Page 154 of The Woman By the Lake

“He’s staying for dinner,” Riggs told her.

“Excellent,” she said. Then to Harry, she asked, “Off duty? Want a beer?”

“I’d murder a beer,” Harry told her.

Her head twitched, she gave him a look, then she went to the fridge.

After she did, Riggs gave his friend his own look and kept doing it.

“Everything cool?” he asked.

“Actually, yeah, but on the other hand, it never really is,” Harry answered.

No truer words spoken.

“Grab a stool,” he bid. “Ledger’s outside somewhere with Gia, so beware. He cottons on you’re here, you could have a nine-year-old kid and ninety-pound dog that could rip off your arm all over you at any time.”

The skin around his friend’s eyes wrinkled, and he took a stool.

Nadia put an open bottle of beer in front of him.

Riggs tossed the towel aside and resumed cutting potatoes.

Harry took in Nadia wearing her apron, the beer she gave him, the potatoes, Riggs, and opened his mouth.

Riggs got there before him. “Fuck off.”

He felt Nadia look at him, but Harry just hid his smile behind a drag off his beer.

“So what’s up?” Riggs asked.

“Pertinent to you,” Harry began, “Evan Pugh’s parents want to know if you and Nadia are good with him coming out here accompanied by them so he can apologize formally for being an asshat.”

Pugh was one of the boys who’d fucked with Nadia, the shorter one she landed her brand of ice on.

Riggs looked to Nadia.

She shrugged.

He turned again to Harry. “Not necessary, but if his parents think it is, we can work that out.”

“Great. I’ll tell them. Next up, Casey Grimes is dedicated to the task of remaining a douchebag. He’s pissed I got his son in my cells and I’m not letting him go, and he’s ticked about the fine levied. He told me to tell you that if you didn’t drop charges against his kid, he’s going to sue you in civil court for assault.”

Bryce Grimes was the other kid, and the ringleader who, Harry found out after they dragged the kids to the station, did it on his own until he corralled Pugh into getting in on the act Saturday night.

And yeah.

His dad was an asshole. He made serious cake. Had some big job for a medical equipment company in Seattle, something everyone knew since he wouldn’t shut up about the device he helped design that did something about heart attacks or angina or some shit. But he worked from home in Misted Pines because he saw himself as a mountain man. And as much as he could, he swung his dick and flashed his cash around MP.

He hunted, just sayin’, and it wasn’t a family tradition and not even close to a way of life.

“Maybe banged up a bit, but not a mark on either of them, Harry,” Riggs reminded them.

“I know. And I impressed upon him visually, showing him the video you sent me, that you got Bryce dead to rights. He was on your patch uninvited, and you’d walk even if you shot him, which I also impressed on him he should be grateful didn’t happen, because in these parts, that’s a possibility. So it’s highly likely he’ll not only lose, but a judge will be so pissed he wasted his time, the judge will make him pay court fees and your attorney’s fees. Since he’s got money to burn, he doesn’t care. He says you laid hands on his son, and he’s just a kid, and that’s not on.”

“His kid is six foot, seventeen years old and was out here not knowing I was here, thinking he was fucking with a woman alone at three nineteen in the morning. He’s a kid, but not a kid, and old enough to know better,” Riggs returned. “Though, with a dad like his who isn’t teaching him that lesson, I can figure out why he doesn’t.”

“I shared that too. He says it’s the principle of it. And I think we can both agree that his principles and ours don’t align.”

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