Page 19 of Peril in Piney Woods

She turned her back.

“How does it feel to know you killed a man?” The words echoed through the air.

Meg glanced toward the woman being ushered off the sidewalk and back to her van. Two more news vans arrived while she watched.

Dread welling inside her, Meg walked to the counter and sat down on the floor behind it.

Whatever privacy she had hoped to keep intact after all this was gone now. Her face and this new story would be all over the internet by tomorrow. Any hope of maintaining anonymity was gone.

The jig was up.

Two other deputies arrived and hauled the perps away in separate cruisers. By then, Battles had taken Meg’s statement and she had started the cleanup. The other deputy, Hershel Gardner, had rounded up a box from the dumpster in the alley and was helping with the glass pickup.

The best part of this, Meg decided—looking on the bright side—was that it had occurred late in the day. No way would it hit the news before morning. The minutes that had elapsed also had her thinking that if she was really lucky, the story wouldn’t get picked up by a big network or the Associated Press. No reason for it to, in her opinion. There was plenty of bad going on in the world to keep her issues way down at the bottom on the interest barrel.

“Can we talk?” Battles asked.

“Sure.” Meg propped the broom she’d been using against the wall and followed the deputy over to the counter.

Battles searched her face before saying whatever was on his mind. Meg hoped he wasn’t going to ask more questions about her self-defense techniques.

“I need you to rethink this thing about not wanting to press charges,” he suggested. “I get that you feel bad for Mr. Jones because his son is dead, but you did what you had to do. It was self-defense. Jones has to get right with that. To be honest with you, he’s likely part of the reason his son was always in trouble. If Jones gets away with this, it just gives him more power.”

Meg understood what he was saying—better than most probably—but she also understood that Jones had been operating on emotion. “The breaking and entering should stand,” she agreed. “But not the assault. I think he already got the short end of the stick on that one.”

“No question,” Battles granted. “But what about the next person he gets riled up at? Will that person be able to fend him off the way you did? If he gets away with what he did to you, then down the road, someone else may end up paying the price.”

He had a valid point. Maybe too valid. Meg should have thought of that. Maybe she was operating on emotion a little too fully as well.

“You’re right. He should face the full ramifications for what he did, and maybe he won’t be so bold next time.”

Battles nodded. “Good.” He chuckled. “You know, I’m still trying to figure out how you handled a guy at least three times your size. Not to mention he had an accomplice with him who was armed.”

She laughed. “I think what really helped was the element of surprise. They didn’t see the potential for a real fight.”

Battles shrugged. “Maybe so. But the way you emptied that magazine on the weapon and...” He shrugged again. “I don’t know, just the way you handle yourself reminds me of my own training.”

“Maybe I watch too many cop shows. Picked up on some of the moves. You know how television and social media can influence our thoughts and actions.”

He nodded slowly. “Yeah, I guess you’re right.”

Voices outside drew their attention to the street. The first reporter was gone. Had to get her story in before anyone else, no doubt. The other two were shouting questions at a new arrival.

Griff.

Meg’s heart reacted and she silently chastised herself.

He climbed out of his truck, then reached into the back for what appeared to be a sheet of plywood.

“I should give him a hand,” Battles said.

The deputy hustled outside and helped Griff bring in the four-by-eight sheet of plywood. Once they’d propped it against the wall, Griff glanced at her before going back outside. Meg blinked, considering if she should have said something.

While Battles ushered the two reporters and their cameramen off the sidewalk and back to the street—again—Griff returned carrying a toolbox. This time, he walked all the way back to where she stood.

“Hey.”

She sighed. “Hey.”

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