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Now she was going all philosophical on me, but it wouldn’t work. I was in control of my emotions here, and we couldn’t trust each other—not anymore.
“But I’m not done.” I reached out to get Jose back. Every glass had helped a little, and I needed more.
“You’re done for tonight, and one more thing. You have to stay another day.”
“Why?” I complained. “I need to get out of here tomorrow.”
“You drink my booze and you want to crash on my couch, then I want another day of your help trying to figure out what happened to Lee. Besides, you’d have to leave early in the morning to reach Florida, and you won’t be in any condition to drive. Trust me.”
It made some sense, and I did feel bad that I hadn’t figured out the Lee puzzle for her yet. “Okay.” I’d been here a month, and Kevin hadn’t found me. What was one more day if it meant not driving with a hangover?
“Now tell me what happened with you two.”
I leaned back. “Thaz won’t help anything.”
“You owe it to me. You’re crashing on my couch.”
I patted the worn cushion next to me. “This isn’t big enough to call a couch.”
She pointed the neck of the bottle at me. “I’m waiting.”
“He wanted to talk about when he got arrested—said he had proof that I accused him of stealing a tractor.”
“And?”
I cocked my head. What was it she didn’t understand? “I never said anything to the police about any stupid tractor. He didn’t believe me. ‘In black and white,’ he said.”
Pris blew out a breath. “Maybe he—”
I shook my head. “No,” I insisted. “Iz over. He thinks I’m a liar. He thinks I ruined his life.”
CHAPTER37
Boone
The next morning,I walked up to the den of the enemy, the police station. There would be no living with Marge, or working with Grace, until this was resolved.
“How could you treat her like that?” Grace had asked for the hundredth time as I’d walked out of the house.
I needed to show them a copy of that report to put this to rest. I’d had enough of being called names by those two to last a lifetime. Only the black and white on the page would convince them.
I pulled open the door to the police station and was greeted by the same day-old-pizza smell as always. Why couldn’t they at least eat Chinese once in a while?
The chief wasn’t here, only our village idiot, Devlin.
“Look what the cat dragged in,” he said from behind his desk.
“Is that the best insult you have?” I shot back. “Dickie?”
“Better watch your mouth, Benson,” he said, standing.
I’d had enough of this dipshit. I strode over and stopped six inches away. “Or what? You’ll pee on my boots instead of in your pants?”
The door to the back opened, and Earl, the chief, appeared. “What’s goin’ on?” he asked.
Devlin seethed, but got control of himself before he did something stupid. He knew as well as I did that if he initiated something in front of the chief, it would be bad. “Pa, I was asking Mr. Benson what could I help him with today.”
I backed up and put my hands in my pockets to lower the tension. “I want to see an arrest report.”
