If he wasn’t so busy cursing into the dirt beneath his face, Graham might have screamed some too.
Graham stayed there for a while, letting the white-hot agony roll through him until it dulled to merely a rusty-knife-stabbing-him-in-the-groin type of pain. Then—like any intelligent man would do in the same situation—Graham crawled into his workshop and locked the door.
Until further notice, this was exactly where he planned on staying.
* * *
Zoey was a reasonable woman. With the arrival of the Moose Springs police department’s finest and the proper displaying of a badge number, Zoey allowed herself to be talked into calming down. The single officer had found Zoey crouched outside the now-closed shipping container, a tire iron she’d procured from the chainsaw murderer’s truck held at the ready.
If he’d come at her again, Zoey planned on bludgeoning him to smithereens.
After the police convinced Zoey to put down her weapon and reassured the chainsaw murderer it was in fact safe to come outside again, Zoey had been horrified to find she’d been almost chainsawed by the nice, handsome bartender who’d so sweetly driven her home the night before, leaving aspirin on the table next to her. Upon further inspection, there was a lot of suitably chopped and chainsawed wood scattered around the property.
It was possible the most terrifying moment of Zoey’s life had been an unfortunate misinterpretation of the events at hand.
There was a certain amount of shame in realizing she had attacked a perfectly innocent man. Especially when the innocent man was one Graham Barnett, who had gone to lengths beyond necessary to help her. Yes, it had been scary to turn the corner and come face-to-face with a chainsaw murderer. But now that she knew it was Graham whom she had attacked, Graham who was possibly peeing blood, it only increased the shame.
As the cop took their statements, Zoey kept asking Graham if he was okay, hovering over him like a fretting hen, which he seemed to be enjoying enormously. By the third time he moaned and groaned and asked for her number, Zoey threw up her hands and retreated to the safety of the opposite side of the patrol car, putting the bulk of the vehicle in between them for his safety as much as her sanity.
Ignoring Graham’s antics and Zoey’s growing agitation, the officer shook his head and asked Graham if he was able to drive into town. After retreating inside his home to get an ice pack, Graham agreed.
Jonah, the officer who’d responded to her call, was a weary-looking middle-aged man, slender and fit, but not for lack of trying for the opposite. Riding in the passenger seat next to him, Zoey kept nudging candy bar wrappers and empty soda bottles with her shoes.
“Sorry, ma’am. Usually, if I’m giving someone a ride, they’re in the back.” The officer took a long drink of gas station Slurpee, his cup balanced precariously in the squad car’s cupholder. It couldn’t have been anything less than a half-gallon.
“Do you think I hurt him? I think I hurt him.”
A shadow of a smirk crossed Officer Jonah’s face. “Well, ma’am. If I had to say, I’d guess he’s not going to ask any women out anytime soon.”
“He asked for my number three times back there,” Zoey groaned. “I almost gave it to him too. Do you think he’s okay to drive?” Zoey twisted in her seat to stare at the Dodge truck following behind them. “He might need to go to the hospital.”
“Naw, if he needs a doc, he’ll let me know. We’ve had our fair share of tussles and bar fights around here, and Barnett always ends up in the middle of them. I doubt you gave him any worse than he’s had before.” Jonah rubbed a hand over the back of his neck. “Now that he’s not a few feet away from us, are you sure there isn’t anything more you want to add to your report? Anything inappropriate Mr. Barnett did?”
“No.” Frustrated, Zoey repeated the same thing she’d been telling him for the last hour. “I came out of the woods and saw him with the chainsaw. The rest was sort of instinct.”
At the raised eyebrow from the officer, Zoey bristled. “Oh no, I’m not getting any eyebrow judgment thingies from you. You know those women who are too stupid to live? I refuse to be too stupid to live. I don’t go in evil basements alone, I don’t linger in cornfields on full moons, and I’m definitely not going to let a fully mobile human being with a chainsaw chase me down and stuff my body in a steel shipping container.
“I mean, who even has steel shipping containers? In the woods?” She huffed.
“They’re common in this area, ma’am.”
“Anyone in my situation with half a brain would have disabled him. It was the right thing to do.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Seriously. It was the best call I had in the situation.”
Jonah took another drink from his bucket of Slurpee.
Sinking down in her seat, Zoey groaned into her hands. “I didn’t know I was running toward a cliff. I just saw the bad guy chasing me.”
“Of course, ma’am.”
When they pulled up to a tiny cement block building on the far side of town, Zoey watched Graham park on the street behind them. He didn’t look angry, but he did ease out of the truck with a carefulness that belied his current exuberance. Her agitation at Officer Jonah only increased as Graham grunted in discomfort upon closing the driver’s side door. How badly had she hurt him? Was he permanently damaged? Would he never have kids because of her knee-jerk reaction to defend herself in a life-and-death chainsaw situation?
“Are you okay?” she asked under her breath as he held the door for her.
An amused look was all Zoey got in reply.
Zoey didn’t think they were being arrested. She wasn’t in handcuffs in the back seat, and Graham was driving his own truck. People didn’t drive their own vehicles to jail. Then Jonah escorted them inside what must have sufficed as the Moose Springs police station: a building barely the size of a two-car garage, with only a desk, a bathroom, a small refrigerator, and a single cell.
Iron bars, corner toilet, and all.
“We don’t have an official station here in Moose Springs, ma’am.” Officer Jonah scratched his head, looking around as if uncertain of his options, and then he shrugged. “I suppose the drunk tank will have to do until we get things sorted out.”
“Get what sorted out?”
“Well, ma’am—”
“Zoey.”
A trace of annoyance crossed his face for half a second before disappearing. “Well, you and Graham—”
“Mr. Barnett,” Graham supplied cheerfully, making Zoey groan.
Unfazed, Jonah continued. “You both have conflicting stories about the events occurring this morning on Mr. Barnett’s property. I need to talk to my supervisors about what they want done. Barnett, are you pressing charges?”
Zoey felt her eyes widen. “You’re joking, right?”
“You did attack me.”
“You had a chainsaw,” she hissed. “People get ax murdered all the time.”
“But less often chainsaw murdered.” Graham seemed to be entertained by the whole situation. “The survival instinct is strong in this one. I’m lucky she didn’t kill me.”
Jonah stood there, eyed the situation, and like any other intelligent person, decided he’d rather be somewhere else.
“Why don’t you two sit in here for a while and work out your differences? I’ll just run out and get us all some lunch.”
“The diner is supposed to open at eleven,” Graham reminded Jonah.
“I’m sure no one will mind.” Taking a fresh ice pack from the station’s freezer, Jonah handed it to Graham, closed the drunk tank door, and left them there.
Alone.
Behind bars.
Together.
At least Zoey still had her cell phone in the Alaska bag she’d been allowed to keep after a quick search by the officer. They might have been inside a drunk tank, but at le
ast she could still call for help. Theoretically. Fifteen attempts to try to connect a call through the cement block walls of the makeshift jail only left Zoey ready to screech in frustration.
“How hard is it to get service in this town?” Stuffing her cell back into her pocket, Zoey paced in front of the door.
“Depends on your provider.” Graham watched her pace. “Only a couple of them work up here.”
“Something that would have been nice to know about before being incarcerated.”
Seated on the holding cell’s lone bench, Graham lounged against the wall, one arm folded across his chest and the other holding a strategically placed ice pack. Obviously, he was more comfortable with the idea of being incarcerated than she was. Annoyance replaced guilt beneath her rapidly beating heart. A man capable of looking so content in this situation wasn’t half as injured as he pretended to be.
“We’re technically not locked in.” Jutting his chin toward the door, Graham said congenially, “If you want to go all Bonnie and Clyde on this place, I might be willing to be convinced.”
“Yes, because breaking out of jail is exactly how I can improve on this experience.”
There was only one bench, and it was only four feet long. Given the choice of sitting next to the toilet and sitting next to Graham, Zoey placed herself exactly in the middle, trying not to smell or look directly at the toilet while putting as much distance between herself and the man with an ice pack in his lap as she could.
Stress had brought her headache back full force. Pinching the bridge of her nose, Zoey rubbed the insides of her eyes to relieve the strain.
Calm thoughts. She wasn’t in jail in Alaska. Calm, soothing thoughts.
Tilting his head to catch her eye, Graham chuckled. “I bet you’re regretting that Growly Bear right now.”
“I’m regretting a lot of things.”
He saw her looking at the ice pack. “It hurts. A lot.”
“Then don’t attack people with loud objects,” Zoey groaned. “I’m very sorry I hurt you, but you’re the one with the chainsaw and a dismembered body box. How hard is it to not be terrifying?”
“You’re the one who trespassed onto my property,” he reminded her. “How hard is it to not assume everyone is going to dismember you? Did it ever occur to you maybe I’m more discerning about who I dismember than to take any random stranger who trespasses?”
Forgetting to stare straight ahead, she turned away, got a glimpse inside the toilet, and shuddered. Facing Graham was the lesser of two evils. “I was on a hiking trail.”
“You were on my private hiking trail, and you owe me at least two dollars for the use of it. Maintaining that trail for lost tourists doesn’t come cheap, you know.” His eyes sparkled. “Since we had a misunderstanding, I’m willing to give you half off.”
“You want a dollar? I will give you a dollar.” Digging through her bag, Zoey growled under her breath, stuffing her glasses higher up the bridge of her nose. “Where’s my coin purse?”
“Maybe you threw it at my head.” Graham wasn’t being helpful.
Another cheerful grin from him, and Zoey was done. Sparkly frog coin purse in hand, she ripped the frog’s mouth open, pulling out several dollar bills from her carefully arranged money. “Here. Here’s your scaring the ever-loving crap out of me dollar. Here’s another. Here’s all the dollars, because I’m so sorry for not turning left!”
Throwing each one at his stupid, smug face, Zoey made her displeasure rain.
All the dollars was only five dollars. Graham watched her glare at him for a count of three, then huff a breath of distress as she picked them up from the floor and stuffed them back into her frog purse. “These are my dollars. You can’t have them. Put up a sign next time.”
Graham’s grin only widened. “You are a strange one, aren’t you?”
If Officer Dubious didn’t return soon, Zoey wasn’t responsible for what would happen to him.
Eventually, Jonah did appear, his arms full of plastic-wrapped gas station ham and cheese sandwiches. Too sick to her stomach to do more than hold her sandwich in her lap, Zoey tried to make another call. Lana would know a lawyer. Rich people always had lawyers ready and waiting.
Eyeing the police officer’s offering, Graham didn’t look impressed.
“I mean, Frankie’s is open, Jonah. I could have gone for a cinnamon roll.”
“Aww, Graham, you know I’m on a tight budget. Kelly’s pregnant again.”
“Really? Congrats, man.” Leaning over without looking away from his meal, Graham stuck his knuckles through the bars. “I hadn’t heard yet.”
Puffing up with pride, Jonah bumped his fist against Graham’s. “We’ve been keeping it quiet. It’s gonna be a girl this time. Kel’s got a feeling.”
“Or maybe she’s tired of being outnumbered,” Graham predicted.
Watching the exchange, it occurred to Zoey that of the three of them, she was the only one with any significant amount of concern here. Except for wincing a little when he adjusted his ice pack, Graham could have been sitting at Jonah’s kitchen table having this conversation instead of in a drunk tank.
“When can we leave?”
Both men looked at her, Graham’s lips curving upward in clear amusement. “You got somewhere better to be?”
Pulling a stool over to the door of their holding cell, Jonah settled in with a file in his lap. “Here’s what I’m going to do. Ms. Caldwell, I’d like to think this was just an accident, but I’ve got your police records here. And it’s concerning.”
“You have a rap sheet?” Graham’s eyes widened, like someone had handed him a candy bar unexpectedly. “Oh, I have to hear this.”
“No, you don’t.” Horrified, Zoey made a grab for the paperwork in the cop’s hand, but he kept his arm out of reach, leaning back from the bars.
“Indecent exposure—”
“That was not my fault.”
“Destruction of property—”
“That wasn’t even property! It was just a stupid garden gnome—”
“More indecent exposure.”
Sinking down onto the bench, Zoey hid her face in her hands as Jonah continued to list her shame. With every addition to her crimes, Graham’s clear enjoyment of the situation grew.
Clearing his throat, Jonah finished the last bite of his sandwich. “Ms. Caldwell, I’d love to let you go on your promise this was all a misunderstanding, but I’m just not sure if it’s a good idea to let you run loose up here. We’re a small town full of good people, and—” Jonah lowered his voice. “Public nudity just isn’t something we feel comfortable with.”
“Someone please kill me,” Zoey whimpered into her hands.
The officer’s cell phone rang, pulling his attention. “Excuse me.”
Disappearing outside to conduct his call privately, Jonah left Zoey alone in her humiliation, face so hot it hurt her skin. She refused to glance over, hiding from the look she just knew would be on the face of her cellmate.
“So…what kind of indecent exposure are we talking about here?”
If she glanced his way, Zoey knew Graham’s eyes would be all sparkly and gorgeous. So Zoey refused to answer, just like she refused to look at him.
“Strip poker?”
It was possible she hated him.
“No, I bet it was a classic teenage streaking gone wrong. Why do people always have to lock the doors just when the neighbors notice?”
“Do you have to enjoy this so much?”
“I’m sitting on a bench with a pretty girl. Of course I’m enjoying this.”
Risking a glance at him, Zoey was met with—yep. Waving her hand in front of his face in a circular wiping motion, Zoey scrunched her nose and glared at him. “Enough with the sparkle eyes. This is not a meet-cute. This is not a—you know.”
“I literally have
no idea.”
“Oh, you know. And it’s not.” She gestured at his general personage. “Aim all of that somewhere else.”
“Incarceration brings out your feisty side.”
Shoving to her feet, Zoey resumed pacing the cell, sandwich squishing in her hand as her fingers clenched in an involuntary fist. “You do realize I have a very impulsive friend who thinks I’m out on a hike right now? On the off chance she actually tries to find me instead of hiring someone to do it, the last thing we need is her lost in the woods all by herself.”
“I would agree on that.” Leaning forward, Graham rested his elbows on his knees, T-shirt hugging his muscled shoulders. “You’re much better at being lost than L could pull off.”
“Could you just be ugly for a moment?” Zoey asked, aware her voice was a mixture of plaintive and panicked. “You’re not helping.”
His grin just grew. “You’re adorable.”
Not attacking him a second time took the willpower of a saint. “Officer Jonah? Can I have my own drunk tank? Please?” When she leaned her forehead against the door, it popped open.
“Better close it,” Graham murmured. “Breaking and exiting is looked down on in the state of Alaska.”
When she just stood there, staring miserably at the doorway labeled exit, Graham gingerly rose to his feet and met her at the drunk tank door. With a little tug, he pulled the door shut. It clicked as if locking. That amused expression stayed on his face as he pushed the door back open an inch, then closed it again.
“Freedom’s tempting, huh?”
She’d had enough of his teasing. “Listen, Mr. Barnett—”
“Graham.”
“I’m sorry about your—”
“Ball sack,” Graham provided helpfully.
“Your private parts, and maybe this is your idea of a great way to spend an afternoon, but I need to make sure Lana doesn’t go looking for me. Someone needs to let me out of here or at least let me make a phone call. I have rights.”
“Yes, but we kind of do things at our own pace in Moose Springs. I hope you’re not claustrophobic, because we’re going to be stuck in here a long time.”
The Tourist Attraction (Moose Springs, Alaska) Page 7