She drank the water first, opening the bottle and chugging down the contents so swiftly even she was surprised. But once the cool liquid touched her tongue, CJ couldn’t seem to stop drinking. It was lovely and so refreshing, and she had definitely been dehydrated.
Capping the empty bottle with a small satisfied sigh, she turned her attention to the chicken wrap. It went down almost as quickly, although she did take the time to chew her food so she wouldn’t choke on it. She was slowing down, though, by the time she finished that and started on the latte and honey cruller. Even so, she finished it off fast enough that she was popping the last bite of the sweet, airy donut into her mouth when Mac turned into the police station parking lot.
Twelve
Captain Dupree was waiting in the reception area when they entered the police station. The older man grunted when he spotted them, his gaze zeroing in on CJ.
“You missed your appointment,” he growled with irritation.
“I’ve been at the hospital,” CJ growled back with just as much irritation.
“Doc Pearson said as much,” Dupree admitted grudgingly. “Said you were the victim of a hit-and-run in the parking lot of the Sandford Pub and Grill.”
“Hmm.” CJ narrowed her eyes on him and pursed her lips before saying, “We must have missed the man you sent out to take a report on it.”
“You did. Doc said he had a bunch of tests to do on you and not to bother sending anyone for a bit, so Dandridge only left a few minutes ago. He probably isn’t even at the hospital yet. I’d best go call him and tell him to head back,” he added, and turned away to disappear from view.
CJ rolled her eyes at the man’s attitude and walked around the counter to follow him, aware that Mac, Decker, and Bricker stayed hard on her heels. CJ stepped into the bullpen and then paused. While it had been abandoned the night before with just Mrs. Dupree wandering the place like a ghost, tonight it was a hive of activity, with at least five officers that she could see, talking on the phone, doing paperwork, or moving around performing other tasks.
“Officer Jefferson doesn’t appear to be here tonight,” Mac commented. “I don’t see Simpson either.”
“They should be on shift, though. They’re probably out on a call,” CJ said, and then noted the captain standing in his office door, one hand holding a phone to his ear, the other waving them his way.
“Looks like Dupree is going to take our statements,” CJ commented, gesturing for the men to follow her as she headed for his office.
Captain Dupree was hanging up the phone when CJ led the men in. Scowling when he saw that all four of them were there, he said, “You three boys wait in the bullpen. I’ll take Ms. Cummings’s statement first.”
CJ frowned at the words. Not because he’d said them, but because she should have expected that he’d want to take their statements individually and suggested the men wait in the bullpen rather than having them accompany her. It was a common practice to interview witnesses separately, used to ensure one witness’s statement didn’t influence another’s. She knew that, yet it hadn’t occurred to her until just now. Which told her that her thinking processes weren’t functioning properly yet.
“CJ?”
Her gaze flickered to Mac to see him watching her with concern, and supposed her expression was probably showing her own worry. She didn’t like that her brain wasn’t performing up to par. It was the one thing she’d always been able to count on. People? No. She’d learned years ago never to count on people. Her body? No. It had disappointed her as well. But her brain? That she had always depended on, and the possibility that she maybe shouldn’t right now was extremely distressing to her.
“Will you be all right?” Mac asked quietly. “Do you need more water or—?”
“I’m good,” she assured herself as much as him. She’d hit her head. Of course she wouldn’t be on her game at the moment. But once her headache was completely gone, and she’d had some rest, she’d be fine. She hoped.
“Out,” Dupree said brusquely, shooing the men toward the door. “The sooner you’re out, the sooner she can give her statement, and the sooner you all can get the hell out of my station.” He’d managed to get them to the door by then, and as the men filed out of the room, the captain barked out, “Jamieson! Owens! Brown! Drop what you’re doing and each of you take statements from these boys. They’re the ones involved in the hit-and-run at the Pub and Grill.”
He didn’t wait for a response, but immediately closed the door and turned to cross the room.
“Sit down before you fall down,” Dupree growled as he walked past her to take his seat.
Grimacing, CJ sat down in the chair in front of the man’s desk. She didn’t feel 100 percent and, pathetically enough, the walk in here had actually left her a bit weak-kneed, but surely she didn’t look that bad?
Dropping into his chair, the captain assessed her grimly and said, “You look like hell.”
“Well, that answers that question,” CJ said dryly.
“What question?” Dupree asked with a frown.
“Never mind,” CJ muttered. “Let’s get this over with.”
Dupree eyed her for another moment, and then nodded and opened a drawer to retrieve a tape recorder. Setting it on his desk, he said, “You don’t look in any shape to write it all down, so we’ll record it and have my secretary type it up for you to sign tomorrow.”
CJ was surprised by the man’s thoughtfulness, but merely nodded acquiescence, waited for him to turn on his tape recorder, and then began to list her name, address, and cell phone number. She didn’t wait for him to ask questions after that, but immediately launched into describing the where, when, and how of what had taken place.
“Red?” Captain Dupree barked a couple of moments later, interrupting CJ at the point where she’d turned and spotted the pickup after Bricker’s warning shout.
“Yes. Red,” CJ said, eyeing him with curiosity. It wasn’t the most popular color for a pickup. White seemed to be the top color choice, followed by black and silver. At least that was something she’d concluded on her travels. She passed tons of white pickups every day, a lot of black and silver too, but red pickups seemed much less popular. Which should make it easier to find, she supposed, and wondered if the captain might not already have a candidate in mind. If so, he certainly wasn’t looking pleased about it at the moment.
Running a weary hand through his thinning hair, he grunted and said, “Go on.”
CJ continued her witness statement, telling him about Bricker pushing her and Mac out of the way—she didn’t mention the whole flying through the air thing, because that just wasn’t possible. She ended with being knocked out when she hit her head on landing, and waking up in the hospital. There wasn’t much else to tell after that. And frankly, her statement didn’t have a lot of clues in it that she could tell other than the color of the truck. A license plate number or a description of the driver would have been more helpful.
“I’ll make sure this is all typed up and ready for you to read and sign when you arrive tomorrow to interview Jefferson,” Captain Dupree said as he turned the recorder off and stood. “I presume 3 p.m. is good for you? Same time tomorrow as it was supposed to be today?”
“Yes. Fine,” CJ confirmed as she got to her feet as well. She was more than a little surprised that he was being so accommodating about the meeting. She hadn’t even had to bring the subject up herself.
“Three o’clock, it is, then,” Captain Dupree said as he walked her to the door. “I’ll make sure Jefferson is here.”
“Thank you,” CJ murmured.
Dupree nodded as he opened the door for her, and as she walked past him to leave, he said, “Get some rest tonight, Cummings. You’re pale as hell.”
CJ glanced back with surprise at the concern in his voice, but he was already closing the door. Bewildered by the sudden show of concern from a man who had been nothing but a pain in her arse over the last two weeks, CJ gave her head a shake without thinking. Much to her relief, the pain pills were apparently doing their work. At least she wasn’t suddenly overcome by excruciating pain at the headshake, just a mild throb. She thought that was a good sign.
Exhaling a relieved breath, she turned to peer around the bullpen. Decker and Bricker were seated at the two far desks, still talking to the officers taking their statements, but Mac was just getting up from his interview at the desk nearly next to her. She could also see the recorder the officer who sat at the desk was putting away. He’d chosen to record the statement and have it typed up like Captain Dupree had done, she realized. So had Decker and Bricker, but both men were still giving their statements.
“All done?” Mac asked, pausing in front of her and offering a smile.
CJ nodded and smiled back before she could catch herself, which in turn made her frown.
“Does your head still pain you?” Mac asked as she heard Captain Dupree’s office door open behind her. “Do you want me to take you back to the bed-and-breakfast right away? I can come back for Decker and Bricker.”
“No one’s going anywhere just now,” Captain Dupree announced grimly, moving past them and striding through the bullpen to the doorway to the reception area.
CJ blinked after him with surprise, and then followed. The man’s voice and demeanor shouted trouble.
“What’s going on?” CJ asked as she stepped into the reception area and saw the captain had gone around the counter and was headed for the entrance.
“We have a situation,” Dupree said, locking the front door.
“What are you doing?” CJ asked with surprise. Police stations weren’t like stores. They were always open for business, because there was always someone doing something they shouldn’t. They did not lock their doors. At least not normally.
“We have a mob growing out front,” Dupree announced. “There’s going to be trouble.”