The sheriff spoke first. “We got your attacker locked up tight, Ms. Summers. You can rest easy on that. With the holiday weekend, he won’t be able to post bail until Monday morning.” He glanced at the EMT who nodded before saying, “We’re going to send you to the emergency room to be checked out. And then we’re done for tonight.”
Yardley shook her head. “I don’t need medical attention.”
“It’s not really an option, Ms. Summers. We need a medical opinion, and photos, of your injuries for our report. Plus DNA evidence from your clothing and under your fingernails. You don’t want us to overlook any detail that might set him free.”
Yardley set her mouth but nodded. She’d been debating whether or not to mention it. But the thought that Stokes might weasel out of the charges, because she had not actually been raped, made her decide.
She pulled the red envelope out from under her blanket. “This came last night. Left on the doorstep. I didn’t think it was important. But now…”
Sheriff Wiley slipped the picture out then looked back at Yardley, his expression carefully blank. “You should have called me right after you opened it.”
“I thought it was just a prank.”
“Let me see that.” Kye leaned in as the sheriff turned it his way. The look on his face said everything the lawman’s hadn’t. “Son of a bitch!”
“Easy, son.” Sheriff Wiley continued to watch Yardley, his face still void of expression. “This kind of thing happen before, Ms. Summers?”
“No. Oh, I get angry letters, once a year or so. All businesses do. But nothing—nothing like that.” A shiver she couldn’t repress quaked through her. She shot a hard glance at Kye, daring him to make any kind of comforting or protective move.
She’d lied to herself about the ugliness of the picture because she didn’t want to think anyone could hate her that much. But she saw the fallacy of her thinking on Kye’s face. She followed his gaze and saw that her blanket had slipped so that her torn shirt showed. There were finger bruises on her upper breast. She hiked the blanket up, its surface making a metallic rustle.
The sheriff handed the envelope off to a deputy, who carefully bagged it. “What makes you think Stokes had something to do with that piece of shit? Excuse my language.”
She told him about an incident two weeks earlier when Stokes had set a dog on another handler. “He said his department had let him go after they got my report. He wanted me to reinstate him in our program so he could get his job back. I refused.”
The sheriff and Kye exchanged looks. “I’m going to follow up on that. Police officers don’t usually get fired unless there’s a well-documented pattern of misconduct.”
He turned to Kye. “You staying here tonight?”
“Yes.” Yardley glanced up at Kye in surprise. He didn’t give her a chance to argue. “I’ll feed the dogs and lock up. Then I’ll be along to pick you up.”
Yardley nodded and stood up. She was okay until she looked into his face. Grim and tense and gray beneath his bronze skin, he looked at her with such protective tenderness that she had to work at not responding to it. No, better to stay away from his big solid strength. She was still shook up and scared to discover how vulnerable she was. She couldn’t afford to want the things his expression offered. It was sentiment, the feeling one would have for any vulnerable creature.
Count on no one. Need is weakness.
She turned to the EMT. “Let’s do this.”
*
Kye slanted a glance at Yardley. In the light from the dashboard he could only see her in profile. She was solemn and much too still for his liking. She’d stopped talking the second they’d exited the hospital. Her lip was swollen so it probably hurt to talk. The bandage above her eye covered the glued-together cut above her brow. Only her hand moved, stroking Lily, who uncharacteristically lay quietly in a lap that wasn’t his.
The emergency room was satisfied that all her injuries were superficial. She’d be sore and bruised for a while. Nothing more.
Gut churning in lingering anger for her sake, Kye turned his attention back to the road. The storminess was nothing more than flashes on the southern horizon. But the rain had grown pebbly with ice crystals. Driving had turned treacherous, requiring nearly all his attention. The part that wasn’t driving was reassessing the day.
In the little more than twelve hours since his arrival, he’d encountered the FBI, the DEA, and been witness to a felony assault that brought out half the county’s sheriff’s department. It hadn’t occurred to him that Law’s instinct was right. That there was real trouble brewing in Yardley’s life. The kind in which people could get hurt.
He needed to get up to speed. Find his phone. Check in with Law. He needed intel. Though heaven knew he couldn’t count on anything more from Yardley tonight.
His last clear view of her face was of a woman moving from anger to shock. Her eyes were unfocused by exhaustion and pain. Like a soldier sometimes did in a tough situation, she’d gone to ground, silent within her own thoughts. With only her thoughts keeping her company, he could feel her veering into dark territory.