“Yes. He told me he did.”
She looked calm and collected for a woman with blood caking on her lip and cheek.
Maybe being on the right side of a gun was good therapy for her.
“He’ll probably end up in prison for what he did here today,” Truman told her.
“That’d be great.”
Truman didn’t miss the subtle quiver in her answer. The reality of her last few minutes was sinking in. Samuel noticed too.
“I’ll walk you downstairs. Let’s get someone to look at your cuts,” Samuel told her as he placed a gentle hand on the back of her arm. “You got Lionel?” he asked Truman.
“Yeah. Send Ben up when you get a chance.” He watched the two of them leave the room, pleased with what he’d seen in Samuel today. His officer had willingly gone into an active shooter situation and now was handling the victim with a gentle touch and patience.
Truman knew emotions would sneak up and swamp Sandy once she realized what could have happened today. Her body was running on adrenaline, and she would crash. He made a mental note to ask Ina Smythe to stay with her for a few days.
“He gone?” muttered Lionel into the carpet. “Can you sit me up?”
“I think you should stay in this position a little longer.” Sandy’s analogy of a dead elephant was on point.
“He threatened to smash my fingers. And my dick.”
“I didn’t hear anything.”
“Bullshit. I’m gonna file a complaint against the asshole. Guys like that shouldn’t be cops.”
Truman grinned. “Funny. I was just thinking what a great officer he is.”
“I’ll get him fired.”
“Good luck with that.” He took a deep breath and confronted Lionel dead-on. “Did you attack Bree Ingram last night?”
“Breed what?”
A chill shot through Truman’s nerves. “Last night. You assaulted another woman.”
“Bullshit. Sandy’s the only one who had it coming.”
Truth rang in the big man’s words. It wasn’t Lionel? “We’ve got your fingerprints on the knife,” he lied.
Lionel twisted his head to look at the pocketknife Samuel had tossed aside. “Well, you should. It’s mine.” His tone indicated Truman was an idiot.
Truman’s chest tightened, and he tried a different approach. “You spray-painted Sandy’s B&B, right? Then you did Bree’s stable.”
“I didn’t do no stable. Why are you asking me this shit?”
Truman stepped closer to Lionel’s head and squatted as Samuel had minutes earlier.
“You gonna threaten to break my bones now?” Lionel asked.
“You didn’t spray-paint red Xs in a horse barn or on a truck?”
“Horses? Fuck no. Who said I did? They’re lying.”
Truman stared at the prostrate man for a few long seconds, his mind racing.
I believe him. Sandy’s vandalism isn’t related to Bree’s.
Was Bree attacked because of something that happened thirty years ago?
TWENTY-SIX
“What the hell is going on?” Mercy muttered as she strode into the Eagle’s Nest Police Department. “First Bree’s attack last night and now Sandy’s today? Is the moon full?”
“Not full,” replied Ben Cooley from where he sat at Lucas’s desk. “I already checked. Trust me—our calls double when it is full. Hospital ERs swear they experience the same thing.” He was completely serious.
Mercy smiled at the older officer, pleased he appeared fine after dealing with the attack on Sandy. “What’s the word from Lucas?” she asked.
His face fell. “No change in Bree’s condition,” he said in a glum tone. “I’ve had twenty phone calls asking about Bree—and now more calls are coming in about Sandy. Those two women are important to this town.”
“They are,” Mercy agreed. “I know a lot of residents have been students of Bree’s over the years and remain friends with her. Ollie says she’s a great teacher.”
“She is. Got awarded teacher of the year for Oregon last year.” His chest puffed as if he’d won the award himself. “She has a gift for working with teenagers. And everyone knows Sandy sits on that secret town council,” he finished with a whisper and a wink, pulling another smile from Mercy. She’d attended a few monthly meetings with the group of women who met to discuss the needs of the people of the town. They were amazingly effective given that they operated without a tax base. They relied on the kindness and generosity of the residents to make a difference.
“Where is Sandy now?” she asked.
“Truman sent her to Ina’s. He told her Ina shouldn’t be alone while her daughter-in-law is in the hospital. Getting to the hospital is too hard of a trip for Ina,” he added in a confidential tone. “But he mainly wanted someone to be with Sandy after her attack.”
And to keep Sandy away from Bree’s hospital room.
Her suggestion to Truman that Sandy could have been involved with Bree’s attack now felt a bit foolish in light of Sandy’s own attack.
“Truman in back?”
“Yep. Go ahead.”
She heard Ben answer a call as she headed toward Truman’s office. “Eagle’s Nest PD.” Pause. “No, I don’t know how Bree Ingram is doing, and no, Lucas isn’t here to answer questions.”
She knocked lightly on Truman’s door and pushed it open at his call. He was eating a big takeout salad that she recognized as being from the pizza parlor. She sniffed the air, smelling oregano. He was eating lunch late.
“Sorry, I already ate the pizza,” he admitted. “Do you want me to order some more?”
“No, I grabbed a sandwich.” She plopped into a chair. “Are you as drained as I am?”
“Hell yes.” He put down his fork and came around his desk, pulling her up out of the chair and into his arms. “I just need to feel you for a bit.”
She closed her eyes. He smelled of pizza and Central Oregon sunshine. Some of her stress from the last twenty-four hours melted away.
Without changing position he reached past her and shoved his office door shut. His lips covered hers and she let all thoughts of robbery, murder, and money escape for a few minutes.
“We’ve had no time alone,” he said against her mouth.
“Trust me, I’ve noticed.”
“We’re supposed to be planning a wedding.”
“Other things have taken priority lately. We still have over six months.”
“According to my sister, we’re already six months behind,” he answered, running his hands over her as if he hadn’t touched her in days.
“The bridal magazines Pearl keeps giving me say the same.” Mercy sighed. “I think things operate a little differently here in Eagle’s Nest. I’m not worried about booking a venue or caterer a year in advance.”
“Nope.”
They spent a few more seconds in each other’s arms, and when he took a deep breath, she knew those stolen moments were over. “Evan Bolton says the county lab didn’t get a hit on the fingerprints from the knife used on Bree yet. According to him, there were a few good ones set in the blood.”
Blood. Their romantic respite was definitely finished.
“Good prints, but not in any major databases.” Every officer’s frustration.
Truman let her go with one final kiss and returned to his seat, focusing on his computer screen. “They’re expanding the search, checking other localized databases.”