The truce didn’t last long before Kayla pushed herself away and Wade returned to Jericho’s side. They were all quiet for a moment, and then Kayla spoke, her voice strong again. “You have a head injury, Jay, so you might not remember. But in case anyone asks—we deputized everyone. Do you remember that? It was a quick thing, not really a ceremony at all, but everyone who got injured—if their insurance doesn’t cover them, it’s okay because the department’s insurance will, because they were properly deputized at the time. Do you remember that?”
“There were white flowers.” Jericho’s voice was still raspy, but he was feeling better. “A huge central display, with boutonnieres for every new deputy.”
“I swear to God, Jay, do not start mentioning flowers,” Kayla warned. “Keep it simple. We swore them in. That’s all.”
“Was there a Bible? Oaths of any sort?”
“I think you probably don’t remember anything that happened that day,” Kayla said firmly. “Does that sound about right? Your memory is completely gone?”
He almost wished it were. “Patchy. But I definitely remember something about deputizing.”
“I remember it too,” Wade said cheerfully.
“No one’s going to ask you, Wade.” The beige blur stepped back from the foot of the bed. “Not unless things have gone horribly awry.”
“Hockley’s okay?” Jericho asked. His mouth was so dry he was pretty sure the skin of his tongue was going to lift right off and adhere to the roof of his mouth with his next words, but there were some questions that needed to be asked.
“He will be,” Kayla said, and she was her fierce warrior self again. “He got hit late in the game. Might lose part of his leg, but he’ll be okay.”
Maybe Jericho hadn’t needed to hear that. He remembered to not move his head, but cast his eyes down over his own body as far as he could see. Still two legs. Two arms. “Me?” he asked Wade.
“You’re going to be a crabby bitch in physio for a few months, and they took out your spleen. I swear, they do that just so they can say they did something. They took a chunk of your liver too. They’re probably going to eat it.”
“Jesus, Wade,” Kayla said, but she sounded like a mom, not a sheriff. “Nobody’s eating his liver.”
“She’s not a doctor,” Wade faux-whispered to Jericho. “She doesn’t know.”
Jericho’s world was a surreal hospital room. But Wade and Kay were both in it, and they were almost getting along. So he had no complaints, and let himself drift away.
Things were significantly less pleasant the next time he opened his eyes. Wade was still there, so it wasn’t terrible, and Jericho could see him clearly now, which was certainly an improvement. But the men standing at the foot of his bed? The men in suits, with not-that-subtle bulges to show where their sidearms were holstered?
Jericho squinted at them. “Low on douchiness, high on self-righteous bullshit. I’m guessing FBI.”
“I’m Special Agent Lines,” one of the men said. Lines? Or Lyons? Lions? That would be nice, if he were a special feline agent. Jericho could feel the morphine doing its business on his body and figured there was no reason to work all that hard on controlling his mind. It made it a bit easier to listen when he was picturing a talking lion. “We’re going to need to ask you some questions about the events in Mosely last week.”
“Last week,” Jericho said. Okay, technically that could be just a couple of days earlier, if they were counting the weekend as the start of a new cycle. He turned to look at Wade, and this time it barely hurt at all. Absolutely no urge to puke on Wade’s creased gray shirt.
“It’s been nine days,” Wade said gently. “You were pretty fucked up, so they kept you unconscious. They say you can talk to these guys, but the second you decide they’re doing you no good? Like, if you have a hangnail and you think them being here is making it worse? Let me know, and they’re gone.”
Was it the fun of being in power over feds or of getting to be protective of Jericho, or some combination of the two? Did it matter? Wade was happy, and that meant Jericho was happy. “My advisor will let you know when I require a recess,” he said archly to the feds. “And, while we’re at it, could you clarify just which agency you’re being so special at?”
The agent’s pleasant expression seemed frozen. “FBI,” he replied. “Yes. Now, about the incident in Mosely last week. We’re asking some questions, obviously. We’re going to need you to walk us through it from the beginning.”
“The beginning?” Jericho asked. “Can you be a little more specific than that?”
“Whenever you think it’s most relevant. We can ask you follow-up questions if needed.”
Jericho looked over at Wade, then back at the fed. It was stupid. He didn’t have the strength for this crap, and even if he did, there was no reason to be childish. No reason except that the citizens of Mosely had fought alone while the feds had ignored them. No reason except that citizens of Mosely were dead. Kay’s father was dead, and he’d been a duplicitous asshole but still her father. Other citizens, probably all assholes in their own way, had also been heroes in their own way. And this fed was here now, when it was too late? As if he somehow had the right to judge when he hadn’t been there to take part? And as if his agency wasn’t going to be looking for ways to excuse their mistakes . . .
Jericho smiled sweetly. “I’d like to think it all began on the day I left Mosely, a day scented with pine needles and opportunity. But, really, to truly understand, we may need to go further back. I was born on a cool morning in early May . . .”
He kept talking for as long as he could, and then he sucked on the ice chips Wade brought him, and talked a little more. The feds probably weren’t that interested in his feelings toward his fifth-grade teacher, who’d combined nurturing and torturing in fairly equal parts, but they’d stood there and listened as long as they could stand. And when they finally left, Jericho found enough voice to call out after them. “Be sure to come back tomorrow! We might get to the times I lost my virginity. That’s right, I said times.”
He was tired. Possibly exhausted. But then Wade smiled at him, and Jericho could have stood up and walked right out of the hospital if Wade thought it was a good idea.
Instead, Wade said, “I fucking love you. You know that, don’t you?”
Thankfully, Jericho no longer felt the need to vomit whenever he nodded. “I suspected; I am a detective. But it’s nice to hear it.”
