"Air bag," I explained.
My condo key was on her key ring, mixed in with all her other keys. She separated it, unlocked the door, then stepped back while I went in first and disarmed the security system. She followed Wyatt and me inside. "Mom invited me tonight, too. I figured by the time I got here and back to the office, it would be time to leave anyway, so I left for the day. Do you need me for anything? I'm available."
"No, I think everything's under control."
"Does your insurance company provide a rental until the claim can be settled?"
"Yes, thank goodness. My agent said she'll make arrangements for me to get the rental tomorrow."
Siana was a lawyer; her mind was already moving ahead. "Do you have a mechanic lined up to go over your car, do a postmortem? You'll need a notarized statement-"
"No," Wyatt said. "It wasn't mechanical failure."
"Blair said her brakes failed."
"They did, but they had help. The brake line was severed."
She blinked; then she went pale. She stared at me. "Someone tried to kill you," she blurted. "Again."
I sighed. "I know. Wyatt says it's because I'm a cheerleader." I slanted him a "gotcha" look and took myself upstairs to shower, smiling as I listened to Siana swing to my defense. The smile faded as I climbed the stairs, though. Two attempts on my life were enough. This whole situation was getting on my nerves. MacInnes and Forester had better find that Dwayne Bailey had unaccounted-for chunks of time, and a nice set of fingerprints on my poor car would come in handy, too.
I eased out of my stiff, bloody clothing and let every garment fall to the floor. They were all ruined, anyway. I was amazed that a simple bloody nose could make such a mess. Finally I went into the bathroom and took a good look at myself in the full-length mirror. Bruises were definitely forming across my cheekbones, and across my nose. And on both knees, my shoulders, the inside of my right arm, and my right hip. I ached in every muscle; even my feet ached. Looking down, I saw a big bruise on top of my right foot.
Wyatt came into the bathroom while I was standing there surveying the damage. Without saying anything, he looked me over from head to toe, then gently folded me in his arms and rocked me back and forth for a while. For once, there was nothing sexual in his embrace, but he'd have had to be one sick puppy to be turned on by such an array of bruises. "You need ice packs," he said. "A lot of them."
"What I need," I replied, "is a doughnut. About two dozen of them. I have some cooking to do."
"What?"
"Doughnuts. I need to stop at Krispy Kreme and get two dozen doughnuts."
"Won't a cookie do?"
I eased away from him and turned on the shower. "Everyone was so sweet to me today; I'm going to make a bread pudding to take to them tomorrow. I have a recipe using Krispy Kreme doughnuts for the bread."
He stood frozen, his taste buds already imagining the taste. "Maybe we should get four dozen, so you can make two. That way we'll have one at home."
"Sorry. I can't work out right now, so I really have to watch what I eat. The temptation would be too much if there was a bread pudding sitting there calling to me."
"I'm a cop. I can protect you from it. I'll take it into custody."
"I don't feel up to making two," I said as I stepped into the shower.
He raised his voice to be heard over the running water. "I'll help."
I smiled again at the plea in his voice. He shouldn't have let me know he had such a sweet tooth; now I had him. I thought about torturing him by not letting him taste the pudding until tomorrow at the police station with everyone else, and that kept my mind off the problem of someone trying to kill me. It's just mental dancing, but it works for me.
I heard his cell phone ring while I was rinsing the shampoo from my hair. It was a slow go, since my left arm wasn't really in the game, but I was managing. I listened to him talking, though I couldn't understand what he was saying. Finished, I turned off the water and hooked the towel off the top of the shower door, then began drying myself as best I could.
"Come on out and I'll finish the job," he said, so I stepped out. The first thing I noticed was that he had that grim expression again.
"What's wrong?"
"That was MacInnes," he said, taking the towel from me and gently wiping me down. "Bailey's alibi checks out. Every bit of it. He was either at home with his wife, or at work, with only enough time allowed in between for him to make the drive there and back. According to MacInnes, Bailey's wife has filed for divorce, so she isn't inclined to lie for him. They'll check further, but it looks as if he's clean. Someone else is trying to kill you."
Chapter Twenty-one
We were early getting to Mom and Dad's, even though we stopped for the doughnuts and condensed milk I needed for the bread pudding. Wyatt had everything else at his house, including the size pans I needed. Yes, pans. Plural. We bought four-dozen glazed doughnuts. The smell of them made my mouth water, but I was strong and didn't even open the box.
Dad opened the door, paused while he studied my face, then said, "What happened?" in a very quiet tone.
"I totaled my car," I said, going to him for a hug; then I went on into the kitchen to face Mom. Behind me, I heard Dad and Wyatt carrying on a low-voiced conversation and I figured Wyatt was giving Dad the skinny.
In the end, I hadn't tried to conceal the bruises. Well, I did have on a pair of long pants, a light-weave cotton with pink and white stripes, and a white T-shirt tied in a knot at my waist, because if I'd worn shorts that showed the bruises on my legs, someone would have thought Wyatt was beating me and I didn't feel up to defending his honor. But I hadn't put any concealer on the bruises under my eyes, because I figured any makeup would make a mess when Mom did whatever she was bound to do to my face.