THE COP

Through drowsy eyes, Anastacia watched Magnan Pierce, the stocky middle-aged Chef burst through the doors, running to her.

"I didn't do it," Anastacia muttered through clenched teeth. Her face hurt and the ache in her body kept her from raising her hand to rub it.

Just like it had happened earlier, she had no idea when the words escaped her mouth. Maybe being discovered here, alive and well with a dead body nearby filled her with anxiety.

She needed to stay calm, tell the truth or at least part of it and she would be fine.

"No. You didn't," Magnan said, trying to help her up. "I believe you but the cops won't and in a few minutes, this place will be flooded. I need to hear the long and short of what happened."

Anastasia shook her head again. She stretched her hand in the direction her attacker had gone, muttering indecipherably.

The door clanged again. Three men burst from the doors and ran to the duo on the ground. Their jackets had the Club's sceptre logo emblazoned on them. It was security.

Their mouths gaped open at the sight. "Magnan? Are you okay? What happened here?"

Magnan turned to them. "She saw someone here and is still in shock. You might want to check ahead," she said, pointing her hand in the same direction Anastacia had shown her.

Their high-intensity torches flicker in the smoky haze as they follow the direction of her fingers. Magnan whispered to Anastacia.

"What do we have here?" The high-pitched voice of the guard carried through to the rest of the yard, halting their good-natured conversation.

"Don't touch him." His partner growled. "The cops are likely on their way and you don't want your prints on that."

A shrill whistle from one of the guards broke the silence of the night. "There has been a murder at the east wing of the premises. Enforce a lockdown immediately till the cops arrive. No one enters and no one leaves. Over and Out."

"Is he dead?" Chef Pierce asked. Her stern eyes bored holes into his, giving him no option but to respond.

"Yeah. His coat was flung to the ground a few steps away. I have no clue as to what transpired so I believe we would have to wait for sleeping beauty here," his fingers pointed to Anastasia's unconscious figure.

"The Cops are on their way too. For now, all I know is that he wouldn't have made it out of here alive even if he had gotten into that pool."

There was an awe in his voice as he spoke. Magnan nodded at him, watching him walk back to join his colleagues. Her third tap roused Anastacia.

Everything stopped. The colours and shapes blurred into each other as her eyes flickered open.

"You are okay!" Magnan's voice echoed loudly in her head and she put her hands against her temple.

Damn it. "I genuinely have no idea about what transpired."

"The cops will have a hard time believing that. Except you want to get locked up in some mental institution till the haze clears, then you should start thinking fast." Magnan responded.

"I didn't set him ablaze."

"Hmmm. There was a third person here?"

She shook her head. "No. It was just us. He attacked me."

Magnan's face fell. She frowned and peered at her curiously. "That doesn't explain the dead body lying a few metres away, Anastacia. You have to trust me and talk to me. I am here to help you."

She sighed softly and let her mind drift. The oversized suit crept into her thoughts. His red-rimmed eyes, with the round spectacles sitting on a bulbous nose, the blood-curdling scream that erupted shortly before the blue flames spread…

When she opened her eyes, Magnan Pierce was looking down at her eagerly. "He appeared behind me around the backdoor, when I was ready to leave,"

The Chef didn't take her eyes off her.

She ran her hand through her hair, cursing underneath her breath. "He attacked me. He was going to rape me so he dragged me here. Threatening me not to scream because the effort was futile and he would hurt me if I tried."

Magnan raised her finger. "Do you know who he is?"

"I've never seen him before today. Not as a private client and not even among the group of men that would reach to grope or touch me. His face isn't one I'd forget."

It wasn't unusual to get attacked by an irate customer or an obsessed client who thought that a wink meant more than it did, a psycho that imagined he could change her and relished the idea of spending the rest of his life with a reformed stripper with or without her consent. However, this stranger was an outlier. One that didn't fit into any of the categories of possible risk factors she faced.

To circumvent these risks, the club had hired a capable security team that comprised trained newbies and a few ex-servicemen with clean records.

"I screwed up," Anastacia rubbed her palm against her temple to ease the tension she felt. There was remorse in her caramel eyes. "I should have gone with the others,"

"It's okay. This isn't the time to steer off by letting the past interfere with what is going on now. Take a deep breath and continue."

Anastasia palmed her face. "He grabbed me and brought me here. Said I would have known him before this time if I had paid attention to the folks who tipped me the most."

"Sounds like an asshole and the world could sincerely use less of them right now."

Anastacia's lips stretched in a small smile. "He'd ordered me to strip. It got me upset. One second, his hand was wrapped around my neck threateningly, and the next it was beating at the flames that had erupted on his body."

Her eyes searched Magnan's for a minute. "It's fine if you don't believe me. I find it pretty unbelievable too. Like something out of a fantasy movie and if there wasn't a dead man a few feet away, I'd think I was hallucinating and…"

"Don't sweat it. Odd things happen now and then so this isn't in the least surprising.

Her head did a pirouette and she frowned slightly. Chef Magnan was not bawling or acting distressed at the story she had just heard.

"I don't think you heard me…"

Magnan looked back at her with a steely expression on her face. "I heard you loud and clear. Now, if you will, it's time to clean up and go over the Cops' version of what happened here."

"Are you joking?"

"No."

The older woman got up to her feet, holding out a hand to help her up.

"Concerning what happened here,we were together. We heard screams and ran out here to check but you only got here before me since I had a batch in the oven."

She couldn't believe it. "How do I explain the bruises and scrapes on my body?"

Chef Magnan frowned slightly as if bothered by the possibility of that question. "You were clumsy and fell."

Anastacia bobbed her head in response. "You couldn't have possibly believed that explanation, did you? Tell me you are only willing to let it go because you are not interested in poking holes in this when there are better things you could be doing with your time?"

The older woman walked past her, grabbing her bag and the contents that had fallen to the ground during the scuffle. Taking out a handkerchief from her apron, she wiped at the lipstick and the other contents of her bag before dumping her change of clothing and shoes in the bin.

She stretched her cards towards her. "Why is it difficult to trust me when I've said I believe you?"

"I appreciate your gesture but I don't want you to have the wrong ideas about me. I didn't kill him. If this is an attempt to help me while nursing a misconception you have about the whole scenario…"

A shadow crossed Magnan's face. Then it went back to being a blank slate. "I think you should save this energy for when you are being grilled by the cops. Remember that you know nothing about him. Someone would have ended up dead anyway. You should be glad it wasn't you. Till the doctors confirm him dead, then we aren't sure of anything."

The bright lights of the torch beamed in their direction, gesturing at them. Magnan squeezed her shoulder in a bid to reassure her.

"Just wait here while I go find out what is happening. I'll be back as soon as I can."

The blare of sirens in the distance had her heart sink lower into her stomach. With her back leaning against the wall, her overactive imagination conjured scenarios of being locked up for a crime she could not explain.

The panic that welled in her earlier threatened to pull her under. If she was discovered, this would mark the end of everything, even before it started.

She would have to get used to living behind bars after losing a decent shot to change her life. The college plans. Her savings and all the nights working different shifts. All of that would amount to nothing.

Anastasia let out a whimper. Realising that the outcome of this determined if her future and all the preparations she had made would go on or go up in flames, scared her to her wit's end.

The gate was jostled again. She raised her eyes to see another member of the Club's security team stare at her. Right behind him were cops from the Paris Police Department.

They stared at her as if they could see through her and the fake show she was putting up. It felt like someone had impaled her on an icy sword.

No. This couldn't be happening. No one knew the truth apart from Magnan and herself. Magnan could not have betrayed her. Not after everything.

The Cop moved closer to her. His eyes fixed intently on hers. His hands moved to his belt and Anastacia saw the silver gleam of a handcuff reflect in the low light. This was it. There was no point lying anymore.

She breathed in and out, exhaling the tension she felt.

Think. Mama used to say that there is a way out of everything. You've been through worse. This isn't your first rodeo. Think! Fucking think!

His voice had a measured cadence to it. She could hear the sound of his voice but not the words. Her mind was drifting. Get a hold of yourself!

"Pardon?" Anastasia squeaked. "I didn't quite get you the first time."

"Who are you?"