Chapter 7 Keira
CHAPTER SEVEN
Keira
“I wish I had better news for you,” Owen said through the phone.
I pulled a blanket over my lap, wedging myself between the couch cushions. “There’s nothing else we can do? You’re sure?”
“Afraid so. Phelan has invoked his right to an attorney and refused to answer any questions, so we can’t interrogate him again. Unless something new turns up to connect him to the shooting, we can’t consider him a suspect.”
I was quiet.
“Keira? You there?”
“Yeah. I’m still here.”
Barely.
It had been almost three weeks since I’d returned home from the hospital.
When I’d first been released, I’d stayed at Mom’s house over in Silver Ridge.
I was so grateful to Mom for taking time off work to help me, and Stephie had stayed up with me night after night when I couldn’t sleep.
I’d still been on plenty of pain meds, constantly exhausted.
A stream of well-meaning friends and neighbors had stopped by, sometimes by the hour, to visit or bring food.
The couple of times I’d gone to the station, the other deputies clapped and cheered like I was a hero.
I didn’t feel like a hero. I was a victim. A cop only in name, at least for the time being.
After the sheriff’s department had given the okay and special cleaners came, I was able to return to my own home over Mom’s objections. This was my house, dammit, and I wouldn’t let anyone scare me away.
Even if I saw demonic faces every time I closed my eyes.
So far, our only person of interest in the shooting was Donny Phelan, the podcaster with the diamond earring and cowboy hat. During my confrontation with him in the roadhouse parking lot that night, I’d told him my name. He could’ve decided to get back at me in the worst way possible.
But Donny Phelan had an alibi for the time of the shooting. He’d been at his property with half a dozen witnesses. He could’ve sent someone else after me, but with Phelan refusing to say another word, we had nothing to go on.
“We’ve been looking into other leads,” Owen said. “Arrests you’ve made in the past. Confrontations with other citizens. Any reason for someone to bear a grudge. We’ll find something. You know how quickly a case can turn around, Keira.”
“Right. I know.” I picked at the lint on the blanket.
“If you remember anything that could help us, anything else about that night, call me.”
“I will.”
The electronic lock on my front door whirred as Brynn let herself in, carrying takeout bags. She waved, and I waved back.
“Thanks, Sheriff,” I said into the phone. “Talk to you later.” Setting my phone on the coffee table, I heaved a sigh.
Brynn set the takeout bags on the kitchen counter. “That was Owen? He had an update for you?” she asked hopefully.
“Yes, but nothing good.” I made my way over from the living room. I could get around well enough, though my left arm would still be in a sling for another month as my collarbone healed.
“Phelan is untouchable, it seems,” I said. “We have no way to prove he was involved.”
“If he was.”
“Right. If he was. But it’s been three weeks, and there are no other suspects. No leads.”
“These things take time.”
“Yes, Agent Somerton,” I snarked. “I’m aware.”
Smirking, Brynn set a takeout container in front of me when I reached the dining table. “I brought enchiladas.”
“I take back my grumpiness. You’re the best.” I grabbed a plastic fork and dug in, while Brynn slid into the chair across from me.
“I live with Cole Bailey, practically the king of grumps. You’d have to get a whole lot more ornery to bother me.”
With a smile, I took a bite of my lunch, which was smothered in pork green chili. Brynn really was an amazing friend. She listened to me complain and joked around and didn’t look sad when she saw me wince in pain.
Driving was a no-go for me, so Brynn had been acting as my chauffeur whenever Mom couldn’t do it. Twice a week, Brynn took me to Hart County General for my physical therapy appointments. The therapist had me doing range-of-motion exercises that made me want to cry, but I pushed through.
I also couldn’t lift anything, even with the arm that wasn’t in a sling, or reach overhead or behind my back. Certainly no carrying groceries or laundry baskets.
Once a week, I also met with a psychologist. Before I could go back on duty after I healed, she’d have to clear me as mentally fit.
No problem at all, right?
“Need to run any errands?” Brynn stuck her fork into her enchilada.
“Nowhere to go today,” I said dully.
“Want to start a movie marathon this afternoon? The Fast and Furious franchise?” Brynn was an action-movie girl, like me, and we were all about the classics.
“I’ve already watched every thriller movie starring Jason Statham over the last week.” One of my late-night standbys, since my sleep patterns had been a mess.
“We can skip the ones Statham was in.”
“But I can’t watch the Fast movies without the full experience of the narrative arc. That’s just wrong.”
She snickered. “You’re being very difficult.”
“I know. Thanks for putting up with me.”
“Please. Like that’s a hardship.”
I poked at the last of my enchiladas. Something else had been on my mind almost constantly lately, and it wasn’t old action flicks.
“Um, B?” I asked. “Have you heard if Dean is still in town?”
Just saying his name aloud made my heart skip. I’d been replaying everything I said to him at the hospital. His lack of reaction. But he’d come all the way back to Hart County for me, and my foolish heart really wanted that to mean something.
Brynn set down her fork. Grabbed a paper napkin to dab her mouth. I knew what buying time looked like.
“I think so. People have been talking about him making appearances on Hartley’s Main Street. Apparently, he bought a used pickup from someone a couple weeks ago. Which suggests he plans to stay here awhile. There are rumblings he’s staying someplace outside of town.”
My head shot up. “So, not a hotel? Is he with Owen and Gen?”
“Not as far as I know. River mentioned he’s been in touch with Dean, and that it has something to do with you. But that’s about it.”
I didn’t know what to feel about any of this. Dean was still in Hart County three weeks after I’d told him to get out of my hospital room. He’d been talking to River about me.
I tried to find the rage that had overwhelmed me in the hospital. But it was quiet. My anger at Dean had been quiet for days, replaced with confusion and uncertainty.
I’d kept the gardenias, though. Just because they were my favorite, obviously. Not because I’d forgiven him. The vase still sat on my nightstand in my bedroom with the stems bent over and wilted.
I still felt a mess of conflicting emotions about what had happened.
Both Dean and the attack. But the flood of anguish that had made me break down in front of Brynn was distant enough that I could get through the day.
The rage and sorrow were under glass. Still there, easy to see, but separate from me.
“Is he still blocked in your phone?” Brynn asked.
“Yes.” So I had no idea if Dean had tried to contact me again. I wasn’t sure I wanted to know.
Ugh, that was a lie. Of course I wanted to know. That was why I was asking about him. At the same time, I wasn’t ready to welcome him back.
But I was also obsessing about where he was and what he was doing. Why did I still care so much?
The corner of Brynn’s mouth lifted. “I thought that was badass, by the way. You blocking him.”
“You don’t think I was being childish?” Dean had never done anything awful to me. Just failed to write back to a couple of texts, and then silence had stretched between us, days turning to months and then years. But I could’ve called or texted again if I’d wanted to. Right?
“Hell no.” Brynn pushed away her plate. “He deserved it. If Dean wants back in your life, he has to learn to treat you better. You can’t give an inch on that. Make the man sweat.”
I felt a smile on my lips matching hers. “I wonder what Cole would say about it.”
“Cole can have an opinion when I tell him he’s allowed. But don’t tell him I said that.”
We both laughed, which turned the ever-present ache in my chest and shoulder to a sharp jab. But it was worth it.
I helped round up the takeout containers and throw them away. After Brynn put in a load of laundry for me, we returned to the couch to queue up the first installment of the Fast and Furious franchise. But before hitting play, Brynn turned to me.
“Have you thought more about having a personal security presence here, now that you’re alone at night again?”
I squirmed on the couch. “I already said no when Owen and Trace offered before. I don’t want a babysitter.”
“I get that,” Brynn said. “But the people who attacked you could come back. You know this.”
I did know it. I’d had this conversation several times already, including with her. It was clear to everyone that those masked men had come here for me specifically. They hadn’t robbed the house, and everything about the attack had seemed intentional. Professional, even. Not random.
Most likely, the masks had been meant to hide their identities in case a camera somehow recorded them or a neighbor saw them. But they’d known those demonic faces would terrify me too, so that my final moments were spent in terror.
They’d tried to kill me and didn’t succeed. Which meant they might try again.
I grabbed a throw pillow and held it against my stomach.
“Owen’s been sending deputies on new patrol routes that happen to go down my street.
” As if that wouldn’t be obvious to me. Even when my fellow deputies were using their own cars, I knew every single one of them.
Same with the people from other nearby departments who’d been helping out.
“You’ve been staying late almost every night, too.
I know it’s not just to hang out and have girl time. ”
She smiled. “Hey, I love me some girl time. I don’t get nearly enough of it when I’m home with Cole.”
Right, living in that beach house was so rough. “I also think River’s done something to my security system. Hacked into it. Wouldn’t be surprised if there are cameras watching us right now.”
River had come over to overhaul my security setup, supposedly to make it harder for someone to jam the signal again. But he was devious.
Brynn was shaking her head. “I doubt even River would go that far.”
“I don’t.” I tossed the throw pillow onto the floor. “I’ve got plenty of people looking out for me, whether I want them to or not. That’s what I’m saying. But if those assholes come back for more, I’m going to be ready.”
“Even though you can’t fire a gun?”
“Who says I can’t? My right hand works. You think if it’s life or death, I’ll be worrying about my broken collarbone?”
“I guess that’s a fair point.” Brynn didn’t look happy to hear it, but she didn’t sugarcoat things, and neither did I.
My personal handgun was locked up in evidence because I’d fired it in the attack, but I still had my service weapon. I would not give those assholes the chance to hurt me again.
But what about Dean? Not like I was comparing him to the men who’d broken into my house. Not at all. But he had hurt me. Broken my heart.
I didn’t know which thing I dreaded more. The thought of him leaving Colorado without another word.
Or the thought that he’d show up at my door.