Page 72 of Mountain Man Officer

“Macy already put the kids to bed. I could stay for another fifteen.”

“Thanks.” I popped into the cabin to look for a beer. The living room was dark, and all the doors in the hallway were closed. I grabbed two bottles from the fridge before winding my way outside again. Dillon accepted one, and I kept the other, twisting the top off and taking a long, deep pull.

“Booked your ex?” Dillon asked when I said nothing.

I nodded. “She’s in jail.”

“Good thing,” Dillon agreed.

“Lawyer made her sign the divorce papers,” I said. “It’s official now—I’m 99 percent divorced. Just need the judge to sign off on it first thing tomorrow.”

“Lindsey’s okay,” Dillon said, answering the question I hadn’t asked. “Macy left around three, Ava left after dinner. Lindsey went to bed about an hour ago.”

“I can’t thank you enough for your help,” I said. “I won’t ask you to give up another day.”

“You won’t have to.” Dillon shrugged. “The crisis is in the past. She’ll be feeling better tomorrow and won’t need a bodyguard.”

I nodded, unconvinced. I would hire a whole fleet of bodyguards if it made Lindsey feel safe. It was my fault she had been attacked, my ex-wife the one who had assaulted her. Lindsey was carrying our child and for some reason had been reluctant to tell me until her life was threatened. That would have to be ironed out. I hadn’t reacted with the joy I was sure she had been hoping I would display. It had been a lot to process. Angie had been in our living room, waving a gun around, and the woman I wanted to spend the rest of my life with was in mortal danger. I had been in shock.

That day at work, I focused on processing Angie through the system and getting my divorce papers signed. It had been one thing right after another, leaving me with little time to process my own feelings.

“It’s none of my business,” Dillon began, “but Lindsey could use some TLC from you.”

I nodded, knowing he was right. “I’ll take the day off tomorrow,” I promised.

Dillon finished off his beer and set it down on the porch. “I gotta get home.”

“Thanks again, man.” I stood up to see him off.

“I’d say call me anytime, but hopefully you won’t have a reason to,” Dillon joked.

“I’ll drink to that,” I agreed, draining the dregs of my beer before picking up the discarded empties. Dillon jogged down the porch steps and disappeared into the night. I went back inside and threw away the bottles, being careful not to make too much noise.

My bed was empty. I guessed Lindsey had chosen to sleep in her own room. Cursing my stupidity, I was determined to make it up to her the next day. I took a shower and climbed into my own bed. The television was on to some cartoon channel when I flicked it on to drown out the noises in my head. I picked a sports program, reliving the highlights of the games that day. I fell asleep early in the morning, with the screen still blaring results.

Idreamed of finding a baby and then losing it in the forest. I searched and searched but came up empty. I woke in a panic, a desperate need to find the tiny child that had become so important in the space of an afternoon. The sun was streaming in past the blinds, alerting me to the time. I had overslept.

I fought my way past the covers, righting myself groggily. Before coffee, before a shower and a shave, I wanted to talk to Lindsey. I stumbled through the hallway only to find her door ajar. There was no sign of the woman I loved either in her bedroom or in the shower. On the kitchen island was a note saying that she had gone to meet her friends for breakfast. Of course she had. I had pushed her out of the house, making it clear that her only refuge was with her friends. It was comforting to know she was safe but disappointing that I couldn’t be the one to provide that safety. I would make it up to her that night.

Instead of taking the day off, as I had planned, I went back to work. Ryan and Cheryl greeted me as I walked through the door.

“How did it go?” Ryan asked.

“She was asleep when I got home,” I said. “And now she’s out with Macy and Ava.”

“Give her some time.”

“How’s the salon case coming?” I asked. We had been in communication with the prosecutors as they asked for all our evidence.

“The assistant manager gave a full confession,” Ryan told me. “We’ve got the case locked up tight.”

“What did she say?” I asked.

“I’ve got the deposition here.” Ryan tapped his computer screen. “I can send it to you.”

“Thanks. You have a summary?”

“Yeah.” Ryan stepped over to the coffeepot to pour himself a cup. “We were right about the money laundering. They were hooked up with an outfit from Nashville.”

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