Page 80 of You Shouldn't Have Come Here

“Is she okay?” the deputy asked.

I glared at the back of Joe’s head. “Yeah, I think so.”

“I need to see her now.” His tone matched the serious look on his face.

He took a step toward me and his hand went to his pistol. I’m not sure if it was instinctual or he genuinely thought Joe or I were a threat—that we had done something to Grace.

Joe huffed, throwing his hands up. “Just take me down to the station. I’m drunk, and I started a fire.”

“I’ll deal with you later.” The sheriff scowled at Joe but then returned his gaze to me. “First, I need to check on Grace.”

Joe got to his feet, wobbly. It took him a moment to get his balance, and when he did, he put his hands in front of his stomach. “Just leave her out of this. Go ahead and arrest me. I know you want to.”

“Sit back down,” the deputy commanded, pointing to the stairs. He clenched his jaw and retrieved the pistol from his belt.

“Jesus,” Joe said, putting his hands up and falling back into a sitting position.

I took a step back.

“Deputy, you stay out here with this goon,” Sheriff Almond gestured to Joe. “I’ll go and talk to her.”

The deputy nodded but kept his gun in his hand, carefully watching my dumbass brother.

I opened the screen door and led the way.

Sheriff Almond followed behind. His hand hovered over his pistol. He took a quick look around the living room, surveying the damage from the fire. His eyes were intense. They scanned back and forth between my hands and my head as if he was anticipating a move on my part.

“Keep going,” he said.

I walked down the hallway deliberately, keeping my hands at my sides, so I’d give him no reason to put one of those bullets in me. But sometimes you didn’t need a reason.

In front of Grace’s door, I turned back slowly toward the sheriff. “She’s in there.”

He tapped my shoulder, gesturing me to move aside. He knocked on the door three times.

“Grace, it’s Sheriff Almond with the Dubois Sheriff’s Department.” He kept an eye on me while waiting for Grace to open the door. It was dead quiet and nothing stirred on the other side.

Growing impatient, the sheriff turned the doorknob and pushed open the door. He flicked on the light, revealing Grace lying on the bed with her back facing him.

“Grace,” he said again. There was concern in his voice. He looked at me and then took a couple steps toward the bed so he was standing over her. I waited just outside the room, peering inside.

“Grace.”

She didn’t stir. She lay completely still. He bent down and placed his hand on her shoulder, shaking it. Grace jolted up into a sitting position. Her quick movement startled him, and he nearly leapt back.

She rubbed at her eyes. “What?”

“You called the police, Grace. I’m here to check on you. To make sure you’re all right.”

She pulled the blanket up higher and brought her knees to her chest, hesitating with her response. Her eyes swung back and forth between the sheriff and me like she had something she wanted to say. I was scared, scared she was going to ask for a ride out of town.

“I’m fine,” she finally landed on.

I let out a sigh of relief.

Sheriff Almond tilted his head and then turned back toward me. “Give us a moment.”

I nodded. “I’ll be in the kitchen.”

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