“But he’ll come out here to check for himself whether or not I’m on the level?”
“He’s a good cop. He’s also a friend, though not romantically.” And Jesse was somewhat protective of her, not because of any romantic feeling but because he was afraid being chief of police would make her a target for people who didn’t know the position was administrative and wanted to show up the “lady chief.” She lived alone in an isolated area, something she still sometimes felt uneasy about, so she was grateful for the attention he paid to her welfare.
Come to think of it—Jesse always checked in when he left for the night, and last night he hadn’t. The omission was so unusual Bo swiftly got her cell phone and called Jesse’s cell, her brow knit with worry.
Jesse answered on the second ring. “Mornin’, Chief.”
She blew out a breath of relief. “I was worried. You didn’t check in last night, and I just realized it.”
“Ah . . .” Jesse fell silent, as if he couldn’t think what to say. Bo could practically feel his embarrassment.
“What happened?” she demanded. “Is anyone hurt?”
“Hurt? No! No, it isn’t anything like that.”
Now it was her turn to say, “Ah.” Jesse was crazy about one of the stylists, Kalie Vaughan, at Daina’s salon. Lately Kalie had been saying yes when he asked her out, and she suspected Jesse’s forgetting to check in had something to do with Kalie—either a fight, or not a fight. She smiled, because she strongly suspected the situation was not a fight. She said, “Okay. Tell Kalie good morning for me.”
Startled, Jesse yelped, “How did you—” and she laughed and pumped a fist in the air in victory at guessing right. Not only that, she and the rest of the town had been rooting for them; they were both very well liked, and just fit together, as if they’d been made for each other and were only now realizing it.
“Okay, you got me,” he said sheepishly.
“Yes, I did.” She didn’t try to keep the smugness out of her tone. “I’ll be in around noon unless you need me before then.”
She clicked off the call and found Morgan watching her as intently as ever, his gaze so sharp and focused that it made a chill race up her spine as she saw again what a dangerous man he was when he wasn’t recovering from being shot. No, he was still dangerous, and she’d felt his hand around her throat as evidence of that. He was a wounded predator, but a predator still.
“What’s going on?” he asked, his muscles tense as if preparing to swing into action, though what he thought he could do considering how weak he was—
He’d do whatever was necessary. She knew it without question, though she had precious little to go on other than the direct fierceness of his gaze, and his explosive reaction when he was startled out of sleep.
“Nothing,” she said, then when his gaze flashed she amended, “Nothing of an official nature, anyway. Jesse has been seeing someone we all really like and she’s why he forgot his check-in call last night.”
He relaxed against the back of the sofa to finish his sandwich. Bo picked up his empty cup and indicated it. “Want another?”
“Please.”
Bo went back to the coffeemaker and did the routine, grabbing some more of her own coffee and looking around for Tricks while the cup filled. Tricks was in the corner nosing through her toy box, though most of the stuffed animals were on the floor in front of the sofa. She found a dirty chewed-up old bone; it was covered with hair from where she’d wallowed on it, and some of her fur had gotten stuck on the rough places. All in all, it was a disgusting sight, but not to Tricks; carrying it proudly, she pranced over to the newcomer, where she laid it on the sofa beside his leg, then backed up a few steps and watched him with bright eyes, obviously waiting for something. Her plumy tail wagged gently back and forth, as if encouraging him.
“What does she want?” he asked, raising his voice a little.
“For you to either throw it, praise her for having such an excellent selection of toys, or play tug of war. Or, if she really likes you, she brought it to you for you to chew on. She’s generous that way.”
He made a rough, kind of gasping sound that could have been almost a laugh, but she wasn’t certain. “Do I get to pick?”
She took pity on him; she delivered the fresh cup of coffee and grabbed the bone from beside his leg before Tricks could snatch it up to prevent her from getting it. “Never show weakness,” she advised. “If you do, you’re beyond human aid.”
He snorted. “She’s a retriever, not a tiger.”
“She’s a force of nature, and don’t forget it.” Bo’s tone held humor, but she was also serious. She was the only known human whom Tricks acknowledged in any way as being in charge—not that she wasn’t fond of other people, because Tricks loved people in general, but she tended to think they existed to pet her, praise her, and give her anything she wanted. Bo worked hard to keep Tricks from being a pest—unless she was pissed off at the person in question, in which case she let Tricks be as much of a pest as she wanted, which could be awesome.
To prove she could be single-minded, Tricks began trying to butt the bone out of Bo’s hand. “You can have it,” Bo said, relinquishing the bone, “but you have to go lie down to chew it. Go on, go lie down.”
Tricks turned her head away, as if she couldn’t believe she was hearing such nonsense.
“Go lie down,” Bo repeated. Tricks went back to the sofa and hit Morgan on the knee with it. Bo said, “No,” and took the bone away from her. Without another word she put the bone back in the toy chest, and closed the lid.
The dog actually made a huffing sound. Bo ignored her and focused on Morgan. “When you finish that cup of coffee, do you want to try for a shower? If you don’t feel like standing up, I can get a plastic chair and put it in the tub.”
“I can stand up,” he said, his tone gruff.
“Great. Do you want me to get anything out of the duffle for you? A change of clothes, bandages?” She was fairly certain bandages should be involved.
“Just a change of clothes.”
“No bandages?” she pressed.
“The surgery was a month ago. All of that has healed.”
“Uh huh. What about any incisions for tubes, things like that?” She didn’t bother keeping the suspicion out of her tone.
“Healed enough,” he said flatly. “I’m through with that.”
She could scarcely hold him down and bandage him against his will, especially since she didn’t know exactly where he might need a bandage, so she shrugged one shoulder. “It’s your call. Anything in particular you want to wear? Sweatpants, anything like that?”
His face was impassive. “A change of underwear, socks, shaving kit. The rest doesn’t matter. I’m not going anywhere.”
He didn’t like the idea of her going through his duffle; she knew that because she wouldn’t like it either if she were in his position.
“If you’d rather I not prowl through your things, just say so.”
“I would have. I don’t care.” His tone was flat.
“Good enough.”
“There’s a weapon in there, though.”
“I’m not surprised. Are you licensed?” Even if he wasn’t, this was another of those instances, such as not booking Daina for public intoxication, where she’d use her own judgment rather than strictly follow the law.
“I am in Virginia.”
That, too, was good enough. Virginia and West Virginia had reciprocity laws regarding concealed carry permits. Then she had another thought. “Under which name?”
There was still no expression on his face. “Both.”
Man, she would sure like to know what organization he was with. Government for certain, but which of the myriad alphabet agencies? But going on the theory that in this case ignorance might be the best policy, she didn’t ask. He was covered in case Jesse did some investigating, and that was the important thing.
She pulled the duffle around so he could see what she was doing, t
hen crouched beside it and unzipped it. Finding his shaving kit was easy, because it was on top. She set it aside. Under the shaving kit was a pistol case for a Glock 41, Gen4. It was heavy and in the way, so she pulled it out and set it aside too; likewise with the three boxes of ammo. “You think three is enough?” she asked, wondering exactly what he was worried about in Hamrickville.
“If I didn’t, I’d have more.”
His socks and underwear were neatly rolled. Socks, tee shirt, and boxer briefs were set aside. A quick feel through the duffle unearthed one pair of sweatpants, which she selected on the theory he’d be more comfortable in them than in either jeans or tactical pants, which constituted the rest of his pant selection. He had tee shirts, a few flannel shirts, and one faded red sweatshirt. He wouldn’t need anything that heavy unless he was going outside, something she didn’t think he’d be doing today. “Will this do?” she asked, indicating his selections. “Do you have any other shoes? Sneakers, maybe?”
“I think there’s a pair of sneakers in one of the side pockets.”
“Do you want them?”
“Yeah. Socks on a hardwood floor can be tricky.”
That was the truth. She noted the size of his sneakers—eleven and a half—and made a mental note to pick him up some socks with no-slip strips on the bottoms. He might sneer at them, but they’d be here if needed. And if he never wore them, she wouldn’t be out anything more than a couple of bucks.
She took the selections into the bathroom and got a couple of towels and a washcloth from the linen closet, laying those out for him too. There was shower gel in the shower, a non-slip pad in the bottom of the tub, and a rubber-backed bath mat for him to step onto. There was also a towel rack he could use to balance himself while stepping in and out of the tub, though she hoped he didn’t put a lot of weight on it or he and the rack would both go down.
By the time she was finished delivering and checking, he’d made his slow way to the bathroom. He moved carefully and he had his left arm kind of braced over his chest, but he’d made it and didn’t look as if he’d die any moment.
“Just yell if you’re too worn out to make it back to the sofa.” She kept her tone brisk and matter-of-fact. “I’ll be eating my oatmeal.”
“Thanks, but I’m good,” he said, and she figured he’d rather punch himself in the face than ask for help again.
She sat on one of the stools at the kitchen counter, eating her nuked oatmeal and sliced banana, but mostly sucking in another cup of coffee and listening to the sound of the shower. After a while the shower cut off, then another running water sound took its place; he was standing at the lavatory, shaving.
Bo had finished, rinsed her bowl and spoon and put them in the dishwasher, and was thinking about a third cup of coffee when he left the bathroom. Steam and dampness spilled out of the open door, though he’d had the ventilation fan running. His dark hair was wet and looked as if he’d combed it by running his fingers through it, but he was freshly shaved, and his expression drawn as if the exertion had sapped him. Both sweatpants and tee shirt hung on him. He slowly made his way back to the sofa and eased down.
“Do you want another cup of coffee?” she asked.
“No, thank you. Two was plenty.”
Two was probably the limit of what he needed to drink, too, considering what an effort it was to get to the bathroom and back. That didn’t need saying, though. She collected his cup and dealt with it, then said, “All right, I need to get moving. I’m going to town to stock up on groceries, then I have to be back in town by noon. Will you be all right here by yourself?”
He glanced up at her and the same thought shimmered between them: He had to be. He didn’t have a choice. “I’ll be fine.” Then he glanced at Tricks, who was being good and playing with her stuffed animals. “What about Princess?”
Bo’s mouth curved with amusement as she realized she’d never told him Tricks’s name. “Her name is Tricks. T-R-I-C-K-S.”
“I thought it was Princess. That’s what you called her yesterday.”
“Princess is her title, but her name is Tricks. Besides, I call her a lot of things. For the first year of her life she thought her name was No No You Little Shit.”
His eyes lit, and something remarkable happened. Mr. Stoic tilted back his head and laughed.
CHAPTER 7
BO MADE A MAD DASH TO TOWN AND SUPERMARKET with Tricks riding shotgun. She was uneasy about leaving a stranger alone in her house though, really, what was he going to do? Go through her kitchen cabinets? He might crawl up the stairs but he sure couldn’t climb them, and there was nothing more interesting there than her underwear drawer if he got his jollies that way. She doubted he’d make the effort, though, even if he were capable of it. He hadn’t even wanted the TV on. She suspected he’d gone back to sleep as soon as they left.
The thin layer of snow was already melting and the roads were in good shape. She left Tricks in the Jeep, with the windows down a little for some cold fresh air, and made a record-breaking trip through the supermarket.
First, because it was most important, she restocked on food and treats for Tricks. Then she backtracked to the front of the store and began loading up on fresh fruit and some veggies, though fresh vegetables generally needed some sort of cooking and she didn’t do much of that, but maybe she’d throw together a loaded salad, or something. She got frozen pizzas, he-man milk, bacon and eggs, canned biscuits, frozen pancakes and waffles, anything she could think of that was fast, easy, and something a guy might eat. Pancake syrup. The makings for hamburgers. Chips and salsa. Cheese, cheese, and more cheese. Olives? Did men eat olives? But olives reminded her of Italian food, so she got some frozen lasagna and the makings for spaghetti, which called for garlic bread. My God, feeding the man was likely to eat up everything Axel was paying her!
She didn’t take the time to edit her selections or plan any meal in particular because she was in a hurry. When she was checking out, the tiny white-haired cashier, Miss Virginia Rose—a retired schoolteacher who hadn’t taken well to retirement so she’d gotten a job at the supermarket where she could keep tabs on the whole damn town—raised her eyebrows at the mountain of food Bo loaded onto the conveyor belt. “Goodness, I’ve never seen you buy so much food.”
Miss Virginia wouldn’t directly ask, but she would certainly set the table for confession.
Bo was happy to oblige. The best way to avoid the appearance of guilt was to be up front with as many details as possible. “An old friend is staying with me for a while. Can you say ‘junk-food junkie’?” She pushed two packs of Oreos forward, one regular and the other golden so he’d have a choice. She might snag one or two of them herself.
Miss Virginia might have wanted Bo to enlarge on the old friend, but she was in a hurry and resisted. News would get around town soon enough. She couldn’t hide him, didn’t intend to try. If people thought there was a mystery, they’d start trying to solve it, and nothing good would come of that.
She paid cash for the mountain of food, her normal procedure these days. Once she’d have swiped a card without thinking, but when she’d hit her limit on multiple cards while she was renovating the barn, she’d had to learn different habits. The grand total on the bill made her wince, which reminded her she needed to check her bank balance some time today to make certain Axel had deposited the promised funds. What time did banks credit electronic transfers, anyway? Her inquiring mind really wanted to know.
She loaded the groceries into the back of the Jeep. Tricks had been perfectly content watching people come and go, though Bo received a welcome lick when she slid behind the wheel. She scratched behind Tricks’s ears and said, “Let’s go, sweetie. I want time to take you for a nice long walk before we head to the station.”
Her tire tracks when she’d left were the only ones on the snowy driveway, meaning her guest hadn’t changed his mind and driven away during the not-quite hour and a half she’d been gone. The Tahoe was still in the same place, its windshield s
till covered with snow. There were no tracks leading from the house to the SUV, so he hadn’t even gone outside.
She let Tricks out of the Jeep and watched as she dashed around, smelling things, peeing, and smelling more things. She let the dog nose around while she got one bag of groceries out of the back and unlocked the door to take them in.
Morgan was asleep, one leg stretched out and his right foot on the floor. His left arm was curled across his chest, his right arm dangled. The blanket was kind of over him, but mostly not. If the noise of her entry hadn’t wakened him, she saw no reason why he shouldn’t continue sleeping. His body needed the rest.
Hurriedly she brought in the rest of the groceries, put them away, then grabbed Tricks’s tennis ball and headed out for their walk. By the time they returned, she had just forty minutes before she was supposed to be at the station.
She hesitated, glancing at the sleeping man. Let him sleep, or wake him up for a quick sandwich? He needed to eat, but he also needed to sleep or he wouldn’t be doing so much of it. What did she know about taking care of invalids? Not much, obviously. Now, if he were a dog, she’d be much more adept. When she’d gotten that little ball of fur she’d named Tricks, she’d been so terrified of her own ignorance that she’d read every article and book she could find on taking care of dogs. She’d never been the warmhearted, nurturing type, so it was ironic she’d landed in this role.
She hesitated for a minute, then slapped together a ham and cheese sandwich, put it in a sandwich bag along with some chips, and set them as well as a glass of water on the coffee table where he’d see them when he woke up. That would have to do.
She and Tricks drove back to town. On the way, she called the bank to ask about electronic transfers, and after a few minutes of holding, the head cashier picked up again and said, “Chief, we had a transfer come in overnight for you. It’s already been credited to your account.”
“That fast?” Bo asked, her heart rate suddenly doubling. Until then the money had been a possibility rather than a reality, and the realization that she was no longer mostly broke was so startling that she stammered something about her share of an inheritance and hung up.