Page 144 of A Dead End Wedding

"Whatever."

In the five minutes it took for the police to arrive, I filled him in on the highlights of my suspicions about Langley, Cowan and, possibly, Greenberg and Smithies, including the bullying tactics and the threats. Nothing but the muscle clenching in his jaw gave away what he was thinking. He remained silent until I'd finished.

"So, it sounds crazy, but I think BDC knew about the defect and tried to cover it up before issuing the recall," I concluded.

"I think you're in some big trouble here. Shouldn't you go public with this?"

"I'm trying to figure out what to do next. For now, all I have are very far-fetched suppositions which are supported by zero admissible evidence."

"You need admissible evidence in your world, not mine," he said grimly. "All I need is proof."

The sound of sirens and then brakes squealing in my driveway stopped me from pursuing that line of conversation. As he went to open the door to the police, I called after him. "My case, my rules, Brody."

As I stood up, the pain in my shoulder sharpened. "For 'just a splinter,' it sure feels like a gunshot wound," I muttered as I sank back down in the chair. "And let's not forget that I have STITCHES in the back of my head, still."

I tried out a few of Jake's really bad words under my breath while he let the police in the door, but it didn't really help. Jake introduced me to his good friend, Lieutenant Connors.

Connors swept his sharp gaze over me and around the room, then looked back at me. "Another drug deal gone bad?"

This totally ruined the good impression I'd been forming of him — he was tall, lean, and great looking in a hardened "I'm the law" kind of way – but wavy brown hair and piercing, good-for-interrogating-perps blue eyes couldn't overcome his apparent stupidity.

Evidently, I was getting quite the reputation. Me and my non-existent drug cartel. Jake pulled Connors aside and, after a brief discussion that involved lots of "no shit?" and "no shit!" on the lieutenant's part, they walked back to where I still sat on the chair, getting my shoulder bandaged by the medical person from the emergency squad.

I put on my "brave and stoic" face, hoping for sympathy.

"Sorry, Miss Vaughn. Jake filled me in on the background here. You have to admit, after that newspaper article and then all the violence surrounding you these days, though, it looks bad," Connors said. "But if Jake vouches for you, you're good with me. Can you think of anybody who might want to hurt you?"

Okay, so maybe he wasn't allthatstupid.

The medic finished and told me to see a doctor for follow up. I thanked her, then looked up at Jake and Connors and sighed.

"Unfortunately, it's a really long list."

After I filled Connors in on what little I was willing to talk about, Jake wandered through the house with the other police officers, looking for who knows what. It's not like I had much to look at. My phone rang, and as I picked it up, somebody banged on the front door. Jake walked past me and dropped something on my lap, then headed over to answer the door. I looked down to see my favorite stuffed tiger, the one I kept on my bed.

I knew I should have been embarrassed that all the big, tough police were seeing the trial lawyer clutch a tiny stuffed animal, but I was beyond caring about that. I smiled after Jake, thinking warm thoughts about a man who would take time to bring me my tiger.

Oh, oh. Defenses going down fast.

I flipped open my phone. "Hello, Aunt Celia. I'm fine. Everything is fine. Nobody was hurt, and the police are here now."

"WHAT?" she shrieked in my ear so loudly I wondered about permanent deafness.

"Weren't you calling because you heard about me on the police scanner again?"

"No! I was calling to invite you to the community bingo and pie social at the Seniors' Center Saturday. What are you talking about? Are you okay? Do we need to come over right now? Nathan! Get your keys! December is in trouble again!"

"No! I'm fine. Look, I'll let you talk to the police," I said, and shoved my phone at Connors. "Talk to my Aunt Celia."

He shook his head and tried to escape, but I grabbed him by his shirt. "Listen here, I have been through just about ALL THAT I CAN TAKE this week. If you don't explain this to my Aunt Celia, I'm likely to lose my FREAKING MIND."

I doubt the poor man had ever been accosted by a crazed lawyer brandishing a stuffed animal before. He took the phone. "Yes? This is Lieutenant Connors. Who?—"

Emily came running into the room and grabbed me in an enormous hug. "December! Are you okay? We were out at a church social, and we saw all the police, and?—"

Connors's voice was getting louder. "No! I did not hurt your poor baby. She is?—"

"Ouch!" I pulled back out of Emily's hug, and she saw the bandage.

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