“Give us half an hour and we’ll meet you there. Yeah,” he snaps. “Then I’ll deal with the fallout.” He slams the phone back into the cradle and stares… furious… his eyes burning holes into my face.
“What?” I set my fork down as nausea spears up in my stomach. “Is someone hurt?”
“We have to go to the police station.”
My heart jumps and stumbles, wrenching painfully off track and stealing the air from my lungs. “W-why?”
“There’s a guy there.” He pushes away from the counter and circles the island, then he hooks his hand around the back of my head and pulls me clear out of my seat, crushing me to his chest and wrapping his arms around my torso. “He says he saw you on the news. He wants to talk to you.”
ROUND TWENTY-EIGHT
OLLIE
“It’s gonna be okay.” I glance across in the dark cab of my truck and study Rose’s petrified expression. Her shaky demeanor and the fear glittering in her eyes. Light emanating from the police station illuminates the side of her face, and because of that light, I’m treated to the aching view of her chattering teeth and pinched, wrinkled brows. “Billy reckons this guy is bogus. His name is Dusty, and he comes with a rap sheet longer than both our legs put together. Nothing, nowhere,anywhere,” I grit out, “proves a connection between him and any woman except his junkie wife, his junkie lover on the side, and the seven kids he has with them combined. He’s an unemployed bum who bounces from couch to couch every time one of his baby mommas gets sick of his shit. He’s asked Billy about a reward for information.” I shake my head. “There is no reward, Rose. This dude’s off his rocker.”
“You think he’s lying?” she rasps. “For money?”
I take her trembling hand and sandwich it between my palms. “Yeah. I think he’s full of shit. He never holds a job for more than a month, he’s late on child support and alimony, and he’s got nothing else going for him. This is a money scam if I ever saw one, Billy and I both think so. Butnotbringing you to see him would be a mistake, just in case.”
“In case what?” Her eyes shimmer. “You think I might recognize him?”
I unsnap her seatbelt and carefully release it, allowing it to retract into its casing, then I open my door and gently tug her across so she follows. I’m not letting her climb out alone. Not letting her walk from her door to the hood on her own.
The wind is icy and frigid, whipping her long hair back, and storm clouds roll overhead.
I’m not sure if we’re forecasted for rain or snow… or maybe hail.
Helping her down and holding on until she’s stable on her feet, I reaffirm my grip on her hand and search her eyes.
She gulps, forcing her tears down the back of her throat.
“I don’t mean to sound like a snob, but there are different kinds of people in this world, right? And folks tend to hang out with others like them.” I close the truck door and lead her toward the cop shop. “It doesn’t sound great to say, but it’s a reasonable conclusion to draw. Dusty’s baby mommas have rap sheets, too, and theylooklike each other. Hipsters hang around with hipsters. Intellectuals hang around with intellectuals.”
“You sound like a snob.”
I chuckle and draw our joined hands up, blowing warm air between like it’ll somehow stop the tremors rocking through her system. “I swear, I’m not usually such a dick. But the point I’m trying to make?” I help her up the few stairs at the front of the station doors, but before we head in, I pull her to a stop and bring her around until we stand toe to toe. “You’re not his type, Rose. If that makes me an asshole to say, then so be it.”
“So what you’re saying is?—”
“You’re classy. He’s trash. You have a brain that works well.” I shake my head. “He doesn’t have two walnuts to press together.”
She snickers, tearful and sniffling. “You should write that in a card someday. It was sweet… ish.”
“Untapped skills I never knew I had.” I rub her hands with fast, noisy strokes. “He’s looking for a payday he’ll never get, but in the spirit of turning every rock and making sure we leave nothing unchecked, it’s only right we came down here tonight and face him. Just in case.”
Nervous, she swallows and huddles into her jacket. “Okay.”
“Are you ready?”
“Are you going to hurt him if it turns out he’s just an idiot wasting our time?”
“I won’t lie. I’m tempted to smack his head against a brick wall two or three…” I flash a wide smile. “Dozentimes. Might even let you take a swing, since you learned those fancy new skills tonight.” I sling my arm over her shoulders, our hands still joined, and continue forward. “I’d like to see you smash someone else’s jaw with your elbow for once.”
She groans, dropping her head forward. “This is gonna wasteanotherhour of your sleep, and you already have so few.”
“It’s okay. I could stay up all night tonight and still work tomorrow. It’s not pleasant,” I admit, leading her through the whirring automatic doorsand into the warmth inside. “But as long as I hit the pillow tomorrow night and get a solid eight hours, I’d be fine.”
“Doctor Darling.” The woman sitting behind the front desk—Tania—isn’t a hell of a lot older than Rose. Dark hair, like Rose’s. But with soft brown, almost honey-colored eyes. She perks up with a kind smile and gestures over her shoulder. “Billy said you’d be by. He’s out back if you wanna head through.”
