Steph pulls back and goes to answer the door. Lottie sweeps in with a covered plate and knowing eyes.
"Don't you two look cozy," she says, beaming. "I hope I'm not interrupting anything."
"Not at all," Steph lies.
Lottie sets the banana bread on the counter and fixes me with a look. "Kevin, dear, have you heard about that awful man asking questions about Steph?"
I go still. "What did you hear?" I already know, but it’s best to hear it from her own perspective.
"Oh, just that horrible man was at the diner yesterday, fishing for information. Wanted to know where she lived, whether her boyfriend was real." Lottie sniffs. "I told Riley, you know, the new girl in town who moved here last month, anyway, that’s not important. But I told her not to tell him a damn thing, of course. We take care of our own in this town."
"Thank you, Lottie," I say. "That helps more than you know."
"Well, you're the one protecting her." She pats my arm. "We're just backing you up. That's what our community does."
After she leaves—with a promise to "let you two get back to whatever you were doing" that makes Steph's face turn red—I lock the door and turn back to face her.
"Where were we?" I ask.
She crosses her arms, and I can see her pulling back, second-guessing. "Kevin, maybe we should—"
My phone rings again.
This time it's the chief.
"Dawes, I need you to come in," he says without preamble. "Elliott's lawyer is here, and he's making noise about a lawsuit. Claims you used excessive force during the arrest."
Of course he is.
"I'll be there in twenty minutes," I say.
When I hang up, Steph is watching me with worried eyes.
"You have to go?"
"Yeah." I grab my jacket. "But I'm not leaving you here alone. You're coming with me."
"Kevin—"
"Non-negotiable," I say firmly. "Elliott's out there asking questions, and I'm not taking chances. You're staying where I can see you."
She opens her mouth to argue, but closes it and nods. "Okay."
***
The police station is as tense as I expected.
Elliott's lawyer—some slick guy in a suit that costs more than my truck—is already in the chief's office making his case. Through the window, I can see Elliott sitting in a chair, looking smug.
My hands curl into fists.
"Easy," Troy murmurs from beside me. He showed up five minutes after I texted him, standing as backup and to get Steph out of here if need be. "Don't give him ammunition."
"He grabbed her," I say through gritted teeth. "I witnessed it. There's nothing excessive about what I did."
"I know that. You know that. The chief knows that." Troy claps me on the shoulder. "Let the lawyer blow hot air. Your report is solid."
The chief calls me in, and I spend the next hour walking through every detail of the arrest. The lawyer tries to poke holes—suggests I was off duty and had no authority, implies my "relationship" with Steph compromised my judgment, argues that Elliott barely touched her and I overreacted.
