Time to get back to the police station.
* * *
Gage is pointingto a line on one of the police forms. “Sign here, please, Quinn.”
I’m staring down at a police report. “I didn’t think I was going to press charges.”
“You haven’t. Not yet. This is merely for our records. I’m not convinced we won’t be seeing Kara again. None of what they provided to us will hold up in court, and all it says in there is he’lltryto keep her from returning to Ames.”
I look into Gage’s eyes to see if I can get a read on him. I don’t like what he just said. “So, this isn’t over?”
“It may not be.” After those papers are signed, Gage hands me a brown, legal-size envelope. “This is the signed agreement you asked for and the cash. I checked it all for you, but I suggest you take a moment to read through everything and count the money. I’ll have you sign a receipt for everything and add it to your file.” He sighs and runs his fingers through his hair. “None of this is normal police procedure, Quinn, but we have mediated situations before. With that said, you still need to be sure you’re protected.”
I nod, then point to an empty desk. “Can I look at everything over there?”
“Sure. Let me know when you’re done.”
Cooke, who has been standing beside me in silence since we stepped foot in the station, walks with me to the desk. Pulling out a chair for me, I sit down as he takes one from another nearby desk. Opening the envelope, the first thing that slides out are five packages of bills, each with a brown paper band that reads $1000.
I gasp. “Wow. That’s a lot of money.”
“Aye. Would you like me to count it while you read through papers?”
“Sure.” I watch him unbundle one pack and count out ten hundred-dollar bills. When he chuckles, I look up at him. “What?”
“Read.” He points to the forms.
“It’s too much fun watching you count the money.” I shrug. “But you’re right.” So I do my best to focus on the forms. It’s only a page and a half. When I’m done, I hand it over to Cooke. “Will you read it?”
“Sure.” He hands me the money. “It’s all there.” I gaze down at it like it’s a newborn kitten or something. This is a lot of money. It’ll help me a lot, but I can’t help feeling like I got it in the wrong way. It’s like I extorted it from Mr. Becker.
“Stop,” Cooke whispers.
I look up, blinking. “What?”
“I can see it written all over your beautiful face.”
“What?”
“Guilt, love. Remember. Kara owed you the money. She destroyed your scooter.”
“He’s right, Quinn.” I look up and see Gage standing in front of us. Damn, he’s like a ninja. I didn’t hear him approach the desk.
“My scooter wasn’t worth near this. I could buy ten of my old scooters for this money.”
“Think of it like this,” Gage explains. “Insurance is supposed to pay enough to replace whatever was stolen or destroyed. In this case, you can’t replace your exact scooter, so you need to buy a new one. You were inconvenienced because the scooter was destroyed, which some would call pain and suffering.”
“That makes sense, I guess. I wouldn’t say I suffered, but it was a pain.” I snort because I thought it was funny. When neither of the guys laughs, I quickly shut up.
Gage continues, “If he’d gone through his insurance company, they would’ve penalized him by raising his rate just for making the claim. And if they knew it was intentional, they may not have covered it at all, and he may also have lost his policy. In the long run, this saves him time and probably money. Not to mention his daughter isn’t going to be charged for hit-and-run.”
“Sadly,” mutters Cooke.
“Yes, sadly,” Gage grumbles.
“So, I shouldn’t feel bad about taking this money and buying a new scooter.”
Gage nods. “Not at all.” He smirks. “And a new pink helmet.”
