Accepting that she couldn’t stand one more minute, Maggie walked to the chair, perched on the edge, and folded her hands on her lap. She tried to imagine her poor husband, who’d breathed his last breath in a room very much like this one.
“Oh, Roger,” she whispered, closing her eyes and remembering the young man who’d swept her off her feet with the same charm and smile as Rhett Butler. “I miss you so much.”
She felt the fight go out of her, and lost the will to hold her head high, and very, very slowly let it fall to the table. Dropping her cheek on her arms for a tear-soaked pillow, she closed her eyes and fell sound asleep.
The metal clang startled her and she jumped up, wiping a shameful amount of drool from her face before turning. A different officer opened the door, stepped back, and one very spunky-looking Jo Ellen walked in.
“You’re free to leave, Mrs. Lawson,” the deputy said. “Everything’s taken care of.”
Her jaw fell. “Jo? What?—”
“Oh, my darling.” Jo Ellen shot forward, arms out. “Was it awful? Were you scared?” Then she drew back and pointed at the toilet. “Did you use that?”
“Don’t be absurd,” Maggie said, releasing the hug. “What did you do? How did you?—”
“Don’t ask,” she said.
“Oh, no.” Shame crept through her. “Eli’s out there, isn’t he? And Vivien. How can I possibly face them?”
“Come on,” she said, sliding an arm around Maggie. “Let’s get out of this place.”
Unable to put up a fight, Maggie walked with her best friend, each step heavier and sadder than the ones she took to get into this particular hellhole.
“Please tell me. Eli or Vivien? Or, gracious, did I sleep so long you got Crista?”
“None of your kids are waiting out there, Maggie.”
As they made their way down the short hallway toward the front office, Maggie looked around furtively, the humiliation rising like steam. “You swear to me there’s no one out there?”
Jo Ellen gave her most innocent smile. “Not a soul from your family.”
Maggie exhaled, heart easing—until her eyes narrowed. “Wait a minute. That look. You made up another whopper of a story, didn’t you? Told them I had three months to live and wanted to check ‘jail time’ off my bucket list?”
Jo Ellen let out a delighted laugh. “Tempting. But no. Your real story is colorful enough, Mags. Besides, you already spilled most of it to Deputy Herman.”
Maggie froze. “I did not.”
“Oh, you did. You pulled out all the stops, including flirting with the guy.”
Groaning, Maggie rolled her eyes. “That man could use a little sense of humor, don’t you think?”
“Which is why I didn’t even try any tricks,” Jo Ellen said. “Just…got help.”
“Help? Who?”
“Let’s just say…I called in the most obvious person to know their way to a sheriff’s station.”
“Tessa?”
Jo Ellen gave a pretend swing at Maggie’s arm. “Hey, that’s my daughter you’re disparaging.”
“Well, we don’t know any…” Maggie stopped cold. “Jo…”
“Mhmm?”
“I’m begging you, not the biker.”
Before she could answer, Jo Ellen guided them around the corner and into the front lobby…where none other than Brick the bearded biker stood tall and rumpled and grinning like a man who’d just pulled off the heist of the century.
