by Brenda Novak
“You mind telling me what’s so damn funny?” he asked.
“I don’t think you’re such a badass after all,” she said.
“Oh, yeah? Well, go ahead and laugh. When I run out of beds you’ll be the first to go,” he grumbled and stomped out the door.
BOOKER SLOWED AS HE reached the edge of town. The Dundee police force—which consisted of a whopping three members—liked to catch people speeding just as they were coming past the feed store. It helped swell the public coffers. But Booker knew better than to get pulled over. Ever since he’d broken the police chief’s sprinkler system by peeling out on his lawn when he was visiting Dundee at fifteen and driving Hatty’s car, Chief Clanahan hadn’t liked him. And that sentiment had definitely filtered down to Officers Bennett and Orton.
Besides, going slow suited him just fine—tonight. He hadn’t found Delbert along the highway as he’d expected, and was hoping to spot him walking around town. Or at the Honky Tonk. The Honky Tonk stayed open until two o’clock on weekends. Delbert was never out that late, but it was still the best place to start looking.
When Booker drove into the parking lot, he saw Officer Orton sitting in his patrol car and rolled down his window as he pulled alongside him.
“What you doin’ out so late, Booker?” Orton said.
Booker ignored the question. “Have you seen Delbert?”
“He was here for a while. That dog of his was tied out front, just like always.”
“When did he leave?”
Orton rubbed his chin with his thumb. “I guess it’s been an hour or so.”
“Was he on foot?”
“Isn’t he always?” Orton said, chuckling.
Booker began to roll up his window but paused when Orton spoke again.
“What’s between you and that retard, anyway?” he said. “Prison turn you a little funny, boy?”
Booker’s muscles bunched as the desire to break Orton’s jaw washed over him. Like so many of the prison guards Booker had met while serving time, Officer Orton was drunk on his own power. But Booker wasn’t going to be stupid enough to let Orton draw him into a fight. “If that’s an invitation, I’m not interested,” he said and drove away.
A glimpse of Orton’s normally pallid face turning bright red siphoned off some of Booker’s anger. Orton was simply too small-minded to bother with.
Heading deeper into town, Booker stopped at the new Gas N Go. Delbert liked to buy candy and play the video game near the entrance. But when Booker didn’t see Bruiser sitting dutifully outside, he knew Delbert wasn’t here, either.
The bell sounded over the door as he went inside. Shirley Erman, the night clerk, glanced up from cleaning out the ice-cream dispenser. “Hi, Booker. What are you up to these days?” she asked.
“Right now I’m looking for Delbert. Have you seen him?”
“Not since I started my shift. He bought a pack of gum—I swear that guy’s gonna rot his teeth. Then I think he went over to the Honky Tonk.”
“Thanks.”
Booker drove up and down Main Street two more times without any luck, then started winding through the darker side streets. Delbert had lived in the trailer park behind the baseball diamond when his father was alive. Maybe he’d gone back for some reason. Or maybe he’d gone to the cemetery. He didn’t seem to miss his father much. Bernie Dibbs didn’t deserve to be missed. But some relationships were more complicated than others. No one understood that better than Booker.
He decided to go to the trailer park by way of the cemetery, but a dog, barking wildly, caught his attention before he reached either place. He was just passing Center Park and could see movement on the far side, several shadows among the trees.
Slowing, he bent his head, trying to figure out what was going on—and that was when he realized he’d found Delbert.
CHAPTER NINE
WHERE WERE BOOKER AND DELBERT?
Katie was tempted to pace, but she knew better than to be on her feet. Her back ached already, just from the walking they’d done in the mall earlier. And her stomach felt tight and hard. She wasn’t sure how much of her discomfort stemmed from her pregnancy and how much from her frayed nerves, but she hadn’t been so miserable since she’d first returned to Dundee.
She forced herself to remain seated in front of the television but glanced nervously at the clock every few minutes. Travis had gone to bed and was asleep, as far as she knew. He should be asleep. It was nearly 4:00 a.m. But she hadn’t so much as dozed off. Booker had been gone for three hours, and she felt as though she’d been counting every second. He could’ve driven to Boise and halfway back in that length of time!
Setting the telephone in her lap, she called to see if anyone was still at the Honky Tonk. She needed to find out what was going on. It was cold out, and the roads were slick. She kept picturing Booker crashed in a ditch, slumped over the steering wheel, slowly freezing to death….
Surely there hadn’t been an accident. Booker was an exceptional driver. He loved cars, motorcycles, anything with an engine, and he handled almost any kind of vehicle expertly.
But he was tired, and accidents did happen.
God, please don’t let him be hurt….
No one answered at the Honky Tonk. Evidently Bear, the bartender who generally closed up on weekends, had finished cleaning and gone home for the night. Katie didn’t have many other options. Who else could she call?
She tried Rebecca. When the answering machine came on, she didn’t leave a message. Rebecca was probably asleep, which meant Booker wasn’t there, either.
The wind rose, howling under the eaves, promising more snow. Another fifteen minutes dragged by, then Katie decided she couldn’t wait any longer. She was calling the police.
“Dundee Police Department. Officer Orton speaking.”
Katie gripped the phone tighter. She knew Officer Orton. He and his family attended the same church as her own family. But she was too worried to bother with any kind of greeting. “Could you…could you please tell me if there’ve been any accidents involving a black 4X4 this evening?”
“None that I know of.”
“Could there be one you don’t know of?”
“I suppose that’s possible, if it happened out on one of the back roads, but—”
“Officer Orton, this is Katie Rogers.”
“Oh, yes. My wife mentioned you were back in town.”
His voice wasn’t particularly friendly, so Katie released herself from any obligation she might have felt from their past acquaintance. “Then I’m sure you’ve also heard I’m staying out at Booker’s.”
“That’s exactly what I’ve heard.”
She hadn’t imagined his chilly tone. “Well, the reason I’m calling is that Booker went out a few hours ago to find Delbert, and neither one of them has returned—”
“They’ll be home in a few minutes.”
Katie would’ve been relieved, except she still didn’t like the sound of Orton’s voice. “You’ve seen them, then?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“What happened?”
“I’ll let Booker tell you when he gets home. But you should have an ice pack handy. And you might want to call him a good lawyer.”
He laughed, there was a click in her ear, and he was gone.
KATIE’S HEART POUNDED when she heard Booker’s truck pull up outside. She was grateful to have him and Delbert home, but apprehensive at the same time. Orton had mentioned an ice pack…. What could possibly have happened?
Anxious to find out, she opened the front door, and Bruiser shot over to her as soon as Booker cut the engine. He wagged his tail, but when she stepped aside to let him in, he circled back to Delbert and licked his fingers as he approached.
When the porch light fell on Delbert’s face, Katie saw why Bruiser was so hesitant to leave his master. Delbert had a black eye and was holding a bloody napkin to his nose. He moved gingerly, protecting his right side with his free hand.
“Delbert,
you’re hurt!”
“Hi, Katie,” he said sadly.
She held out a hand to stop him so she could get a closer look. “What happened?”
“I don’t know.”
“You have to know! Tell me where you’ve been.”
“We were at the police station. The police—Officer Orton—he put Booker in jail.” Tears gathered in Delbert’s eyes, and Katie realized that, despite whatever had caused his injuries, seeing Booker in jail was the most traumatic part. “They wouldn’t believe me. I tried to tell them, Katie. I tried to tell them it wasn’t Booker’s fault. But they wouldn’t listen.”
“I’m sure everything will be fine,” she said, giving him a quick hug for comfort.
Booker reached the porch, allowing Katie her first look at his face, which wasn’t in much better shape than Delbert’s. He had a cut above his eye, a busted lip and a red spot high on his cheek. Delbert’s hands were uninjured, but Booker’s were more battered than his face.
“You okay?” she asked.
“I’m fine.” He walked with an economy of movement that told Katie he was in pain, but the tautness of his body and the gravity in his voice told her he was also angry, almost explosively so.
She stepped out of the way so he could move past her. He got himself a drink of water and headed upstairs.
Katie let him go, knowing instinctively that he wanted to be alone. Then she had Delbert sit at the kitchen table so she could clean his cuts. “Tell me about the fight,” she said as she dabbed antiseptic ointment on his injuries. “How’d it get started?”
“I was just walking to the cemetery, Katie. I wasn’t bothering anybody.”
“And?”
“Some men were in the park. They were drinking. Drinking and laughing. When they saw me, they asked if my dog could do tricks. They wanted to see some tricks. I told them Bruiser doesn’t know any. Then they said he was a worthless piece of—” His face reddened. “They said some mean stuff about Bruiser.”
He winced as she held a bag of ice against his swollen eye. “I tried to tell them he was a good dog, but they said, ‘I’ll bet you fifty bucks we can get him to turn on you.’ I said Bruiser would never turn on me.” He frowned and the eye that wasn’t covered looked at Katie beseechingly. “He wouldn’t, would he, Katie? Bruiser would never turn on me.”
“Of course not. He loves you.”
“Yeah, he loves me.”
“What happened then?” she asked.
“They wouldn’t let me go. Two guys stood in front of me and two were behind me. They said they’d share their vodka with me if I’d kick Bruiser. I said I wasn’t thirsty. I wouldn’t kick Bruiser.”
“Good for you, Delbert,” she said.
“Only that made them mad. They shoved me. Bruiser started to growl. They said I’d better tie him to a tree, or…or the police would take him away.”
Katie knew Delbert would do anything to protect Bruiser and wasn’t smart enough to realize the dog was his only defense. “And you did it.”
“I had to, Katie. I didn’t want Bruiser to bite anyone. Then someone hit me, and I fell down. They were hitting me and kicking me and…and hitting me. Until Booker came.”
Katie could only imagine the scene and understood, from her own feelings at the moment, how furious Booker must have been to see grown men attacking someone like Delbert. “Booker tried to stop them?”
“He pulled them off me. Then everyone was fighting. I ran to the Honky Tonk. Officer Orton was there. But when he came, he took Booker to jail.” He blinked several times in an attempt to stanch emotions that were obviously still very near the surface. “I shouldn’t have gone there.”
“You didn’t know, Delbert. Don’t feel bad. What about the other guys?”
“They went home, I guess.”
Fresh anger surged through Katie’s blood. “They weren’t taken to the station with you?”
“No. Officer Orton told them, ‘You’re free to go. Tell your dad I said hello, Jon.”’
“Jon Small? Councilman Small’s son?”
“Yeah.”
Katie gritted her teeth. “Who else was there?”
“I don’t know.”
No wonder Booker looked the way he did. She got a couple of Tylenol out of the cupboard and handed the pills to Delbert, along with a glass of water. “Take these and go to bed,” she said. “Everything will be better in the morning.”
“I hope so, Katie.” Delbert started shuffling across the kitchen but turned back before he reached the stairs. “Is Booker going to be okay?”
She couldn’t help smiling at the worry in his voice. “I’ll make sure of it.”
“Good. That’s good, Katie. You take care of Booker. You make sure he’s going to be okay.”
KATIE HEARD THE SHOWER turn off while she waited in Booker’s room for him to cross the hall. He’d been in the bathroom a long time. Were his injuries worse than she’d originally thought? Or was he simply letting the water pound down on his sore muscles while he grappled with the emotions raging through him? She could certainly identify with what he had to be feeling. Councilman Small’s son wasn’t some stupid teenager caught up in peer pressure. He was at least thirty-five and had no business tormenting a man who was more like a child, no business ganging up on anyone four to one.
And what did Orton think he was doing, taking Booker to jail instead of Jon and his friends? Tell your father hello for me….
Katie was sitting on the foot of Booker’s bed, holding the first-aid kit in her lap, when the bathroom door opened. She knew Booker saw her as soon as he entered, but he didn’t acknowledge her presence. He flipped off the light and dropped his towel as if to say it was her problem if she saw more than she wanted to, since he hadn’t asked her to come into his bedroom.
Without the light on, she couldn’t see much, just a quick shadowy view of his backside as he pulled on a pair of boxers. Then he got into bed, yanked the covers up and turned away from her.
Katie wanted to talk about what had happened. But she knew Booker was in pain—from more than his injuries. She also knew he didn’t deal with emotional issues the same way she did and wouldn’t want to discuss it. At least not yet.
Taking a deep breath, because it was difficult to stay when he’d made it abundantly clear that he didn’t want her there, she walked around to the other side of the bed.
“Move over,” she said.
“Katie—”
“Move over.” She spoke more firmly the second time and it came as a shock when he did as she asked.
She turned the light back on, opened the first-aid kit, and sat beside him.
He flung an arm across his eyes. “Do you have to do this? I’ve been in plenty of fights. I’m sure I’ll live without your assistance.”
But she had to see how badly he was hurt so she could put her own mind at rest. “This won’t take long.” She glanced up at the light, which did seem rather bright. “I guess I don’t have to blind you, though.”
Adjusting the door to let in enough light from the hall, she darkened the room again and returned to his bed. Then she pulled the covers down to his waist so she could see the extent of his injuries.
She’d seen Booker before—all of him. She knew he had a body women admired and men envied. She especially liked his sinewy chest and the dark hair that swirled so perfectly across it. But she hadn’t been aroused in at least a year and certainly didn’t expect the desire that overtook her now.
Licking dry lips, she lifted her eyes to find Booker watching her. Time seemed to stand still as they stared at each other. She wanted him to touch her, to make love to her the way he used to, when she’d been foolish enough to take him for granted and then cast him aside. But he made no move, except to close his eyes and turn his face away.
He wasn’t interested. Of course he wouldn’t be. That realization cost her some self-esteem, but she couldn’t really blame him. She was six months pregnant with someone else’s child. Why would he wan
t her when he could have a woman with a body like Chevy’s? A woman with no immediate promise of future responsibility?
Katie’s chest constricted, making it difficult to breathe. She’d been crazy to let the thought of making love, to anyone, cross her mind. What was the matter with her? She was finished with men, remember? Probably she was just hormonal. Pregnant women got that way.
Squeezing some antiseptic ointment onto her fingers, she dabbed it on the cut over Booker’s brow and a couple of the gouges on his hands. He wouldn’t allow any Band-Aids, said they’d only fall off, but he let her raise his chin so she could reach the cut on his lip. While she worked, she could feel the roughness of his whiskers, the softness of his lip and his steady regard beneath his lashes.
“Your hand is swelling pretty badly,” she said, releasing his chin as soon as possible. “You don’t think it’s broken, do you?”
“No.”
“Is there any way to be sure?”
“Short of having it X-rayed? No.”
“Maybe we should take you to the doctor.”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“Because I’m going to sleep now.”
“We could go in the morning, when you wake up.”
“Or I could go to the garage instead.”
“Booker, you work with your hands.”
No response.
“Fine. If you won’t have the injury X-rayed, I won’t go to Rebecca’s OB in Boise. I’ll head straight over to Dr. Hatcher,” she said, infusing her voice with a threatening note.
“You can’t,” he said simply.
“Why not?”
“Because you already traded me for that, and I’m not going to let you out of it.”
“Fine. I’ll trade you something else.”
A muscle flexed in his cheek. “Like what?”
“What do you want?”
His gaze lowered to her belly.