“Well, I guess we should go back inside. I need to talk to Dupree before I leave, make sure he doesn’t charge anyone for what happened here tonight,” she said, moving around the three men and heading back inside.
A much-subdued Captain Dupree was alone in the reception room. He met her just inside the door, and spoke before she could. “Thank you for handling that.”
“You’re welcome,” she said solemnly. “But—”
“I’ve called Steve—Officer Jefferson in,” he interrupted solemnly. “He should be here in twenty minutes. I’m going to put him on leave until you finish your investigation and come to a decision. I also had my wife call my daughter over to our house. After I deal with Steve, I’m going home to talk to her and find out if the bastard has been beating her.”
“That’s good, but—”
“And myself and the men will cooperate fully with your investigation. I’ll talk to them and make it clear that they’re to answer all questions honestly.”
“Good. Thank you. Now about the mob out here tonight. I told them no one would be charged for this,” she said quickly, just wanting to get that subject out of the way and head back to the bed-and-breakfast before she collapsed where she stood. She was exhausted and the stress had brought her headache back. All she wanted at that point was to take a couple more painkillers and lie down.
“I heard you say that,” Captain Dupree said, and grimaced as his gaze slid to the shattered windows and door. “They caused a lot of damage.”
“So has Jefferson if what those boys are saying is true,” CJ countered quietly. “And the townspeople are angry. The way they see it, he’s misusing his authority. He’s actually breaking the law, and from their perspective you’ve been letting him do it.” She paused briefly to let that sink in and then glanced toward the glass and rocks covering the floor before adding, “If they’d hurt anyone I’d say throw the book at them, but since that didn’t happen, I suggest you bite the bullet on this and just get the glass replaced and take this as a lesson learned. Your people expect you to keep them safe, even from your own men. Maybe especially from your own men.”
“Yeah,” he sighed unhappily, running a hand through his hair. “He used to be a good guy. I hope he still is and this is all just a mistake, but . . .” He shook his head.
CJ was silent. There was really nothing she could say to comfort the man. This was a mess, but she’d get to the bottom of it with her investigation. For now, though, she really just wanted to leave. Unfortunately, her brain was pounding and her thinking processes were slow and she didn’t know how to end this and leave without seeming rude or uncaring. Fortunately, Bricker had no such problem.
“So,” he said abruptly, clapping his hands. “Are we done here? Can we get some Chinese and go back to the bed-and-breakfast?”
CJ glanced to Captain Dupree in question. “Is there anything else before we go?”
“No, I guess not,” the captain said, glancing around. “You’re coming back tomorrow to sign your statement and interview Steve.”
It was more a reminder than a question, but CJ treated it like a question. “Yes. I’ll try to be here early to sign the statement, but if not, I can always sign it after the interview.”
“Right,” he muttered, frowning at the mess of glass on the floor. “I need to clean this up and call our window guy.”
“All right, then,” CJ said mildly. “We’ll head out and leave you to it.”
Grunting, Captain Dupree nodded and turned to make his way around the reception counter and into the back of the station without another word.
“I guess that means we’re good to go,” Bricker said cheerfully.
“I guess so,” CJ agreed, relieved to be able to get out of there before Jefferson got back. Which was ironic, she supposed. She’d been trying to meet with the man for weeks, and now just wanted to avoid him.
“Awesome! Next stop: the Happy Wonton,” Bricker said cheerfully, taking her arm in one hand and Mac’s in the other and ushering them out of the station with Decker leading the way.
Thirteen
“I should probably check on CJ again and make sure that she’s okay,” Mac muttered, glancing toward the hall and the stairs beyond. They’d stopped to pick up Chinese food on the way back to the bed-and-breakfast, but CJ hadn’t been interested in having any when they’d got there. She’d gone straight up to her suite for what she’d called a “lie down,” leaving Mac and the others to feast on the Chinese food without her.
The minute she’d left the room, Mac had started to fret over her. He’d managed to restrain himself for twenty whole minutes before going up to check on her the first time. The second time had been twenty minutes after that. Now another twenty minutes had passed and he was anxious to check on her again. It was looking like he’d be running up to be sure she was still breathing three times an hour for the rest of the night. At least until Mrs. Vesper went to bed and he could just go up there and stay in CJ’s suite. Unfortunately, the woman appeared to be enjoying the company at the table and was showing no signs of tiring.
Mac blamed that on Marguerite. His aunt and Julius had joined them to eat when they’d returned, and after hearing about their day and evening, she’d been chatting away with Mrs. Vesper, asking her all sorts of questions that Mrs. Vesper had happily answered. The woman was blooming under the attention, which Mac would have thought was nice if he wasn’t so anxious about CJ. He knew damned right well that head wounds could be risky for mortals. Swelling on the brain could cause problems that weren’t immediately evident but could kill them. And those problems might not be apparent while she slept, he thought now with a frown. Perhaps he should wake her up this time.
“Or you could go have a nap yourself,” Decker suggested.
Mac blinked at the comment, somewhat confused by where it had come from. Deciding he must have missed part of the conversation, he merely shrugged and said, “I’m not tired.”
His answer inspired dead silence for a minute, and then Bricker pointed out, “It was just after nine o’clock when we got back and CJ went to lie down. She might sleep straight through the night rather than just nap . . . or enjoy dream time as my Holly likes to call it,” he added pointedly.
“Dream time?” Mrs. Vesper said with a faint smile. “Isn’t that sweet. It sounds much less lazy than ‘nap.’ I like it.”
Mac heard Mrs. Vesper’s comment, or at least the rumble of her voice, but his mind was on what Bricker had said. Dream time. Immortals were said to share dreams with their life mates when sleeping near each other. Usually they were shared sex dreams. If he went up and slept too . . .
Standing abruptly, he picked up the full glass of water Mrs. Vesper had fetched for him and said, “I’ll just go look in on her and set this by the bedside table in case she’s thirsty when she wakes up, and then I might just have a little nap myself. I wouldn’t want her to be up by herself in the middle of the night.”
“That’s very kind of you, Mac,” Mrs. Vesper said with a smile. “Well, if you don’t get up until after I’ve gone to bed, I’ll wish you good night now.”
“Good night,” Mac murmured, heading out of the kitchen.
He heard Marguerite’s soft “Sweet dreams” as he left the room.
CJ was asleep in her own bed when Mac reached her suite. He supposed he shouldn’t be surprised. She’d probably assumed that he’d be out in the RV with his bodyguards now that they were here, and if today hadn’t gone as it had, he probably would have been. But her head injury meant she wasn’t supposed to be left alone for twenty-four hours and he intended on watching her like a hawk. He wasn’t risking losing his life mate to swelling on the brain, or anything else, before he could even claim her. Fortunately, sharing dreams with her would give him more of an idea of how her mind was working than waking her up and asking questions to judge whether she was suffering confusion or any of the other symptoms connected to such an injury.
Assured she was breathing fine and seemed well, Mac set the glass of water on the bedside table and then retreated to the salon. The cot was still there, but it had been stripped and closed. Rather than go to the trouble of setting it up and making it, he lay down on the couch. It was plush and overstuffed and a good size as couches went, but he was still too long for it. Mac was used to that, though, and simply rested his head on one arm of the couch and his ankles on the other, and closed his eyes.
CJ stroked through the silky water, enjoying the feel of it rushing over her body as she swam straight out from the cliff that her cottage sat on. She swam for several minutes before stopping and rolling over in the water. Floating on her back now, she stared up into the fiercely bright sun for a moment before closing her eyes against it and simply enjoying the feel of its heat kissing her skin where it wasn’t submerged under the water.
CJ had always enjoyed the water. As a kid she’d spent more time in the lake than out of it when they were on the island. Her father used to say that it was because she was really a mermaid they’d found as a baby and taken in. He’d then caution her not to stay in the water too long or her legs would merge into a tail fin and she’d have to live in the water forever.
CJ smiled at the memory. She’d always laughed at that claim, never realizing how close to the truth it was. Oh, she wasn’t a mermaid, but the man she’d always thought was her father had found her when she was young and he and his wife had taken her in, raising her as their own. They had been wonderful parents, and she had enjoyed a happy and loving childhood because of them.
Sighing, CJ rolled over in the water again and struck out for shore. It didn’t take her long to reach shallow water. The moment her fingers brushed over the sandy bottom as she stroked, CJ stopped swimming and stood up in the water to wade out. She stopped, though, after just a couple of steps when she spotted the man standing on the small patch of beach in the shade cast by the U-shaped cliff.