“How do you feel about his death?”
She cocked her head to the side.“What do you mean, his death?”
“You don’t know what I’m talking about?”
“I don’t.”
“Tripp Gilley died in a helicopter crash last night.It’s all over the news.”
*
Wade pulled intoa parking space in front of the sheriff’s substation and hopped out.
He strode through the front entrance, bypassed the reception desk, and continued straight back to the holding area.Deputy Slate was sitting in a chair outside one of the cells, playing a song on a harmonica.Meredith sat inside the cell with Chico.The dog threw his head back and howled as if singing along to the music.Both Slate and Meredith laughed.
Wade didn’t know whether to be relieved by the sight of her in good spirits or annoyed about her easygoing manner.She was in a jail cell, for Christ’s sake.He’d been worried sick.The least she could do was act like a damsel in distress.This scene reminded him of the night of the tornado, when he’d found his mother partying it up at the evacuation center.
“Wade,” she said, rising to her feet.
Slate glanced over his shoulder.“Howdy, Wade.”
“Raymond.”
Chico wagged his tail as Wade came forward.Meredith offered an uncertain smile.Her hair was loose and tangled, she had a dirt smudge on her cheek, and her clothing appeared damp.Even disheveled and incarcerated, she looked beautiful.
“You all right?”he asked.
She hugged the dog to her chest.“I’ve been better.”
“Were you out in the rain?”
“For a bit.”
Wade frowned at Slate.“Can you get her a blanket?”
Slate jumped out of his chair, face flushed.“Of course.”
Boyd Hendricks emerged from his office, thumbs tucked into his waistband.He looked Wade up and down, studying the Lost Lake uniform.Slate grabbed a blanket from a nearby cabinet and passed it through the bars.Wade wanted to demand her immediate release, but he summoned patience.
“We need to talk privately,” Wade said to his father.
Boyd gestured toward a hallway that led to his office.With one last look at Meredith, Wade followed his father away.As soon as they were behind closed doors, Boyd settled into a leather chair behind his desk.Wade took the seat across from him.
“Why are you messing around with this girl?”Boyd asked.“She’s a beauty, I’ll grant you that, but she’s half-wild.What briar patch did she crawl out of?”
Wade didn’t bother to respond.
“Slate says she’s the Poison Rose, to boot.”
“Are you going to charge her with something?”
“I haven’t decided yet.”
Wade gritted his teeth in irritation.“There’s a problem in Lost Lake.”
“Oh?”
“It involves Cameron Pickett.”
