Then their significant others claimed dances with them, and though she found her own dance partner, something about the moment made her feel…lonely. She decided she’d had enough to drink and enough girl time for one night.
She could have just left without a word. She could have bid Reagan and Melody goodnight and headed home. But she’d gone to the bar. She could say it was because she didn’t want to interrupt her new friends’ moment with their men, but deep down, she knew she wanted to see Easton.
She wanted to hear his voice and have him smile at her in his familiar, charming way. And he’d done that. He’d even offered to walk her to her car, and part of her had wanted to say yes. Part of her now wished she had.
But in the moment it was more important to her to appear aloof and capable. She was a fool, setting herself up to be a victim.
“I stepped outside and looked around before walking to my car. I always do that, check out the parking lot to make sure no one’s waiting to jump the first person they find alone. Everything was clear. I made it to my car before someone hit mefrom behind. I fell against the car, but then someone jerked me back. Everything got fuzzy at that point. I was dragged, I think. Anyway, it took me a bit to shake off the dizziness. I figured I’d go for broke, and I headbutted the guy. Big mistake when you’ve already been hit on the head, but the guy let me go. I lost my balance and fell hard. I guess that’s when my knees and hands got skinned up.”
“Did you get a look at him?”
“Yeah. It was just a glance, but it was enough to know I’d seen him before.”
“The guy at the grocery store?” Easton guessed.
“How did you know?”
“I got a good look at him when we fought. He matched the description you gave me.”
She studied him for a moment and then continued. “I was trying to stand up before he could come after me again, but it wasn’t easy when my head felt like it was splitting open. You came out of nowhere and tackled him. He fought you off. I hit his knee. Then…I don’t know. Everything’s black after that.”
Easton filled in the blanks. “He pulled a gun and took off. You collapsed before I could chase him. I called inside the bar and had my brothers come out to help. Luke called for an ambulance while I tried to stop the bleeding from your head wound. Fortunately, you were only unconscious for a few minutes.”
Her brow furrowed. “I don’t remember the ambulance. I only remember the doctor telling me I had a concussion, and because it was late and I’d experienced a trauma, he was keeping me overnight for observation. I remember Gran being there. That’s it.”
“Understandable. You’ll likely remember the rest once you heal. Don’t force it. What you do remember is enough to aid the investigation.”
She was quiet for several seconds, and Easton waited, holding her hand until she shared what was on her mind.
“I want to ask you something...or several things. I don’t know if I should.” Her voice was low and hypnotic.
“You can ask me anything.”
She sighed. “The way you talk about an investigation and the way you went after that guy. Where did you learn that?”
“I have three brothers. Learning to fight was a way of life. Any other training I have came from my tour in the Army.”
“I’m a detective, Easton. I know when someone isn’t telling me the whole story. Admit it. There’s more that you aren’t sharing.”
“I could say the same of you.”
She sighed. “I sort of conditioned myself to hold things back because I can never be sure who I can trust. I once considered myself a good judge of character, but…”
“But you've been through a lot that made you doubt yourself. It happens. It’s happened to me.”
“Do you ever move past it?”
“Don’t move past it. Use it to fine tune your judgment. It’s what I did.”
A yawn stretched her mouth wide. “Tell me. Just that part of your story.”
“You should rest. Get some sleep before Tater comes for your statement.”
“Please, Easton. I probably won’t even remember what you say. Just talk until I fall asleep.”
Her words were slower, more measured as she fought the effects of her medicine.
“Well, you know I’m a foster kid. I never knew my mom. I grew up with my dad, who wasn’t an ideal father. He was an alcoholic who really didn’t want me around. He didn’t care what I did or what happened to me. I enjoyed the freedom of doing what I wanted, but sometimes a concerned teacher or neighbor would report his neglect. I would get placed in foster care. Some homes were good. Some not. But none of them allowed me the independence that my dad did. So I’d run away and go back to my dad. After a while, DHR stopped trying to place me with someone.”
