that led into the station buzzed. Diane pulled the door open. “Follow me.”
    Patrick followed the short, solid cop, who was dressed casually in blue jeans and a jean jacket. She led him to a sterile office in back and shut the door. There was a table with chairs, and he looked around, wondering if the door was locked.
    Diane had a file that Patrick hadn’t noticed in her hands. She pulled a small notebook from her pocket and flipped it open. She glanced up and over at the chair across from her. “Sit down. I get nervous when angry fathers hover over me.”
    Patrick pulled out the chair, a ways back, and sat, stretching his long, jean-clad legs out in front of him. “Tell me, why are you labeling this a domestic disturbance when that bastard tried to kill my daughter?”
    She sat up straight and pressed her back into the chair. She glanced toward the door and pressed her lips together, appearing annoyed. “Unfortunately, this is the policy when a spouse beats up his partner. It’s viewed as domestic assault, and it wasn’t my call.” She glanced down at her notes, avoiding eye contact.
    He knew she was hiding something. “Let me get this straight. A man my daughter was involved with over a year ago in Boston, a man who I’ve chased away and who she’s had no contact with for over a year, tracks her down here and breaks into her motel room, and he beats her up. If it wasn’t for another man breaking in and pulling him off, he would have killed her, and you guys see it as domestic disturbance?” he shouted.
    Diane glared up at him. “Watch your tone. I can understand your frustration, but unfortunately, most women go back over and over to a bad situation, and, most times, they revoke their earlier statements of assault, so most jurisdictions don’t take it seriously. They expect women to go back, for it to be a waste of time. The fact that Brian wasn’t a stranger, and that your daughter was involved with him and had many incidents prior in which she didn’t press charges against him, worked against her.” She held Patrick’s gaze with one that was equally irritated.
    “Where did you get this information? It isn’t entirely true. I thought I