Chapter 5
Elenie
The next few days grew warmer and warmer, the gentle heat blissfully welcome after a capricious Michigan spring. With no need for long sleeves, Elenie enjoyed the brush of the light afternoon breeze against her bare arms and the sun on her back.
The track through the trees was a shortcut that trimmed her commute to work by twenty minutes, as it bypassed a far longer loop of road that wound up the hill. It was a steep climb on the walk home but, apart from when it was very hot or excessively wet, Elenie tackled the path to and from town twice a day, most days of the week.
She gave the patrol car parked at the bottom of the track a wary second glance, her shoulders loosening when she found it to be empty. Heading up the cool tree-covered path, she watched her step on the root-threaded ground; it was uneven but not slippery. She let her mind empty and her thoughts wander as she walked. The peace was welcome. This time to relax after the rush of the diner and before she reached home was precious, especially when she never knew what the evening might bring.
Rounding a bend, more than halfway up the hill, her feet slowed at the sight of Dougie Taggart, local police deputy, hunched on the ground at the base of a tree. He swore colorfully and fluently, his rasping words becoming clearer as Elenie drew closer—angry yet somehow unthreatening. He sounded more like a popular high school teacher having a terrible day than a scarily pissed officer of the law.
Caution had Elenie checking around, hoping to find someone else to step in and take charge, but that was stupid. She maybe crossed paths with another person on this track twice a month, which made seeing the deputy all the more of a surprise.
“You alright, sir?”
When Taggart raised his head, skin pallid, mouth twisted in pain, Elenie’s stomach swooped up toward her throat. She smothered a curse of her own. He wasn’t alright. Jogging the last couple of yards, she dropped to her knees in the dirt beside him.
The deputy was gripping the top of one thigh with both hands, sweat running down the sides of his face, while blood oozed between his fingers.
“Fucking Renner kids caught me with a BB gun. My leg’s on fire but I don’t think the pellet’s hit anything major. Fucking little fuckers.”
He blew out a shaky breath, dirty blond hair plastered against his damp forehead.
“I’ll get up in a minute. Just need a moment.”
“Let me look.”
Elenie pried his hands away from his leg. The wound wasn’t pumping, but it didn’t look pretty. Fresh blood, saturating the material surrounding the jagged tear in his pants, seeped steadily as the pressure was lifted.
“Car’s at the bottom of the hill—left my cell and radio in it. I was chasing a stray. What a dumbass. You got a phone?”
He eyed her lack of a purse or jacket.
“No, sorry.”
Taggart closed his eyes and leaned back against the tree, looking impossibly young and surprisingly vulnerable. Less of an intimidating authority figure and more just a man of her own age needing help. Elenie looked down at her clothes. The skirt and polo shirt gave her nothing to work with for a bandage, and she wasn’t carrying anything else with her. The deputy’s short-sleeved shirt and pants were no help either.
Checking his eyes were still shut, she half turned away from him. Elenie pulled her arms swiftly through her bra straps and unhooked the back clasp. She sighed internally at the loss of one of her only two bras before tugging the thin scrap of cotton out through the left sleeve of her top.
The irony of stripping off her underwear in the present company didn’t escape her, given that her main aim in life was to avoid the attention of the Pine Springs PD. But Dougie Taggart gave off no leery vibes—and Elenie was an expert at spotting them. Plus, not only was he oblivious to the surreptitious maneuver, she was also one hundred percent sure she could take him in a fight right now, with one carefully applied finger to the thigh.
Slipping off her sneakers, she removed both short, white socks and laid them together to form a pad, gently moving Dougie’s hands away as he opened his eyes.
“Press this over the top, sir.”
When she wrapped her bra around his leg, he flushed but didn’t comment.
“I need to pull this tight but you can swear all you like. I’ll have heard it before.”
She did. And he did. And she had. But the wound was soon carefully bound by the sock/bra bandage, and this time they both let out a ragged breath.
“Think you can try to stand on it?”
“We’ll soon find out.”
The deputy’s voice was grim but determined.
“I’m Elenie,”
she told him, for something to say, as she reached out both hands. It was all she could do to pull him to his feet.
“I know who you are.”
Of course he did.
The walk back down the hillside was a slow one. The deputy leaned heavily on Elenie’s shoulder. It was a strange experience to be so physically close to someone she didn’t know. Her skin prickled with self-consciousness and she could feel her neck growing warm and damp. But the small kernel of pleasure that spread from her chest at the sensation of being needed overpowered the awkwardness. If her support helped Officer Taggart get down this track, she would let him use her for a crutch without complaint.
“The chief will give me so much shit for leaving my radio in the car. I don’t blame him either. I’ll probably be given every crappy callout until I retire.”
“What kind of crappy callouts are there?”
Elenie asked, steering him around an overhanging branch. She regretted the question as soon as it left her mouth. Her family were likely responsible for most of them.
“Jarvis Wheelwright’s late-night bacon thieves.”
Dougie dragged air in through his nose.
“Hold on—bacon theft? Is that even a thing?”
Sweat beaded on the deputy’s top lip.
“Sure is. Jarvis gets wasted every Saturday, comes home with the munchies, and then calls us on a Sunday morning, moaning that his bacon’s been stolen.”
Elenie gave a strained laugh.
“Cheese is the most frequently stolen food in the world,”
she told him.
“There was a car chase in New Zealand—I forget when—after a couple stole a whole load of Cheddar off a train and the thieves chucked lumps of cheese out of the car window at the cops while they tried to escape.”
Dougie limped on.
“Absolutely not true.”
“Absolutely is.”
The deputy looked at her sideways.
“You’re funny, you know that?”
“Funny ha-ha or funny peculiar?”
Apparently, bonding over a gunshot wound did away with the need to stand on ceremony.
“Maybe a bit of both.”
They stopped briefly to check her bra wasn’t slipping and to let him catch his breath. The white cotton was stained pink and Elenie’s shoulder screamed from supporting his weight.
“Not far now. You doing OK?”
He nodded and they set off again.
“The Renner kids will be dying a death right now. If they know they winged you.”
He swiped the back of a bloody hand across his face.
“I hope they are, the little shits. And they definitely know they got me because I yelled like a stuck pig.”
Elenie couldn’t help a snicker at the deputy’s honesty.
“How did it happen, anyway?”
“Target practice, I think. Or they were shooting at road signs. Or maybe, just fucking shooting—I don’t know.”
He stumbled, but Elenie propped him up.
“Come on, you’ve got this,”
she coaxed.
“I can see the car. Tell me about the stray you were chasing. I haven’t seen a dog on this path before.”
It took them another ten minutes to reach the patrol car, and by the time they got there Elenie was drained. She sank to the ground, listening to Taggart radio for assistance. Her breath sawed in and out of her chest; her polo shirt was soaked with sweat. She’d waved goodbye to any chance of ticking her uniform over another day without a wash. A few loose curls were stuck to her neck and smears of dust and blood marked her hands and clothes. She was a mess.
The deputy slid onto the tufted grass by her side in the small patch of shade.
“The chief’s on his way.”
“Which one?”
“The new chief. Roberts has gone. He’ll be in Clearwater, Florida, by now, terrorizing the tuna.”
Hurrah to the gods of all that is merciful. Even so, it was time to beat a strategic retreat. In a minute. In just a minute.
Elenie leaned her head against the car. Her arms and legs felt like soggy straws.
“You’re so much heavier than you look.”
“Rude. Maybe you’re just a weakling.”
“Hey, I carry trays for a living. And the good old residents of Pine Springs can eat their own weight in waffles. I have muscles.”
“Sure you do, Noodle Arms.”
“Ashrab mah al-bahr.”
“I beg your pardon?”
“It’s Arabic. It means, ‘Go drink seawater.’”
Elenie’s smile slipped; she was gripped with a momentary panic that she’d overstepped the mark. What happened to thinking these things, rather than voicing them? She’d obviously shed her restraint along with her bra. Remember, he is a police officer, not a friend.
“I didn’t mean that,”
Elenie mumbled, uncomfortable all over again. She pushed herself to her feet, wrapping her arms around her chest.
“I’d better go.”
The young deputy stared up at her, a pained grin pulling at one side of his mouth.
“Thanks, Elenie.”
He looked exhausted, battered, but not offended, and relief eased her breath.
The sound of tires on asphalt disturbed the momentary silence. Roman Martinez parked his Ford Interceptor behind Dougie’s patrol car and killed the engine. Backing up as his long legs descended from the SUV, Elenie kicked herself for not leaving sooner.
Martinez spared her a quick glance and a nod. He dropped to the ground by Taggart’s side, jaw tight, placing a first aid kit beside him in the dirt.
“What—?”
“Elenie’s bra.”
Dougie managed a grin.
A thousand volts punched Elenie in the sternum as those raven eyes shot to her face and down to her chest, before Martinez dragged them straight back up again, his shadowed, narrow face instantly mortified. Elenie shrugged and colored, blood sizzling in her veins like water on a hotplate.
“Not sure you’ll want it back.”
His voice was gruff and he didn’t look at her again, but his hands moved gently as he cut through the elastic with a sharp pair of scissors. Dougie blew out a long breath and Elenie tried not to wince as the two ends of her bra fell into the dust. Swiftly and efficiently, the chief peeled away the bloodied socks, sliced a rough, rectangular opening in Dougie’s pants, cleaned and redressed the wound. He bound it neatly with a fresh bandage far better suited for the job than her tatty cotton underwear.
“You’re lucky the blood loss is no worse. The flow’s already slowing.”
“Yeah, feeling really lucky right now.”
Dougie, white-lipped and clammy, managed a tight-throated chuckle.
“I’m using the term loosely.”
Martinez smiled, and Elenie couldn’t help but notice how it transformed his serious face, lighting the hollows and relaxing his jaw.
“You’re lucky it was a BB gun and that your pants took some of the impact.”
“If I was really lucky, it would have missed me,”
Dougie groused.
“Either way, it’s time to get you some expert help. We’ll take my car. I’ll get someone to collect yours later.”
Martinez climbed to his feet, reaching down to clasp the deputy’s hand. When Dougie’s feet slid on the sandy soil, Elenie stepped forward, and between them they pulled him upright and helped him hobble around to the passenger door.
“I can drop you in town and have someone give you a ride home?”
he suggested.
She was shaking her head before Martinez had finished. In no scenario whatsoever would she be placing her dust-covered, sweaty backside voluntarily in a police vehicle, no matter how much her internal voice groaned at the thought of the return trek up the hillside.
“I’m fine. I can walk. Just go and get him sorted.”
“Yes, I need me some drugs and a pizza the size of my head—not necessarily in that order. It’s been a bitch of a day!”
Dougie leaned across to shout through the driver’s window.
Elenie exchanged a look with Martinez; amusement skittered between them like a tentative touching of fingers. Finding it almost impossible to keep her thoughts straight under the focus of his full attention, she stepped back.
“I’ll leave him with you then.”
He gave her a brief smile as he wrenched open the door. Elenie tried and failed to look away as his biceps bunched and rippled beneath the short sleeves of his shirt. Muffling a swoony sigh, she lectured herself on the benefits of keeping it real. This skyscraper of masculine perfection had already been exposed to her pathetic excuse for a bra and, undoubtedly, the arrest record of her entire family. On their first meeting, she’d been called scum and covered in vanilla ice cream and chocolate milkshake. For their third, she’d been accused of theft. And now, wearing a sexy mixture of perspiration, blood, and grime, she was ogling his muscles as if she had a fighting chance of ever being able to touch them.
In your dreams, Noodle Arms.
Dougie Taggart shot her a warm and weary grin as they cruised away. He raised his hand and Elenie nodded. She didn’t bother watching until they were out of sight; she had a long walk home and a ton of laundry to do.