Page 24 of Wandering Souls

Officer Quinn looked at him sideways. “Except rob the pub and steal a car.”

The man in cuffs grinned, the goose egg on his forehead growing by the minute. “Allegedly.”

Both cops waited expectantly.

“See to him.” Abi nudged Colt. “I can wait.”

“Are you sure?”

She motioned toward the trio. “We can’t have these police officers be wrongly accused. Go, check him out and give him the all clear.”

Colt’s amber eyes thanked her. “I won’t be long, I promise.”

“I know.”

The male officer escorted the accused as they followed Colt through the doors into the treatment area. Abi sat, preparing to resume her reading, when the young female officer crossed the room and took up a seat opposite. She leaned forward and held out a hand.

“Charlotte Quinn,” she said by way of introduction, her voice firm, her handshake firmer.

“Abi Winter. Nice to meet you, Officer Quinn.”

“Thanks for letting us push in.”

Abi smiled. “No problem. Is there a lot of crime in Wills Crossing?”

The tiny woman shrugged. The bright red highlights in her hair shone under the florescent lighting in stark contrast to the rest of the dark brown bob. In her police boots, her feet looked ridiculously huge and out of proportion with the rest of her. “The town’s population is growing, so I guess there are those who want to take advantage. It’s still a bitcountryfor my liking.”

Country?“So, you’re not from around here, then?”

She smiled. “No, ma’am.” The expression on her face suggested she was happy about it too. “Melbourne, born and raised in the rough outer suburbs. Never thought I’d find myself here, in the middle of nowhere. You?”

“Queensland.”

“You’re a long way from home.” She smiled, the gesture softening her angular face. “Welcome to the Crossing.”

Half an hour later, Colt returned and released the accused back into the custody of the officers. As he filled out paperwork, Quinn observed him, her close attention highly appreciative. She shook Colt’s hand, holding on a little longer than was necessary before giving the man in cuffs a gentle shove toward the doors. When they were gone, Colt turned his attention to Abi.

“Never a dull moment in this place. Keeps us on our toes. Come on, before someone else rushes through those doors. You’ve waited long enough.”

In the exam room, Colt picked up a clipboard and jotted down her details, his face a picture of concentration. “Tell me, Abi, how many pieces are in your thigh?”

“Forty-two.”

His pupils dilated. “Say again?”

She wanted to roll her eyes. Pulling out her phone, she intended on opening her gallery of images but found another missed call from Ray. Persistent. Ignoring the notification, she pulled up the image of the last X-ray taken. “Unfortunately. Is that a problem?”

He set the clipboard on the bed beside her and took the phone. “Not at all.” He studied the image. “I’m just surprised, is all. Wow, that’s a lot of metal.”

She remembered having to declare it at the airport. The look on the security guard’s face was priceless. “You?” She motioned toward his arm as he returned the phone.

“No shrapnel, just some missing muscle and a lot of scarring. I was lucky.”

“Actually, the word shrapnel is a misnomer,” she said, quoting the base commander. “It’s origin hails from the late 1700s, where it was named after its inventor, Henry Shrapnel. It was an antipersonnel projectile. The word has now been appropriated to describe all debris from explosive objects.”

“You sound like a dictionary.”

She shrugged. “Call it self-defense. Repeating it helps it lose the power to keep me in fear of death.”

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