“Who was your physician in Hubb NE?” Ilya asked quietly.
“I don’t need medication.” I’d always been afraid when he suggested that.
“When who suggested it?” Ilya asked, making me think I’d said the words out loud. “I didn’t suggest it. Perhaps tea and whiskey? Isn’t that a drink humans find calming?”
“I don’t have the tea, but I have the whiskey,” Julian said. He leaned against the doorway. Blocked the doorway.
“Victoria? Who is this he you speak of?” Ilya asked.
He knew. We all knew. I had reacted to one man’s bit of temper as if he were someone else.
“I was interested in your X-rays.”
I blinked. “Why?”
“They document broken bones.” Ilya continued to look at me, quiet and benign.
Why did he think I would have broken bones?
Then I got it. “He never hit me. He threatened to sometimes when he was very angry, but Yorick never hit me.” Words had been his fist of choice. So not something I was going to tell my attorney, who might be sitting quietly to avoid upsetting me but was far from benign.
How did I end up surrounded by scary men? Ilya, Aiden, Conan, Cougar, even Grimshaw. Even Julian.
“Would you take credit for someone else’s achievement when you had nothing to do with that achievement?” Ilya asked.
“No.”
“Then don’t take credit for someone else’s mistakes. Yorick Dane and his friends were told they couldn’t bring heavy equipment into The Jumble. They were told motorboats were forbidden on the lake. They chose to ignore the rules. If you had been there, could you have stopped them? Would they have listened?”
“No,” I said.
“Since they wouldn’t have listened to you, I strongly suggest that you not accept guilt for actions you didn’t commit and could not have stopped.” Ilya stood up. “I still want the name of your former doctor. You can drop it off at my office on your way home.”
Ilya and Julian left the break room. Julian returned a minute later and sat down.
“I’m sorry,” I said.
Julian rubbed a hand over his mouth. Then he sighed. “During the months when you were restoring The Jumble and teaching yourself how to run a business—how to run a resort—I thought you were a little nervous sometimes, especially around men. I figured you were emotionally burned by your divorce, and definitely gun-shy about dating, but you were getting on with your life. I never imagined you experienced panic attacks this severe.”
I felt sick with shame.
“It doesn’t take much, does it? Just the wrong phrase or the wrong smell or seeing the wrong person and it all comes back. The pain, the fear.” Julian tried to smile. “I can’t watch the cop and crime shows you enjoy so much. I never know when the wrong combination of things will be in the story, and then I’m back in that alley trying to get away from men who want to kill me, not sure if I can get up and find help before I bleed out. I triggered this in you today, and I’m the one who’s sorry. The last thing I want to do is sound like your ex.”
“You don’t. I’m not even sure what I heard.”
“I understand that.”
Sproing was such a marginal place there hadn’t been any police officers working out of the station here until Grimshaw showed up, temporarily reassigned. Had Sproing’s lack of crime been a relief to Julian, that the village could get along with calling the police in Bristol whenever there was trouble? What about now?
Had he closed his store today because he had needed to lock out all the trouble and turmoil?
“You’ve had some episodes recently, haven’t you? With all the police here investigating and the questions about the tie clippers . . . ?”
“I haven’t had any bad episodes since I bought the bookstore, not even when I had some unusual customers. But since I’ve been helping the police with these inquiries, I’ve had a few bad moments.”
“Does Grimshaw know?”
Julian shook his head. “And you’re not going to tell him.”
“You’re his friend. Don’t you think he should know what this is doing to you?”
“Vicki, if he knew, he wouldn’t ask for my help. And I have a feeling, a very strong feeling, that some lives will depend on my helping him.”
CHAPTER 68
Grimshaw
Firesday, Sumor 7
Grimshaw knocked on the back door of Lettuce Reed. When no one answered, he knocked again, louder. As he debated the wisdom of breaking down the door, he saw Vicki’s face on the other side of the glass and heard locks turning.
“Officer Grimshaw.”
He scanned her face. Puffy from a crying jag but no visible bruises.
Gods. He wasn’t answering a domestic call. At least, he hoped not. Abusive relationships didn’t always include sex. “I’d like to come in.” He knew how easily he could use his size and the uniform to intimidate someone, so he made an effort not to lean forward. As Julian had said, he needed to be the good cop.
“Sure,” Vicki said, stepping back to let him in. “I’m helping Julian inventory stock, and we’re having a late lunch. Would you like something to eat? We have plenty.”
“Thanks, I could use some food.” Nerves. Awfully close to the behavior he’d seen when Detective Swinn had tried to bring her in for questioning in the death of Franklin Cartwright.
He followed Vicki into the break room. Julian’s version of the Murder game wasn’t in sight, which was good. Julian, however, looked pale and rough. And having seen that particular kind of shadow in the eyes of men who had served in the wild country for a little too long, he understood some things about Julian—and cursed his friend for hiding the difficulties so well.
He’d known better than to throw Osgood, who had seen terra indigene kill other members of Swinn’s team, back into The Jumble. But he’d pulled Julian back into working with the police because he’d needed backup he could trust and he’d needed Julian’s knowledge of the people living here as well as the man’s investigative skills. He’d ignored Julian’s half-hearted attempts to back away from this tangle of deaths; he’d thought the reluctance was because of the way Julian had left the force. He hadn’t realized that by asking for help, he’d trapped his friend between feeling compelled to help and the need for self-preservation.
“Anything I should know?” he asked.
“Rough day,” Julian replied, his tone warning Grimshaw to drop the subject.
Vicki found another plate and set out the food. The amount wasn’t excessive, but Grimshaw figured neither she nor Julian had much of an appetite. He, on the other hand, was ravenous and felt grateful he didn’t have to venture into a public place to find something to eat.
“I’m going to be making a public announcement later this afternoon,” he said. “Have to explain about closing the beach and other things.”