Page 15 of Mountain Defender

Of course the police would want to question me. They didn’t back at my house, mainly because Gage put his foot down and said I wasn’t in any condition for it. “She probably has a concussion,” he informed the responding officers—not Sage and the man with her—with a deep frown. “Possible early stages of hypothermia. Not to mention she’s bruised all over and there are injuries we might not be able to see.”

So I got a brief reprieve. But now that I’ve been checked over and declared stable, there’s no reason Ican’ttalk to the police.

Well, aside from wishing I could bury my head in the proverbial sand and pretend none of this is happening, but I don’t think that’s a realistic possibility.

“Well,” the man says as he steps into the room, “I know you’ve already met Officer Nelson. I’m Officer Quillian. And the two of us will be working your case. If you’re feeling up to it, we’d like to ask you some questions.”

“I know your throat must be sore,” Sage—Officer Nelson—says. “So we’ll try to make this as quick as possible.”

“Okay.” And now that she mentioned it, itdoeshurt to talk. But in the scheme of things, a sore throat is much preferable to being, you know,dead. “What do you want to know?”

Officers Quillian and Nelson walk closer to my bed, their gazes quickly skimming my body. Officer Quillian’s jaw tightens as he notices the bruises on my neck. Officer Nelson scowls when her eyes land on the giant lump on my forehead.

“I understand your memory is a little foggy,” Officer Nelson says. “And that’s okay. If you could just take us through what you do remember, starting with last night.” He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a small notebook. A second later, a bright purple pen with metallic streamers appears.

Instead of answering, I can’t help staring at the incongruity of it. This stern-faced cop with a crisp uniform and no-nonsense demeanor holding a pen that looks more like something a little girl would use.

“It’s from my niece,” he says, reading the question on my face. “She loves giving me… unique pens, I’d call them. But it makes her happy to know I’m using them, so I do.”

“That’s nice,” I reply, glad to have something more pleasant to talk about. “How old is she?”

Officer Quillian smiles. “She’s nine. You’ve probably met her. Lissa Dawson. Her mom is my sister—Gloria Dawson. They adopted a dog from you last year. A little poodle?—”

“Oh, Frankie.” For a second, all the stress slips away. “I remember. Lissa was so thrilled. How is everything going?”

“Really good. Lissa loves Frankie. And unsurprisingly, she has all sorts of glittery things for him to wear.”

Now my smile feels more real. “That’s awesome. I’m so glad things are working out.”

“They are,” Officer Quillian agrees. Then he pauses, his expression sobering. “So. Last night?”

Right. All the stuff I can’t remember.

“Why don’t we start with yesterday afternoon?” Officer Nelson suggests. “We already talked to Mr. McKay, and he said he left around one-fifteen.” A beat passes. Her foreheadwrinkles. “This is all confidential, Aurora. So if there’s something?—”

“No.” It bursts out, loud and adamant. I fight a wince at the tearing sensation in my throat. “Gage didn’t do anything… He wouldn’t. You can’t possibly think?—”

“We just have to cover all bases,” Officer Quillian soothes. He takes another step towards my bed. The faint breeze from the air vent catches the little silver streamers on his pen, adding a welcome touch of lightness to the situation. “It’s not that we think Gage was involved. But we wouldn’t be doing our job if we didn’t inquire about anyone you saw yesterday.”

My shoulders sag. “Sorry. I get it. But… I just don’t want you looking into Gage. He wouldn’t hurt me. Hehelpedme.” Taking a steadying breath, I add, “Honestly, I don’t think I can give you much information. The last thing I remember was brushing my teeth before bed. And then waking up in the woods.”

Officer Nelson exchanges a quick glance with her partner. Then her attention comes back to me. “Okay. So maybe we’ll start a little earlier than that. Did you go anywhere yesterday? Did anyone else come to visit with the dogs? Any deliveries?”

“Um.” Scrunching my forehead as I think, I take a moment before replying. “The only place I went yesterday was to the farm stand just down the road. The one Mrs. Adamson runs. She wasn’t out there, though. I just took a carton of eggs and some blueberries and left the money in the lockbox.”

“Okay.” Officer Quillian jots something in his notebook. “And no one else was there while you were?”

“No one,” I affirm. “Later, the delivery guy came with some dog food. But he just left it on my porch. I never talked to him. Aside from some phone calls, Gage was the only person I spoke to all day.” Which sounds pretty pathetic, now that I’m thinking about it.

From there, the next few minutes are filled with more innocuous questions, like when I made dinner and my normal evening routine. Officers Nelson and Quillian are so nice about it; a few times I almost forget the reason they’re here in the first place.

Then we get to the end of the night, and the topic takes a scarier turn.

“Did you see anything outside?” Officer Nelson asks. “Headlights at the end of the driveway? Lights or movement in the yard?”

“I didn’t,” I reply. A weight settles on my chest. “Like I said, I watched some TV, read a little on my Kindle, and took Elmore and Toby out one last time before bedtime. Everything seemed normal.”

“What about when you were inside?” Officer Quillian’s dark blue eyes meet mine. “Did you hear any noises? Any sounds from the dogs in the barn?”

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