Troublemaker

CHAPTER 7

BO MADE A MAD DASH TO TOWN AND SUPERMARKET with Tricks riding shotgun. She was uneasy about leaving a stranger alone in her house though, really, what was he going to do? Go through her kitchen cabinets? He might crawl up the stairs but he sure couldn’t climb them, and there was nothing more interesting there than her underwear drawer if he got his jollies that way. She doubted he’d make the effort, though, even if he were capable of it. He hadn’t even wanted the TV on. She suspected he’d gone back to sleep as soon as they left.

The thin layer of snow was already melting and the roads were in good shape. She left Tricks in the Jeep, with the windows down a little for some cold fresh air, and made a record-breaking trip through the supermarket.

First, because it was most important, she restocked on food and treats for Tricks. Then she backtracked to the front of the store and began loading up on fresh fruit and some veggies, though fresh vegetables generally needed some sort of cooking and she didn’t do much of that, but maybe she’d throw together a loaded salad, or something. She got frozen pizzas, he-man milk, bacon and eggs, canned biscuits, frozen pancakes and waffles, anything she could think of that was fast, easy, and something a guy might eat. Pancake syrup. The makings for hamburgers. Chips and salsa. Cheese, cheese, and more cheese. Olives? Did men eat olives? But olives reminded her of Italian food, so she got some frozen lasagna and the makings for spaghetti, which called for garlic bread. My God, feeding the man was likely to eat up everything Axel was paying her!

She didn’t take the time to edit her selections or plan any meal in particular because she was in a hurry. When she was checking out, the tiny white-haired cashier, Miss Virginia Rose-a retired schoolteacher who hadn’t taken well to retirement so she’d gotten a job at the supermarket where she could keep tabs on the whole damn town-raised her eyebrows at the mountain of food Bo loaded onto the conveyor belt. “Goodness, I’ve never seen you buy so much food.”

Miss Virginia wouldn’t directly ask, but she would certainly set the table for confession.

Bo was happy to oblige. The best way to avoid the appearance of guilt was to be up front with as many details as possible. “An old friend is staying with me for a while. Can you say ‘junk-food junkie’?” She pushed two packs of Oreos forward, one regular and the other golden so he’d have a choice. She might snag one or two of them herself.

Miss Virginia might have wanted Bo to enlarge on the old friend, but she was in a hurry and resisted. News would get around town soon enough. She couldn’t hide him, didn’t intend to try. If people thought there was a mystery, they’d start trying to solve it, and nothing good would come of that.

She paid cash for the mountain of food, her normal procedure these days. Once she’d have swiped a card without thinking, but when she’d hit her limit on multiple cards while she was renovating the barn, she’d had to learn different habits. The grand total on the bill made her wince, which reminded her she needed to check her bank balance some time today to make certain Axel had deposited the promised funds. What time did banks credit electronic transfers, anyway? Her inquiring mind really wanted to know.

She loaded the groceries into the back of the Jeep. Tricks had been perfectly content watching people come and go, though Bo received a welcome lick when she slid behind the wheel. She scratched behind Tricks’s ears and said, “Let’s go, sweetie. I want time to take you for a nice long walk before we head to the station.”

Her tire tracks when she’d left were the only ones on the snowy driveway, meaning her guest hadn’t changed his mind and driven away during the not-quite hour and a half she’d been gone. The Tahoe was still in the same place, its windshield still covered with snow. There were no tracks leading from the house to the SUV, so he hadn’t even gone outside.

She let Tricks out of the Jeep and watched as she dashed around, smelling things, peeing, and smelling more things. She let the dog nose around while she got one bag of groceries out of the back and unlocked the door to take them in.

Morgan was asleep, one leg stretched out and his right foot on the floor. His left arm was curled across his chest, his right arm dangled. The blanket was kind of over him, but mostly not. If the noise of her entry hadn’t wakened him, she saw no reason why he shouldn’t continue sleeping. His body needed the rest.

Hurriedly she brought in the rest of the groceries, put them away, then grabbed Tricks’s tennis ball and headed out for their walk. By the time they returned, she had just forty minutes before she was supposed to be at the station.

She hesitated, glancing at the sleeping man. Let him sleep, or wake him up for a quick sandwich? He needed to eat, but he also needed to sleep or he wouldn’t be doing so much of it. What did she know about taking care of invalids? Not much, obviously. Now, if he were a dog, she’d be much more adept. When she’d gotten that little ball of fur she’d named Tricks, she’d been so terrified of her own ignorance that she’d read every article and book she could find on taking care of dogs. She’d never been the warmhearted, nurturing type, so it was ironic she’d landed in this role.

She hesitated for a minute, then slapped together a ham and cheese sandwich, put it in a sandwich bag along with some chips, and set them as well as a glass of water on the coffee table where he’d see them when he woke up. That would have to do.

She and Tricks drove back to town. On the way, she called the bank to ask about electronic transfers, and after a few minutes of holding, the head cashier picked up again and said, “Chief, we had a transfer come in overnight for you. It’s already been credited to your account.”

“That fast?” Bo asked, her heart rate suddenly doubling. Until then the money had been a possibility rather than a reality, and the realization that she was no longer mostly broke was so startling that she stammered something about her share of an inheritance and hung up.

Good lord! What a turnaround! For seven years she’d been digging herself out of a deep hole, then like a lightning bolt she was once more secure and solvent. The relief was so overwhelming she felt giddy and pulled to the side of the road until she’d settled down some. She hugged Tricks, which earned her a lick. “Guess what, baby girl,” she said as she stroked the dog’s lush fur. “You’re going to be getting a new stuffed toy to play with. How does that sound, huh? Do you want a new baby?”

Tricks tilted her head back in enjoyment of the stroking, her eyes half-closed and a blissful golden-retriever smile on her face.

Bo’s mind whirled with things she could do, one of which was buy a new vehicle that was more suitable for her, but the past seven years had taught her a lot and she immediately rejected the idea. No way. She didn’t need a new car. She might want one, but she didn’t need one. The Jeep was running fine, and it was paid for. No, it wasn’t the most comfortable or practical choice for her, it had some miles on it, but she was used to it and she couldn’t see spending money she didn’t need to spend. That was how she’d gotten into such a financial mess to begin with. Likewise, she didn’t need a new wardrobe. Or jewelry. Or a bigger TV.

Everything she needed-a home, friends, a job, Tricks-she already had.

Buying Tricks a new stuffed animal sounded like a great way to celebrate. Other than that, she’d use the entire hundred and fifty thousand to retire the last of her credit-card debt and make a big payment on her mortgage. She might refinance, she thought-but if she did, it would be for a shorter length of time. With the credit-card debt gone, she could easily pay extra on the principal as well as start saving for when she actually needed a new car.

With seven years of hard work she’d bought herself some wiggle room and relief, finally. It was kind of annoying that Axel, of all people, had provided her with the means to jump out of the hole.

Never mind how annoying it was. She’d jump anyway.

When her heart rate settled down, she pulled back onto the highway and finished the drive to town. The light snow had melted into the occasional white patch, and a weak sun was trying to break through the dismal gray sky. Traffic was on the light side; evidently people were waiting until the snow was completely gone, and the temperature more than two degrees above freezing before they ventured out on their Friday errands. She passed a few people heading out for lunch a little early and greeted them with a honk and a wave. She made it all the way to the second traffic light before someone yelled, “Tricks!” and the royal procession began.

Tricks ate it up, beaming and giving the occasional happy “Woof!” when her name was called. She knew the routine and was more than happy to play her part.

The school principal, Evan Cummins, was leaving the bank where his wife, Lisa, was a vice president of commercial loans. The bank was small enough that she was likely the vice president of commercial loans, but the title was nice and Lisa well liked. Evan waved his arm to flag Bo down, and she pulled to the curb and rolled down her window. Evan darted across the street and leaned down to look in at her and Tricks. “Morning, Chief,” he said cheerfully. “Hi, Tricks.”

“Good morning,” Bo replied. “Is anything wrong?”

“No, everything’s okay that I know of, which usually means something will blow up in my face as soon as I get back to the school. I just wanted to ask you if it would be okay for Tricks to ride on the Seniors’ Float in the Heritage Parade. She was the kids’ number one pick.”

The mental image tickled Bo, and she began laughing. “Will she have to wear a tiara?” The Heritage Parade was an annual event put on by the town, held in May just before the end of school so they could guarantee the kids’ participation. They got out of school to decorate the floats, and the competition between the classes was fierce. The day included an antique car show, a crafts fair, and different food vendors set up in the small town park so people could picnic without having to bring their own food. There were, of course, a Heritage King and Queen picked from the senior class.

“I wouldn’t be surprised,” he replied. He was a pleasant-looking man in his mid-forties, brown hair and brown eyes, with a dimple beside his mouth when he smiled. All the kids and teachers in their small school seemed to like him, with the occasional hiccup in popularity whenever some of the kids got in trouble. He was a local, which to her way of thinking was a big plus because he knew everyone and the current set of parents were likely his own schoolmates, which meant he got more trust than an outsider would have.

Bo thought about it. Tricks loved attention, but she loved it only when Bo was nearby. “I don’t know that she’d stay on the float if I weren’t there. And, no, I don’t want to ride on a float. She might do okay if we practiced, but more than likely she’d jump off the float and start looking for me.”

Evan made a series of thoughtful expressions as he ran possibilities through his head. “How about if you’re hidden where no one can see you? On the float, I mean. I don’t want her to get hurt jumping off a moving flatbed trailer. The kids really want her there. I think they’d crown her queen if she attended school.”

When Tricks was just a year old, Evan had talked Bo into attending Career Day at the school and bringing Tricks along. The gregarious dog had pranced into the redbrick building as if she owned it, bestowed her tennis ball on select students for them to throw for her, cuddled, licked, and generally charmed all the kids.

Bo hesitated. “Let me think about it.” She really didn’t want to spend an hour or so crouched on a slow-moving float, especially when there wasn’t any guarantee Tricks would sit prettily even with Bo nearby. She sighed. Oh hell, of course she’d do it, if Tricks would cooperate. “We’d need to do a practice run or two, to see if she’d do it. She might hate the commotion.”

Then again, when had Tricks ever hated being the center of attention? Nevertheless, Bo wasn’t going to spring anything on her that was that far outside her experience.

“I’ll get something set up,” he promised and lightly slapped the door frame as he straightened. “Thanks, Chief. I’ll tell the kids it’s a maybe, and it depends on Tricks.”

She rolled up the window and continued down the street toward the police station, but before she reached there she saw Jesse’s patrol car come racing up the street and slide to a stop in front of Doris Brown’s bakery. He leaped out of the car and ran inside.

Unless he had a cake emergency, Bo thought, something was wrong. She pulled to the curb on the opposite side of the street, let the window down a couple of inches so Tricks would have fresh air, and dashed across the street to join him. Had someone had a heart attack? Just as she reached the sidewalk, she heard a scream and a loud crash and her heart jumped; she jerked the door open and rushed inside.

At first the scene was too chaotic to make sense. Jesse and a man were rolling on the floor, throwing punches. Miss Doris stood behind the counter, her hands clapped to her cheeks with her eyes wide and panicky while she emitted a series of little cries like a squeaky car alarm going off. Her granddaughter, Emily, sat crying on the floor with a hand held over her left eye. The glass in one of the counters was broken, as was a table. A customer, Brandwyn Wyman, had grabbed up one of the chairs and was circling the two men fighting, ready to clobber one of them in the head if she got an open shot.

All Bo knew was that if a fight was going on, she was on Jesse’s side. Without giving herself time to think and chicken out, she gulped once and threw herself into the fray and locked her arm under the other guy’s chin, pulling back as hard as she could. If nothing else, at least she could distract him and give Jesse a chance to get him handcuffed.

The man bucked and threw himself sideways, trying to dislodge her. The impact with the floor jarred her, hard, made her vision blur and sound fade. She’d never been in a physical fight before and wasn’t prepared for the shock of impact-it was, well, shocking-but she tightened her arm and held on, reaching over his shoulder to clamp her free hand around her other wrist to keep him from breaking her grip. Another scream split the air, Jesse was swearing like a sailor, and then she felt the guy’s muscles tightening as he gathered himself and lurched to his feet with her clinging to his back for all she was worth. He punched blindly over his shoulder, catching her on the right cheekbone. A series of things happened almost simultaneously:

She saw stars. Literally.

Fury swamped her, a red, all-encompassing fury that blotted out reason and felt as if her entire body had expanded from the force of it. She heard someone roaring, “I’ll tear your fucking head off!” and to her horror realized it was her because she was suiting action to words and had her knees braced against his back while she hauled back with all her body weight behind it.

Jesse came off the floor like a tiger, reaching for them.

And Brandwyn stepped in, a five-foot-two, red-haired avenging angel with purpose in her eyes as she swung the chair with the precision of a professional baseball player, missing Bo’s head by inches but clobbering the hell out of her target.

The guy went down like a fallen tree. Not being an experienced rider of either horses or humans, Bo couldn’t launch herself free fast enough to evade yet another impact with the floor. The back of her head slammed against wood, her right shoulder slammed against something else, and there was a brief moment of silence.

“Holy shit.”

Again, the voice was hers, faint and astonished now. She blinked up at the ceiling and tried to make her surroundings snap into place because they seemed to be doing crazy stuff such as whirling and dancing. She heard Jesse on the radio, his tone sharp and urgent, then Miss Doris’s round face swam into view as she knelt beside Bo. She was saying, “Oh lordy, oh lordy,” over and over.

Bo took a deep breath, and her surroundings did indeed snap back into place, with an audible pop! She turned her head and saw Jesse efficiently handcuffing the guy and rolling him over as he cast a swiftly assessing look at her.

“Get some ice, Miss Doris. For both Emily and the chief.”

Miss Doris scrambled to her feet and hurried away, and her place was taken by both Emily and Brandwyn. Emily’s left eye was swollen and rapidly bruising, but she seemed otherwise unhurt. She grabbed some napkins from the holder on one of the tables and gently pressed it to Bo’s cheekbone. Brandwyn squatted beside her, her attention darting from Bo to the unconscious man as if prepared for him to recover and cause more trouble. If so, from the fierce expression on her face, she intended to be prepared.

“What the hell?”

Bo wondered who was controlling her tongue, because the last three sentences out of her own mouth had been swear words. Not that she didn’t cuss a bit now and then, but she’d always been careful not to say the F word now that she was chief. That ban had now been broken, and she had no doubt the entire town would know her utterances, verbatim, before the day was over. Mayor Buddy might feel he needed to have a word with her over her public use of foul language.

“Shit,” she said, in response to her own thought.

“Damn it!” She’d just done it again. “Will someone please put a gag on me?”

Jesse joined the squat club. He looked a little worse for wear himself, with his shirt torn and his nose dripping blood. Emily handed him a napkin and he made an effort to clean it away, then simply clamped the napkin over his nose. “The medics will be here soon,” he said, his tone nasal but comforting. “And half the county, I expect.”

Bo began cautiously moving her arms and legs, checking herself out. She didn’t think there was anything broken, but she was kind of addled and couldn’t be certain. “Why?”

The three squatters looked at each other in alarm.

“I’m not concussed,” she said a bit irritably. “I don’t think so, anyway.”

“You did hit your head kind of hard on the floor.”

Yeah, she remembered that. “Okay, okay. I see your point.” Nevertheless, she got her left elbow under her and levered herself to a sitting position. If the medics and half the county were on their way, she at least wanted to be sitting up, preferably in a chair.

“Take it easy,” Emily said, her soft voice worried. She was a pretty, gentle young woman, very much like her grandmother both in sweetness and in her master’s touch with baking.

“That was wild,” Brandwyn said, awe in her tone. “You jumped on his back like a monkey on an elephant.”

That was kind of how she’d felt, too, and not in a good way. The elephant had definitely been in control. Groaning a little, she hauled her butt into a chair just as Miss Doris hurried back with not two but three bags of ice. One went on Emily’s eye, the second one on Bo’s cheekbone, and the third on Jesse’s nose.

She felt strange, kind of disconnected from everything, even the throbbing of her cheekbone and shoulder. This was the first violence she’d ever encountered, and she hoped it was the last. The altercation felt as if it had lasted for half an hour at least, but it had to have been-what?-a minute, tops? She patted her coat pocket for her cell phone but came up empty.

“I’ve lost my cell.”

Brandwyn looked around and said, “Here it is,” as she stooped to pick up the phone from where it had skidded under another table. Bo took it and pressed the home button to bring up the time. Yes, less than five minutes had passed since she’d spoken to Evan in front of the bank. And what the hell difference did it make anyway?

It didn’t. Checking the time was just more of that sense of disconnection, trying to find something solid, something normal.

Maybe the best way was in conversation. As soon as she had the thought, she realized the rest of them were talking, Jesse asking questions, Brandwyn and Miss Doris talking over each other, Emily starting to cry.

Bo said, “Who is that?” and pointed at the handcuffed man on the floor, because she didn’t recognize him.

The four of them stared at her. “That’s Kyle,” Emily said, sniffling. “My husband.”

“What? Kyle? What happened to his hair?” She’d met Kyle once or twice; she’d always thought Emily had married the pick of the Gooding family, but maybe not. When she’d seen him before, he’d worn his hair buzzed, been clean shaven; now his light brown hair was long, almost touching his shoulders, and he had the scruffy three-day beard a lot of guys were wearing to show how cool they were.

“He’s been growing it out,” Emily replied unnecessarily.

Kyle began shifting and making sounds that were a combination of grunts and groans. Following hard on that were some slurred curses, including “Stupid bitch, you’ll pay for this.”

“Are you threatening your wife?” Jesse asked in his cop voice, setting the ice bag aside and gripping the front of Kyle’s jacket with both hands to haul him to a sitting position. As he did so, the first of the sirens became audible, coming in stereo from both ends of town.

Kyle wasn’t stupid; his father had always paid to make trouble go away whenever any of his kids misbehaved, but Miss Doris and Emily were both well liked, and some trouble trumped money. Not only that, he was beginning to realize he’d been in a fight with two law officers, and that wasn’t good. “No,” he said sullenly. “I’m talking about a divorce.”

“Praise the lord,” said Miss Doris, glaring at him. “You’re so low-down, you’d have to grow ten feet taller before you could lick the soles of Emily’s shoes.”

“Miss Doris, how about you and Emily, and Brandwyn, move to the other side of the room, please.” Jesse cast an encompassing look at both Kyle and Bo, decided one wasn’t going anywhere and the other was doing okay, and he began herding the ladies along.

Kyle slanted Bo one of those sullen looks.

“I didn’t know it was you,” she said, though it wouldn’t have made any difference if she had. “I haven’t seen you since you grew your hair out.”

He didn’t look apologetic, but again, he wasn’t stupid. “I didn’t know it was you either,” he mumbled, and that was likely true given that she’d jumped him from behind. “Sorry.” After a pause, “You okay?”

She didn’t answer because the medic truck screeched to a stop outside the shop, followed by a county car coming from the opposite direction. They parked nose to nose, and two medics and a deputy bailed out. Other sirens were wailing as more patrol cars descended on them.

The medics came first to her, for reasons unknown. The attention was overwhelming, swamping her with the sense of being out of control as well as disconnected. She wasn’t hurt all that much, a little bruised and sore, while Jesse was actually bleeding, but then she realized all the others were on their feet while she was sitting down-well, except for Kyle, but considering he was handcuffed, evidently sympathy for him was running low. One of the medics finally peeled off to check out Jesse and Emily, while the other checked her pupils, which appeared to be normal.

Maybe they were reacting to the novelty of the “lady chief” being in an altercation, but the small bakery was soon filled to bursting with county deputies and other official types, as well as the town’s other four police officers, two of whom were off-duty. For God’s sake, even the coroner showed up; it must have been a slow day for bodies. Several of the town council members arrived, as well as Mayor Buddy. Kyle Gooding was hauled to his feet, his head examined where Brandwyn had clobbered him with the chair, and taken away to the hospital in the next town over for checking out. He wanted to have whoever hit him arrested, but that didn’t fly considering he’d been in the process of attacking two law officers when Brandwyn brained him. After he was checked out, assuming he wasn’t admitted, he’d be taken to the county jail because the town didn’t have a jail and all their arrestees were put in the county facility. Even after Kyle was gone, people still stood around, laughing and retelling the fracas.

Bo instinctively retreated behind her mental walls, where she always went when she was in protective mode. She’d learned to do that at an early age as a means of coping with her mother’s parade of boyfriends and husbands, constant relocating, and a father who appeared to forget about her for years at a time. What had worked for the kid still worked for the adult. She didn’t like being the center of attention, and if the attention wouldn’t go away, then she would, at least inside her head.

Mayor Buddy came and patted her hand. “Quite a bit of excitement,” he said kindly as he pulled a chair around and sat down beside her, his pleasantly homely face caught in an expression halfway between concern and laughter.

Bo roused herself to reconnect. “I want to apologize for my language,” she said because she’d heard the phrase “tear your fucking head off” several times during the past half hour or so. The deputies had gotten a kick out of it, but she didn’t know how the town elders would feel. No one would care if she cussed like a sailor in private, but public perception was a different animal.

He chuckled. “Don’t worry about it. It makes such a good story most everyone in town will likely tell it themselves. The few that get puckered up about it will be outnumbered. I swear to you, I never thought this kind of thing would be in your job description.”

“I didn’t either.” She’d thought it was administrative, all the way. And it would have been; jumping in had been her choice, no one had told her to do it.

“Kyle’s daddy will likely kick up a fuss.”

“I know.” Warren Gooding owned a couple of prosperous sawmills in the area, which meant he employed some of the townspeople, and he liked to throw his weight around because of it. He’d always stepped in whenever his kids did anything wrong, blaming everything on someone else, so she expected him to follow pattern. Still, he didn’t live within the town limits, so he couldn’t even vote in elections, and considering the circumstances, she thought he’d concentrate his efforts on finding Kyle a good lawyer and maybe trying to get the prosecutor not to press charges.

If it were left up to her, she’d let bygones be bygones; she wasn’t really hurt and neither was Jesse. Hitting Emily, to her, was the big deal, but whether or not Emily pressed charges was up to her. But there would be charges because no one wanted people to get the idea they could get away with resisting arrest and assaulting officers of the law. This whole thing was going to get very messy before it was over; Miss Doris was beloved in the town and the Goodings weren’t, but the Goodings were influential, strident, and persistent.

She caught a glimpse of the big school clock on the wall behind the counter, and saw that almost an hour had elapsed. Aghast at her own negligence she said, “Tricks!” and surged to her feet. As cold as the day was, she knew overheating wasn’t a problem, but it was definitely time to get her out of the Jeep.

“Where is she?” That was one of the county deputies; she thought his name was Mayhew, or Mayfield, something like that. It didn’t surprise her that he knew who Tricks was.

“In the Jeep,” she said as she started to the door.

“You stay here, maybe drink some tea and get settled. I’ll get her.”

“Tea!” said Miss Doris, her eyes lighting. “That’s a good idea. All three of you need something to drink.” She dashed behind the counter and went to work.

Bo watched as the deputy crossed the street and opened the passenger door of the Jeep, then released Tricks from her harness. He wasn’t fast enough to catch her leash, though. Tricks jumped down and immediately trotted to the curb, her expression a little anxious as she searched for Bo. As always, she stopped at the curb and looked both right and left, a trick that delighted all the kids in town whenever they saw her do it, then she dashed across the street, leash trailing, and came straight to the door of the bakery, with the deputy in hot pursuit as he made repeated grabs for her leash.

Ignoring any health department regulations about animals in a food establishment, another deputy opened the door and let Tricks in. She darted to Bo, her whole body wagging with joy at being reunited. Bo received a thorough sniffing from her feet up, then a lick on the hand, then she was abandoned because the smells of food captured Tricks’s interest. Tricks made a beeline for the display cases and stood in front of them, her tail swishing back and forth as she seemed to peruse the baked goods.

“I’m going to take her out back,” Bo said to no one in particular and took Tricks out the door and around the side of the bakery to the patch of grass behind the building.

The brief period of solitude felt like an escape. She stood in the cold air, watching Tricks nose around and choose the optimal spot to pee, and relished the quiet and aloneness. She wasn’t a recluse by any means, but the whole slightly farcical situation was too chaotic and intense for her to quite get a handle on it. She needed time to regroup, just a little, to settle herself down.

When she and Tricks went back inside, Miss Doris was waiting with a cup of hot, sweet tea. Emily and Jesse also held cups, though Jesse looked a bit self-conscious at holding the dainty teacup. He’d probably have preferred coffee, but Miss Doris thought he needed tea, so he’d drink the tea and thank her for it.

Things began winding down. Statements were taken from all involved, the medics pronounced her good to go but with the warning that she should get a friend to stay with her overnight, just in case there were any delayed symptoms.

Despite Miss Doris’s rejuvenating tea-which had indeed helped settle the jittery feeling-Bo felt tired and drained. She’d had no idea brawling was such hard work. She was able to make her escape and go to the police station, where she could do normal things such as feed Tricks, give her some water, then kneel on the floor and bury her face in the dog’s plush golden fur as she hugged her and apologized for letting her stay in the Jeep for so long. Tricks didn’t care; she was happy to be hugged and doted on, regardless of the reason.

She didn’t have the police station to herself, of course; the dispatcher, Loretta Hobson, had to get the lowdown on what had happened, the phone rang, both off-duty officers came in just to check on things, Daina heard about what had happened and called to see if she was okay, a couple of the town’s nosy old men came by on trumped-up excuses so they could see what was what and make a report at the daily gathering of the Liar’s Club at the diner, where they sat and drank coffee and chewed the fat for hours at a time.

All of that felt somewhat normal, though she began to realize she’d never live down the tale.

Dutifully Bo made herself sit down and start on the never-ending paperwork generated by even a small-town police force. That was her job, after all. She’d been at it for maybe half an hour when Jesse came in and dropped into the visitor’s chair in front of her desk.

“Sorry about that,” he said gruffly. He looked chagrined that she’d been involved in a violent situation. Jesse loved being a cop, had never wanted to be anything else, but he despised paperwork and administration to an intense degree. It had been his idea to hire her as police chief to handle the administrative side while he handled the enforcement part of it, so he was feeling guilty that she’d been hurt, however slightly.

She shrugged and felt the soreness in her right shoulder. “No one made me jump in, I just did it. I’m okay.”

“I let him take me by surprise. I know how domestics can blow up on you, and I let my guard down anyway.” His cheekbones flushed with color. Failing to meet his own standards as a cop would eat at him, and he’d make sure he never made that mistake again. He looked like such a Boy Scout with his short dark-blond hair, blue eyes, and square jaw that if someone didn’t know him, it was easy to underestimate his dedication to the job. “Are you really okay? I know the medics told you to have someone stay with you tonight.”

With an inner start, Bo remembered her houseguest. His presence would be convenient tonight, and though she didn’t think there was any need, neither would she take any chances with her health.

“Someone is staying with me,” she said.

“Who?”

“An old friend. He showed up unexpectedly yesterday afternoon.”

“He?”

“Morgan Rees. He’s in bad shape and needed a place to stay.”

Pure cop flowed over Jesse, hardening his gaze as he considered what “bad shape” could mean, and the reasons behind it, such as drug addiction. “Bad shape how?”

“He’s had open-heart surgery, then pneumonia, and he literally doesn’t have anyone to take care of him. Poor guy looks like death warmed over.”

“He’s an old boyfriend?”

“Not even that.” She could see where it was unusual that she’d open her home to someone with whom she didn’t have any real links. “He was a friend of a friend, originally. We’ve never even dated. But we got along, and he’s desperate, so…” She let her voice trail off and shrugged. “At least I won’t be by myself tonight.”

“Do you mind if I meet him?” That was Jesse, direct and determined.

She smiled as he hit right on her prediction. “I told him you would. Sure, come out whenever you want.” Even if that wouldn’t be the surest way to allay any of Jesse’s suspicions, she’d have wanted him to meet anyone staying with her as a safety measure. She wasn’t a scaredy-cat, but she was definitely a cautious one. It struck her that she’d never before had an overnight visitor, of either sex, and it was seldom that anyone came out to her place. That was fine with her because she liked her own space and her privacy and wanted to be able to leave any situation and go home.

“I was planning on following you home anyway to make sure you got there okay. Head injuries can be tricky.”

“I appreciate it,” she said, and meant it.