Now they were all trying to wind down.
Though there were still concerns. Weaver seemed to guess at James’s main ones. He spoke into the nightair with a tiredness that James couldn’t deny he felt a bit too.
“The doctors say Damon might not wake up at all, but if he does, he has a detail on him until we get a better sense of what’s what,” he said. “But Darius and I agree, we think there’s nothing else out there waiting for Rose. Whatever conflict went on between Damon and Lloyd, it seemed to put a stop to whatever might have come next. Still, it might not be a bad idea to let her stay with you a few more days.”
No one could make Rose do what she didn’t want.
That said, James had already decided he wasn’t going to let the deputy be alone. Whether that meant her staying at his house or him camping outside of her apartment, he was more than prepared to follow her lead.
But he wasn’t about to say that to her boss. Not without her okaying it.
Instead, James nodded.
“I’ll look after her,” he promised.
Weaver was pleased. He scratched at the label on his bottle. James felt his eyes on him but kept his gaze ahead. James bet the sheriff was wondering about the two of them—Rose and James. Weaver had been the first to arrive at the groundskeeper’s house and the first to see Rose, completely folded into his arms.
She hadn’t moved from that position until the EMTs had arrived and insisted on checking both of them. That was when she had finally seen the blood on his sleeves.
“Is that blood?” she had asked, strength zipping through her tears. “Are you hurt?”
He had smiled down at her but felt no joy in it.
“It’s not mine.”
He’d told them about Lloyd then, upstairs in that room. There was no saving him, and when Rose had finally left his side to talk to a newly arrived Price, James had told the sheriff everything Lloyd had said.
Almost everything.
“If you want this to end here, I suggest you don’t repeat what I’m about to say…”
If Lloyd had acted any differently, if he hadn’t seemed so sincere, James wouldn’t have omitted anything from the sheriff or Detective Williams. Yet, he couldn’t find anything to doubt in the man’s warning.
So James kept Lloyd’s last words to himself. If there was any chance it could keep Rose safe, he was going to take it for now.
Maybe that was what Sheriff Weaver suspected now. Maybe he knew James was withholding something. Or maybe he was just tired.
He let out a long breath and turned back toward the field.
“I think it might rain this week,” he said after a moment.
James turned his bottle around in his hand, the condensation wetting his fingers.
“We could use just a little of it,” he said.
“That we could,” Weaver agreed.
They sat in silence, not a bad one, until Blake appeared at the back door. She had one hand on her belly and the other reaching for her husband.
“It’s time for us to go to sleep,” she told him. Then to James, “You too, Mr. Keller.”
Both men stood.
“How’s Rose doing?” the sheriff asked.
Blake looked caught between sad and okay.
“She’ll be okay. She just needs some time to process, is all.” A smile lit her face. She spoke softly to her husband, but James was reassured by it too. “Don’t worry. Wildcard Rose will be back after a good, well-deserved rest.”
