Page 11 of More Than Nothing
“Hold on—bacon theft? Is that even a thing?”
Sweat beaded on the deputy’s top lip. “Sure is. Jarvis gets wasted every Saturday, comes home with the munchies, and then calls us on a Sunday morning, moaning that his bacon’s been stolen.”
Elenie gave a strained laugh. “Cheese is the most frequently stolen food in the world,” she told him. “There was a car chase in New Zealand—I forget when—after a couple stole a whole load of Cheddar off a train and the thieves chucked lumps of cheese out of the car window at the cops while they tried to escape.”
Dougie limped on. “Absolutely not true.”
“Absolutely is.”
The deputy looked at her sideways. “You’re funny, you know that?”
“Funny ha-ha or funny peculiar?” Apparently, bonding over a gunshot wound did away with the need to stand on ceremony.
“Maybe a bit of both.”
They stopped briefly to check her bra wasn’t slipping and to let him catch his breath. The white cotton was stained pink and Elenie’s shoulder screamed from supporting his weight. “Not far now. You doing OK?” He nodded and they set off again. “The Renner kids will be dying a death right now. If they know they winged you.”
He swiped the back of a bloody hand across his face. “I hope they are, the little shits. And they definitely know they got me because I yelled like a stuck pig.”
Elenie couldn’t help a snicker at the deputy’s honesty. “How did it happen, anyway?”
“Target practice, I think. Or they were shooting at road signs. Or maybe, just fucking shooting—I don’t know.” He stumbled, but Elenie propped him up.
“Come on, you’ve got this,” she coaxed. “I can see the car. Tell me about the stray you were chasing. I haven’t seen a dog on this path before.”
It took them another ten minutes to reach the patrol car, and by the time they got there Elenie was drained. She sank to the ground, listening to Taggart radio for assistance. Her breath sawed in and out of her chest; her polo shirt was soaked with sweat. She’d waved goodbye to any chance of ticking her uniform over another day without a wash. A few loose curls were stuck to her neck and smears of dust and blood marked her hands and clothes. She was a mess.
The deputy slid onto the tufted grass by her side in the small patch of shade. “The chief’s on his way.”
“Which one?”
“The new chief. Roberts has gone. He’ll be in Clearwater, Florida, by now, terrorizing the tuna.”
Hurrah to the gods of all that is merciful. Even so, it was time to beat a strategic retreat. In a minute. In just a minute.
Elenie leaned her head against the car. Her arms and legs felt like soggy straws. “You’re so much heavier than you look.”
“Rude. Maybe you’re just a weakling.”
“Hey, I carry trays for a living. And the good old residents of Pine Springs can eat their own weight in waffles. I have muscles.”
“Sure you do, Noodle Arms.”
“Ashrab mah al-bahr.”
“I beg your pardon?”
“It’s Arabic. It means, ‘Go drink seawater.’” Elenie’s smile slipped; she was gripped with a momentary panic that she’d overstepped the mark. What happened to thinking these things, rather than voicing them? She’d obviously shed her restraint along with her bra.Remember, he is a police officer, not a friend.“I didn’t mean that,” Elenie mumbled, uncomfortable all over again. She pushed herself to her feet, wrapping her arms around her chest. “I’d better go.”
The young deputy stared up at her, a pained grin pulling at one side of his mouth. “Thanks, Elenie.” He looked exhausted, battered, but not offended, and relief eased her breath.
The sound of tires on asphalt disturbed the momentary silence. Roman Martinez parked his Ford Interceptor behind Dougie’s patrol car and killed the engine. Backing up as his long legs descended from the SUV, Elenie kicked herself for not leaving sooner.
Martinez spared her a quick glance and a nod. He dropped to the ground by Taggart’s side, jaw tight, placing a first aid kit beside him in the dirt.
“What—?”
“Elenie’s bra.” Dougie managed a grin.
