Page 64 of One More Chance

Sandring said, “You have more witnesses this time. If you want any credence with internal affairs, you need to keep your mouth shut.” He turned to them. “There’s another car here. Let’s go.”

Chapter Eighteen

Kenna stared at the officer. “That’s everything. No matter how many times you ask me.” She lifted the cold soda can they’d brought her—the one she hadn’t even opened—and pressed it to the spot on her forehead where Earnest…Reggie…whichever twin, had smacked her head with his. “Ah.”

It wasn’t really cold anymore since she’d been in this room so long.

Her head was still pounding.

“Perhaps you should see a doctor.” The detective shifted her chair back from the table.

“A doctor isn’t going to find those kids.”

“I’ll go see if your husband is done and check with Officer Albertson’s partner about the children.”

“Thanks.” Kenna didn’t need to make friends with every good cop in every big city—or small town, for that matter. It did help, though. She couldn’t remember this detective’s name. The woman was heavyset and had a pixie cut that had been shaved on the side. Kenna would guess military background, maybe years ago before marriage and kids.

Her thoughts started to swim in her head. “I need ibuprofen.”

“I’ll see what I can do.” The detective walked out, leaving the door open.

Kenna stayed where she was. Better to sit and think this through, not just because she might keel over if she tried to stand. She slid out her phone and laid it on the table.

Bruce’s message had said he was good. Maizie had given him access to the GPS from Earnest’s phone—at least the one legally registered to him. He was out there on the hunt for the man who’d taken her blood.

The detective hadn’t told her anything about the conversation with Regis or the confidential informant guy who’d jumped out the window. But surely, the police department had made some progress. More than just figuring out if the guy they’d brought in wasn’t their officer. Or was. She couldn’t seem to think straight.

She held her thumb on the lower half of the phone, then called Maizie.

“You’re done with the police?”

Kenna put the phone to her ear, thumbing down the volume so it didn’t make her head hurt more. “Not exactly.”

“What do you need?”

“A million pain pills. My head isthrobbing.”

“That’s not good.”

“But aside from that, run a search. According to county records”—just in case the cops were listening in on her conversation—“who owns the doctor’s office where I had that bone density appointment?”

She heard Maizie start typing. “What are you thinking?”

“Doctor Buzard had staff. I mean, did he tell the usual people to take the day off, or did he knock them all out and shove them in a closet while he came in?”

“Or he paid them off.”

“Or it’shisoffice.”

“Hmm.” Maizie went quiet for a second.

Kenna looked at herself in the mirror. Maybe she did need to see a doctor. The lump on her forehead was darker than the rest of her face. It wasn’t bleeding, but she didn’t want to have a bigger issue because she ignored the fact something might be seriously wrong.

Who was she kidding? Of course, something was wrong.

She could get checked out, but that might be dangerous with the other things going wrong in her body. Or going right.

Too soon to tell which it was.

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