Page 70 of Rogue Wave

The restaurant wasn’t loud, but not knowing what I might have to say or ask and knowing this was a small town where no one kept a secret, it was best to take this call elsewhere.

I moved to the front lobby, but there were several people milling about, so I stepped outside to take the call. It was the end of October, so it was cooler once the sun went down, and not many people stayed out, which gave me the perfect amount of privacy.

“Hi, Kim,” I answered.

“I’m keepin’ it quick since you’re on your date, Sheriff,” she replied without preamble. “Deputy Bitterman got into a scuffle tonight and is at the hospital gettin’ stitches.”

“Jesus.” I sighed, looking skyward as I ran my other hand over my face.

“He’s gonna have a hell of a shiner in the morning but should otherwise be fine. Kingston responded to the scene and did everything by the book, but protocol states I call you, so that’s what I’m doin’.”

“What the hell was he doing? I thought he was off duty tonight,” I said, wondering if someone had called in sick.

“He claims he was down at the shipyard asking questions about the coke found at Crescent Coral Beach. Says some of the workers got offended by the questions he was asking and threw some punches. Then they ganged up on him until someone intervened.”

I swear to Christ that man was more of a headache than he was worth sometimes.

“You’re never gonna believe who the Good Samaritan was, though,” Kim said, her smile evident through her voice.

“Just tell me,” I replied, since I just wanted to get back to my date with Hazel.

“Craig Carson.”

My head jerked back and my eyes widened. “Come again?”

“Craig Carson was there and intervened to save Bitterman from getting more than just a black eye, six stitches, and a guaranteed ribbing from the rest of the station tomorrow,” she said before I interrupted.

“Kim…I know for a fact that he was picked up by state troopers a few days ago for breaking his parole, so have someone call his parole officer and find out how he got out of jail so quickly.”

I knew because I was the one to call it in. Thanks to Dougie’s research, we’d found a restriction in Carson’s parole that limited how far he could travel without letting his parole officer know. When he’d visited Hazel at her job a few weeks ago, I’d called it in.

I didn’t do it to be an asshole, but rather to send a message that he was not welcome to visit her unannounced like that.

“Will do, Sheriff, but just so you know… He claims he did it because if cops showed up, he knew it wouldn’t look good for his parole, so he stepped in to break it up.”

He’d stepped in not because it was the right thing but because it would get him in trouble.

Classic.

“Where is he now?”

“Kingston and the other deputy took everyone’s statements and arrested two of the men—who both, by the way, claim Bitterman threw the first punch—but they had nothing on Carson, so they let him and the others go.”

I ran my hand over my face, sighing deeply. I was going to need to have a conversation with Bitterman about early retirement.

“That’s all. Everything has been taken care of, and the paperwork will all be on your desk by tomorrow morning. Go back to your date.”

She didn’t even wait for me to respond before she hung up.

I took a calming breath before I walked back into the restaurant. Just knowing Hazel was nearby eased my stress level.

It was a good thing, too, because when I walked around the corner and started my way to our table, it was to see none other than Craig Carson himself standing next to her.

He may have stopped one fight tonight, but he was clearly gearing up for another.

Obviously, my message to him to leave Hazel alone had not been received.

I needed to remind him of that and make it crystal fucking clear.