The brief period of solitude felt like an escape. She stood in the cold air, watching Tricks nose around and choose the optimal spot to pee, and relished the quiet and aloneness. She wasn’t a recluse by any means, but the whole slightly farcical situation was too chaotic and intense for her to quite get a handle on it. She needed time to regroup, just a little, to settle herself down.
When she and Tricks went back inside, Miss Doris was waiting with a cup of hot, sweet tea. Emily and Jesse also held cups, though Jesse looked a bit self-conscious at holding the dainty teacup. He’d probably have preferred coffee, but Miss Doris thought he needed tea, so he’d drink the tea and thank her for it.
Things began winding down. Statements were taken from all involved, the medics pronounced her good to go but with the warning that she should get a friend to stay with her overnight, just in case there were any delayed symptoms.
Despite Miss Doris’s rejuvenating tea—which had indeed helped settle the jittery feeling—Bo felt tired and drained. She’d had no idea brawling was such hard work. She was able to make her escape and go to the police station, where she could do normal things such as feed Tricks, give her some water, then kneel on the floor and bury her face in the dog’s plush golden fur as she hugged her and apologized for letting her stay in the Jeep for so long. Tricks didn’t care; she was happy to be hugged and doted on, regardless of the reason.
She didn’t have the police station to herself, of course; the dispatcher, Loretta Hobson, had to get the lowdown on what had happened, the phone rang, both off-duty officers came in just to check on things, Daina heard about what had happened and called to see if she was okay, a couple of the town’s nosy old men came by on trumped-up excuses so they could see what was what and make a report at the daily gathering of the Liar’s Club at the diner, where they sat and drank coffee and chewed the fat for hours at a time.
All of that felt somewhat normal, though she began to realize she’d never live down the tale.
Dutifully Bo made herself sit down and start on the never-ending paperwork generated by even a small-town police force. That was her job, after all. She’d been at it for maybe half an hour when Jesse came in and dropped into the visitor’s chair in front of her desk.
“Sorry about that,” he said gruffly. He looked chagrined that she’d been involved in a violent situation. Jesse loved being a cop, had never wanted to be anything else, but he despised paperwork and administration to an intense degree. It had been his idea to hire her as police chief to handle the administrative side while he handled the enforcement part of it, so he was feeling guilty that she’d been hurt, however slightly.
She shrugged and felt the soreness in her right shoulder. “No one made me jump in, I just did it. I’m okay.”
“I let him take me by surprise. I know how domestics can blow up on you, and I let my guard down anyway.” His cheekbones flushed with color. Failing to meet his own standards as a cop would eat at him, and he’d make sure he never made that mistake again. He looked like such a Boy Scout with his short dark-blond hair, blue eyes, and square jaw that if someone didn’t know him, it was easy to underestimate his dedication to the job. “Are you really okay? I know the medics told you to have someone stay with you tonight.”
With an inner start, Bo remembered her houseguest. His presence would be convenient tonight, and though she didn’t think there was any need, neither would she take any chances with her health.
“Someone is staying with me,” she said.
“Who?”
“An old friend. He showed up unexpectedly yesterday afternoon.”
“He?”
“Morgan Rees. He’s in bad shape and needed a place to stay.”
Pure cop flowed over Jesse, hardening his gaze as he considered what “bad shape” could mean, and the reasons behind it, such as drug addiction. “Bad shape how?”
“He’s had open-heart surgery, then pneumonia, and he literally doesn’t have anyone to take care of him. Poor guy looks like death warmed over.”
“He’s an old boyfriend?”
“Not even that.” She could see where it was unusual that she’d open her home to someone with whom she didn’t have any real links. “He was a friend of a friend, originally. We’ve never even dated. But we got along, and he’s desperate, so . . .” She let her voice trail off and shrugged. “At least I won’t be by myself tonight.”
“Do you mind if I meet him?” That was Jesse, direct and determined.
She smiled as he hit right on her prediction. “I told him you would. Sure, come out whenever you want.” Even if that wouldn’t be the surest way to allay any of Jesse’s suspicions, she’d have wanted him to meet anyone staying with her as a safety measure. She wasn’t a scaredy-cat, but she was definitely a cautious one. It struck her that she’d never before had an overnight visitor, of either sex, and it was seldom that anyone came out to her place. That was fine with her because she liked her own space and her privacy and wanted to be able to leave any situation and go home.
“I was planning on following you home anyway to make sure you got there okay. Head injuries can be tricky.”
“I appreciate it,” she said, and meant it.
CHAPTER 8
MORGAN WAS HALF-ASLEEP WHEN HE HEARD THE JEEP return; he’d already learned its sound, but there was a second car following close behind. He sat up, glad he’d made the effort to get dressed. He didn’t have on shoes, but at least he had on pants, socks, and a tee shirt. Through the windows he saw her and the dog, followed by a guy in a police uniform. This must be the famous Jesse, come to check him out.