“Good.” Malloy stood, sliding the notebook into his wrinkled jacket pocket. “We need to go down to the station and finish up with the paperwork.”
A nurse plunked coins into the vending machine, and a candy bar dropped to the open slot. She grabbed it and walked down to a large counter. Josie watched her leave, then turned toward Malloy. “Why? I already gave my statement.”
“I know.” Malloy gestured toward the elevator. “But not only did you shoot a man, there are enough holes in your story to have my superiors wanting to send me back to detective school. I just need one more interview to put this entire matter behind us.”
“But my husband…” Josie stumbled toward the elevator.
“Will be fine.” Malloy pushed the down button, his face softening. “I checked with his doctors. We should have you back by the time he awakens later today.”
The door slid open, and Josie sighed before walking inside. “My story isn’t going to change.”
Malloy raised a bushy eyebrow, poking the button for the parking garage. His gray suit sat frumpy and wrinkled on his large frame, but a shiny green tie brightened the entire look. Nothing brightened his hangdog face.
“Don’t you ever sleep?” Josie frowned.
“As soon as we file the paperwork on the shooting, I’m taking some time off. Thanks to you, we’ve solved a huge case, and I deserve a break.” The door slid open and he gestured her toward a brown nondescript car double-parked in a loading zone.
Josie hesitated at the car.
Malloy opened the front passenger door. “It’s cleaner up here.”
She slipped past him and sat, waiting until he had stomped around the car and settled his bulk in the driver’s seat. “Are you going on vacation alone?”
He grinned, the smile making him seem years younger. “No.” Starting the ignition, he backed out of the space, his gaze on the windshield. “But there’s nothing wrong with being alone.”
His scent of peppermint and tobacco wafted through the car in an odd ambiance of comfort. “Are you trying to tell me something?” She clicked the seat belt into place.
“Kind of. I like you.” He maneuvered the large car out of the garage into the main road. “You’re smart and spunky in a really cute way.” He turned left toward the police station.
Why were hospitals always near police stations? Josie shifted in her seat. “Um, thanks?”
“You’re welcome.” He turned his attention back to the busy road, barely skirting a red sports car switching lanes. “Women rarely listen to my advice, but I feel the need to give it anyway. I think you should leave the past in the past… and move on. Away from danger.”
The big bear was trying to protect her. “You’re very sweet.”
“I am not.” The detective snorted.
“Are, too.” But the man couldn’t see that Shane and his brothers were her safe place to land. She loved and trusted Shane more than she would’ve thought possible. The realization set her firmly on her course. No matter what they’d done, or who they were, she wanted to keep them. She needed them. Family mattered, and she finally had one. “Please don’t worry about me, Malloy. I promise I know what I’m doing.”
He nodded. “Fair enough. You do seem like a smart gal. We’ll get the final paperwork done, and I’ll make sure you have a ride back to the hospital. But if you ever need anything, promise you’ll call.”
“I promise.” She eyed him from the corner of her eye. “Nice tie. Another gift?”
A light flush filtered across the detective’s worn face. “Yes.”
“Really? Who from?”
Malloy was actually blushing.
He pulled into a parking spot in front of the two-story brick building. “Let’s go inside, Mrs. Dean.”
She jumped out of the car and followed Malloy through the bustling entrance, past several uniformed young men to the same conference room as her earlier interview. The cold metal of the chair instantly chilled her butt. “You gave me coffee last time.”
Malloy smiled. “The receptionist will bring some in after she’s off the phone.” He slapped his notebook onto the scarred table. His chair scraped across the floor as he pulled the heavy frame away from the table before dropping his bulk down. His deep brown gaze settled on her face. “So. Please explain to me how your fingerprints ended up on the dead body of Billy Jones.”
*
Shane struggled to rise to consciousness. Bleach and medicinal plastic scented the air. Drugs. His blood pumped slower, his brain fuzzed. The doctors had drugged him. Probably class A narcotics—good painkillers. But something in the back of his head insisted he awaken. He needed to wake up.
But the drugs pulled him under. The dream caught him unaware, and he slid into it, accepting the return of memories.
In this dream he was an adult.
He sat against the trunk of an old pine tree, his legs extended before him, his gaze on the training field. The dusty field of hell where he’d learned to fight, where he’d learned to kill.