I planted one hand on the hood of the Jeep and opened my mouth for air, pushing that visceral memory away. The scent of pine and salt tasted like blood on my tongue.
Hold it together,I told myself.Take this one step at a time.
I breathed until my hands stopped shaking, then crouched to pull the spare keys out from the magnetic holder in the wheel well. Once inside the car, I studied the area from a cop’s perspective. Dan had been standing in the middle of the cul-de-sac. Than and I had been near the stairs leading up to my house.
There was a dark stain on the gravel that must be my blood.
A sick chill washed over me, and I leaned my head against the steering wheel until the nausea passed. I was fine now. Everything was fine.
I looked back up and wiped sweat from my forehead.
Think. If Dan’s gun wasn’t loaded, where did the bullet come from?
The end of the cul-de-sac was hemmed by coastal pines, Oregon grape, and salal bushes. Far below that was the beach and ocean.
The house across the street was an empty vacation home built far enough off the road that several trees and bushes obscured the face of it.
Someone could have hidden there on the walk, or porch, or behind the bushes. What were the chances someone with a loaded gun was lurking behind Dan?
Out here in the light of day, it seemed like a far-fetched idea. But then, this was Ordinary. Far-fetched was sort of our middle name.
“Dammit.” I dug a clean plastic sandwich bag out of my glove box and got out of the Jeep. I walked to the neighbor’s house, scanning the ground. The gravel didn’t seem disturbed. The bushes weren’t broken. I paced a grid of the cul-de-sac, slowly covering the area. Any evidence from the shooting would have been found by Myra, Jean, and the crime scene techs.
The road was churned from the vehicles that had come and gone since I’d been shot, obscuring tire tracks and footprints.
Maybe Dan did it. Maybe he was angry enough about not winning the contest that he shot me.
The wind stirred and a flash of color under the glossy leaves of a salal bush caught my eye. I bent, groaned at the pressure in my side, and picked up the item with the baggy.
It was a thin purple feather. Weird.
I dropped the feather into the bag and tucked it in my coat. I scanned the area one more time, but didn’t find anything else. Time to go talk to Dan.
Traffic was stop and go all the way down Highway 101, the frequent pedestrian crossings adding to the mess. Businesses lining the street had put goods on the sidewalk with big “sale” signs to lure shoppers. It was a town-wide festival and rummage sale.
My heart lurched. Was that Ryder’s truck turning out of traffic and down a side road? The light changed before I could get a better look, but my heart still raced.
Ryder Bailey was the last thing I wanted to deal with today, or ever. My plan was to ignore our night together, ignore our friendship, and ignore he existed until it no longer hurt to think about him.
You dumped me while I was recovering from a gunshot wound.Jerk.
What was it with men dumping me when I was at my lowest?
I turned into the station and strode to the door. The sign on the door said: Closed. We kept the office locked up on festival days, since we usually pulled double shifts with crowd control. I keyed in the code and flipped on the office lights. The doorsnickedshut behind me. I didn’t lock it. I was in. If someone came by looking for the police, I’d be here.
But first, Dan.
I walked down the other hallway and keyed in the code for that locked door, which opened into our two-cell holding area.
Dan sat on the edge of a small cot behind bars, his arms resting on his legs, his head hanging, fingers worrying at a hangnail. He was muttering quietly to himself—Pearl was right, he really did talk a lot—but stopped when he heard the door open.
“Delaney!” He jumped up to his feet and grabbed the bars.
My hand shot instinctively down to where my gun would be if I were carrying.
Maybe Pearl was right. I wasn’t steady yet, still too jumpy from the last few days. I took a deep breath and tucked my hand into my pocket to hide how much it was shaking.
“Hey, Dan.” I leaned against the wall farthest from him, my other arm across my ribs protectively. “We need to talk.”
