Page 20 of Hunting the Crossbow Killer

Grace stood over him where she’d flipped him onto his back. “Can’t say I didn’t warn you.”

“Nope,” he groaned. “Can’t say you didn’t. If you ripped your stitches out don’t ask me to patch you up again. You hurt my feelings.” He grimaced. “And my back.”

“I’ll buy you a day at the spa.” She headed to the door again and threw it open.

Aidan stood in the opening, arching a brow. “Going somewhere?”

She groaned. “Great timing.”

He looked past her. “Seriously, Collier? You’re twice her size. And she’s injured. Did she put you on the floor?”

“Afraid so.” He groaned again. “I might need help getting up.”

Aidan stepped inside, forcing Grace to back up. He stopped beside Collier, shaking his head. “Pathetic.” He grabbed Collier’s hand and hauled him upright.

“Ouch, sheesh. Some warning would have been nice, man.”

“Twice her size, Collier,” Aidan reminded him. “Unbelievable.” He headed into the kitchen and opened the door to what must have been his pantry.

“Trust me,” Collier said. “I won’t underestimate her again.” He gave Grace a hurt look and limped to the couch. “Not that I should be nice to you after that, but I meant to tell you earlier to keep your bandage dry when you shower. I’ll need to change it tomorrow and make sure an infection isn’t setting in. Just promise you won’t flip me over your shoulder again.”

“That depends on whether you deserve it or not,” she teased.

He rolled his eyes. “Oh, hey, O’Brien. I saw some venison stew in your refrigerator earlier—”

“Collier,” Grace warned.

He gave her a sullen look and settled deeper against the cushions.

“Where’s everyone else, Aidan?” She moved toward the door again as he spread a checkered tablecloth over the table.

“Right here,” a voice said.

She had to step back for Dawson and Fletcher to come inside. Dawson was carrying a quiver of arrows. Fletcher followed, wearing latex gloves and holding a quart-sized can and a brush with dried red paint on it. She set her bounty on the tabletop and gave Aidan an odd look when he sat at the table.

“Should you be here with the evidence?” she asked.

“Officer Fletcher,” Dawson said. “Is there a reason the owner of this property, the victim in an attempted framing scheme who helped us find this evidence and is allowing us to temporarily use his home, shouldn’t sit with us and discuss what we’ve found?”

Her face reddened. “No, sir.”

“I didn’t think so.”

Aidan gave him a subtle nod of thanks.

Fletcher’s face turned even redder. Obviously, she wasn’t in the same camp as Collier, or even Dawson now, about Aidan’s character.

Dawson set the quiver on the table and then made a detour to the couch, looking down at Collier. “Do I even want to know?”

Collier grimaced. “No, sir.”

Dawson shook his head and returned to the table, sitting beside Fletcher. Grace sat to Aidan’s left. Collier made an amazing recovery and jogged over to take the chair between Aidan and Fletcher.

“What happened?” Grace asked. “Is Ortiz taking the suspect to jail?”

“No,” Dawson said. “Ortiz is at the station. A 911 call came in while we were out so he had to rush back and take care of it. False alarm. Everyone’s fine. But he’ll hang there for now.”

“So you didn’t find the suspect, but you found his things in the woods?”

---