“Your car went off a fucking bridge and you didn’t even fucking call me?”
I squinted at Ryan in the morning sun. A deep scowl etched his angular features, and a small vein stood out on his left temple. He didn’t look as if he was about to lose his cool. He was way beyond that. “My phone got wet,” I said. I’d thought about calling him. Briefly. But I hadn’t wanted to expend the emotional energy that calling him might take, especially since our last conversation hadn’t exactly ended on a pleasant note.
He made a strangled noise. “Your phone …” His hand tightened on his own phone, and for a brief crazy instant I thought he was going to squeeze it into a crumpled pile of metal and plastic. Then he glared at me again. “You couldn’t find another phone to call me from? After your car went off a fucking bridge?”
Leaving him in the doorway, I groaned and started walking to the kitchen. “What are you, my father? I was a little occupied and a lot exhausted. The only real rest I had yesterday was the ambulance ride to the hospital.”
He shut the door and followed me. “Were you hurt? How badly? Why did you need an ambulance?”
The level of stress in his voice surprised me and—I had to admit—sort of secretly pleased me. It was cool to know that anyone would worry about me like that—especially him, and especially after the other night.
I glanced back at him as I pulled the carafe out of the coffeemaker. “No, I wasn’t hurt, except for a lot of bruising and a cracked rib.” I dumped the remains of yesterday’s coffee into the sink and began to wash the carafe out. “I submitted to the ambulance only because I knew I’d be able to lie down—which I would not have been able to do in the back of a state police vehicle.” Since the accident had happened on a state highway, the state police had taken over the investigation. Unfortunately, that detail hadn’t kept everyone with the barest trace of authority in Beaulac PD from descending on the ER to question me ad nauseam about what had happened.
“So you’re all right?”
I gave him a nod, surprised at how tired he sounded. Maybe he’d been as upset about our fight as I had. Hearing that I’d almost died had to be pretty fucking awful, especially considering that our last words were less than pleasant. “Yeah. Car’s toast. Lost my gun. And my notebook. And my phone.” I gave a fatalistic shrug. “I’m still here, though.” I hesitated a breath. “I’m sorry. I should have let you know I was all right.”
He jerked his head in a nod of acceptance of my apology, then frowned, eyes on me as I shuffled around to make coffee. “What happened?”
“Still not really sure. I don’t know if it was an accident or an attack.” I got the coffee started and then leaned back against the counter, sighing. “I blew a tire and almost lost it. Then a big blue pickup rammed into me and I went over the side.”
He sat down at the kitchen table, expression dark and troubled. “I don’t like it.”
“Well, I wasn’t exactly liking it yesterday either. And I don’t really much like it now, to be honest, since I hurt like hell.”
Ryan glowered. “Let me guess: The doctors wanted to keep you overnight for observation, and you refused.”
I gave him my best smart-ass sweet smile. “Such a smart boy you are. You’re right. I couldn’t stand it for another minute, and I had Jill take me home. I have a cracked rib and bruised sternum, and I’m on prophylactic antibiotics since I aspirated some water as well. I came home, stayed conscious long enough to change clothes, and then fell into bed.” A shower was definitely high on my list of needs. I’d been too exhausted and depressed last night.
He slouched back in the chair. “Well, I’m glad you’re all right,” he said, tension beginning to clear from his face.
“Thanks,” I said quietly. He met my eyes and gave me a smile that was rife with a number of emotions, foremost among them apology. I returned the smile. We were cool again. Or as cool as we could be with so many uncertainties and questions hanging between us. A pang went through me at the thought that we might never get past all that. There was so much about him that felt so very right—like the fact that he clearly gave a huge fuck whether I lived or died.
“Anyway,” I continued, “I owe my life to a guy who was fishing on the river.”
“He helped get you out?”
I gave him a brief synopsis of what happened after the car went into the river, though I left out the bit about the guy hearing someone telling him to go to the bridge. I didn’t want to think about that too much, didn’t dare get my hopes up too high, only to have them shattered if Tessa’s body couldn’t survive long enough.
I swallowed back the black mood that threatened, then opened the fridge and peered in doubtfully. I didn’t have a whole lot to eat in the house. Grocery shopping hadn’t been a huge priority lately. I glanced back at Ryan. “Did you bring donuts?”
He snorted. “No, sorry. I was more concerned with making sure you were all right.”
I made a hmmfing sound. “I’ll be fine once I get coffee, a shower, and some food.”
He stood. “Go shower. I’ll make breakfast.”
“You cook?” I asked, brightening.
“No, but I’ll fake it,” he said with a grin. He pulled the carafe out of the coffeemaker and poured a mug full, added a ridiculous amount of cream and sugar, then handed it to me. “This is how you like it, right? Like drinking a candy bar?”
I laughed and took the mug. “You definitely hang out with me too much.”
The corners of his eyes crinkled. “Go shower. You stink.”
I felt better after the hot shower, though a lovely pattern of bruising was beginning to show from where the seat belt had been. I dressed in jeans and a PD T-shirt and then came back out to the kitchen.
I laughed when I saw the white box on the kitchen table. “Did you drive code 3 to the donut shop?”
He glowered at me, but his eyes were dancing. “You don’t have shit to eat in this house.”
I snagged a chocolate donut out of the box, groaning softly when I realized they were still warm. “I seem to recall mentioning that. I’ve discovered that it’s a great way to lose weight.” I took a bite, savoring the rush of sugar and fat and everything else that was bad about a donut.
Ryan laughed. “Dear God, you look like you’re having an orgasm.”
“No, this is much better. Can you give me a ride to the PD? I need to check out a new vehicle. Jill said she’d come get me when I was ready, but since you’re here, I’ll impose on you instead.”
“Sure thing. What about your gun and phone and everything else?”
I scowled. “Well, once I get the car, then I can go to the cell-phone place and get a new phone, and then go to the gun shop and buy a new gun.” Beaulac PD didn’t issue duty gear or guns. Officers were allowed to purchase their own as long as it was on the list of approved firearms. Nice in some ways. Not so nice in others.
He grimaced. “That’ll get expensive.”
I sighed. “I know.” That was the not so nice part. I picked up the donuts. “I think it’s going to be a whole-box kinda day.”
I’d only thought my old Taurus was a piece of shit. I was now the proud “owner” of an ancient Chevy Caprice, whitish, with the remains of old Beaulac PD decals clearly visible on the sides beneath a not-very-recent paint job. It stank to high heaven of cigarette smoke, the gas gauge was broken, and the foam steering-wheel cover was coming off in gritty little bits. It’s free, I reminded myself. No car loan, no gas bill, no insurance, no maintenance.
After plunking down an uncomfortable amount of money at the gun shop and the cell-phone store, I headed back to my office. A pair of blow-up swimmies had been taped to my office door, along with a flyer for swimming lessons at the community pool. “Nice,” I murmured with a smile. I pulled the swimmies off the door, my mood dimming at the sight of the note underneath telling me to report to my captain’s office when I got in. If I have to tell that damn story one more time …