Page 2 of Things We Hide from the Light
“Any particular kind of things?” I asked.
“All remaining targets on the list are receiving federal protection until we ascertain that the threat is no longer imminent,” Idler explained.
Christ.The whole damn town was going to be in an uproar if they found out federal agents were hanging around waiting forsomeone to break the law. And I didn’t have the energy for an uproar.
“I don’t need protection,” I said. “If Duncan Hugo had two brain cells to rub together, he wouldn’t be hanging around here. He’s long gone.” At least, that was what I told myself late at night when the sleep wouldn’t come.
“All due respect, Chief, you’re the one who got himself shot. You’re lucky you’re still here,” Graham said with a smug twitch of his mustache.
“What about my brother’s fiancée and niece? Hugo kidnapped them. Are they getting protection?”
“We have no reason to believe that Naomi and Waylay Witt are in any danger at this time,” Idler said.
The twinge in my shoulder graduated to a dull throb to match the one in my head. I was low on sleep and patience, and if I didn’t get these two pains in the ass out of my office, I wasn’t confident I could keep things civil.
Mustering as much southern charm as I could, I rose from behind my desk. “Understood. Now, if y’all will excuse me, I have a town to serve.”
The agents got to their feet and we exchanged perfunctory handshakes.
“I’d appreciate it if you’d keep me in the loop. Seein’ as how I’ve got a ‘personal interest’ and all,” I said as they hit the door.
“We’ll be sure to share what we can,” Idler said. “We’ll also be expecting a call from you as soon as you remember anything from the shooting.”
“Will do,” I said through gritted teeth. Between the trifecta of physical wounds, memory loss, and the empty numbness, I was a shadow of the man I’d been.
“Be seein’ you,” Graham said. It sounded like a threat.
I waited until they’d strutted their asses out of my station before snagging my jacket off the coat rack. The hole in myshoulder protested when I shoved my arm into the sleeve. The one in my torso didn’t feel much better.
“You all right, Chief?” Grave asked when I stepped out into the bullpen.
Under normal circumstances, my sergeant would have insisted on a play-by-play of the meeting followed by an hour-long bitch session about jurisdictional bullshit. But since I’d gotten myself shot and almost killed, everyone was doing their damnedest to treat me with kid gloves.
Maybe I wasn’t hiding things as well as I thought.
“Fine,” I said, harsher than I’d intended.
“Heading out?” he prodded.
“Yeah.”
The eager new patrol officer popped up out of her chair like it was spring-loaded. “If you want lunch, I can pick something up for you from Dino’s, Chief,” she offered.
Born and raised in Knockemout, Tashi Bannerjee was police academy fresh. Now, her shoes gleamed and her dark hair was scraped back in a regulations-exceeding bun. But four years ago, she’d been ticketed in high school with riding a horse through a fast-food drive-thru. Most of the department had skirted the line of the law at some point in our youth, which made it mean more that we chose to uphold it rather than circumvent it.
“I can get my own damn lunch,” I snapped.
Her face fell for just a second before she recovered, making me feel like I’d just landed a kick to a puppy.Fuck.I was turning into my brother.
“Thanks for the offer though,” I added in a slightly less antagonized tone.
Great.Now I had to do something nice. Again. Make yet another I’m-sorry-for-being-an-asshole gesture that I didn’t have the energy for. So far this week, I’d brought in coffee, doughnuts, and—after a particularly embarrassing loss oftemper over the thermostat in the bullpen—gas station candy bars.
“I’m heading out to PT. Be back in an hour or so.”
With that, I stepped out into the hall and strode toward the exit like I had business to attend to just in case anyone else had a mind to try to strike up a conversation.
I blanked my mind and tried to focus on what was happening right in front of me.
