"You think because you have money-"
"No, Phoebe, I know because I have money." Gently, he lifted her hands, in turn, touched his lips to her bandaged wrists, comforting even as he laid down the law. "It oils the wheels, and that's just another fact. You're smart, and you've got that purpose that just sets me off. I'm betting you'll have this bastard frying inside that week. If not, well, my turn."
"Your turn? This is a police matter, and it has nothing to do with turns. That's grade school."
He smiled at her, just enough to have the dimple flickering. "You know, you look like hell right now."
"Excuse me?"
"What I'm saying is, you look pretty damn awful, your face all banged up that way. Even with the Grey's Anatomy thing going with the scrubs, you look like hell. So, why it should be I can look at you right now and still be attracted right down to the soles of my feet is a goddamn puzzle. But I am."
Torn in a dozen directions, she dumped the frozen peas on the tea tray. "What the hell does that have to do with this?"
"Nothing. It just popped into my head. Want some more tea? And yeah," he added when she just stared at him, "that's a change of subject. Your mind's made up; mine is, too. So what's the point of arguing about it when neither of us is going to budge on the issue? And you can't be feeling your best, so I don't feel right fighting with you."
"No, I don't want any more tea, thanks. And you're right, I'm not feeling my best, but it's important that you understand there's a wide difference between retribution and the law."
"We'll have to debate that some other time, when you're back at full power. You want to take a whirlpool? Hot water, jets? It might help with some of the aches."
Another thing she'd let slip by, she thought, was the man had a head like a rock. "That's a nice offer, but no. I'm going to need to get home." And the thought of that had her looking down at herself. "God."
"Do you want to call them first? Prepare them?"
"No. No, then they'd just worry until I got there. I'm putting you out again, Duncan, having you drive me all the way back."
"So, you'll owe me."
He helped her out to the car. Even the short walk wore her out, so she just sat, out of breath, while he strapped her in.
Carly would be coming in from school any minute, she thought as he drove toward home. Mama would be finishing up taking her Internet orders for the day, or boxing up completed pieces to go out in the mail in the morning. Ava, likely home from errands, would be fussing around in the kitchen.
Just an easy Monday afternoon. And she was about to shatter it. "Who plays the piano?"
"Nobody. I sort of do. Just by ear. I always thought a piano added class to a room."
"Cousin Bess insisted Carter and I take lessons. I got the mechanics of it; Carter got the heart." She let her head fall back. "I wish this part was over. The shocking them, the explaining it all again part. I wish it was over."
"I can explain what happened for you, if you want."
"I have to do it. Where's your family, Duncan?" It occurred to her that nowhere in the rooms she'd been in in the grand house had she seen any photos of family.
"Here and there."
"Long story?"
"Epic. We'll save it for another time."
Her cell phone rang, and with some effort she reached for her purse and pulled it out. "This is Phoebe. Yes, Dave, I'm all right, I'm better. No, I'm on my way home now. I've been with a friend. Could be worse." She listened awhile. "I understand. I'll be in tomorrow to- Sir. Captain. Dave." She let out a frustrated breath. "Two days then. Three. Yes, sir, thank you. And I'd like the sit-down rescheduled for Thursday, if possible. I appreciate that. I will. Yes, I will. Bye."
"Okay?" Duncan asked.
"Not entirely, but better than it could've been. He was going to order me to take medical leave for two weeks."
"The bastard."
She let out a laugh, then sucked air as it pinged her ribs. "I'd go crazy sitting home having Mama and Ava fuss over me for two weeks. He knows that. I'll heal better if I'm working, and it makes a statement where a statement needs to be made. He knows that, too. He was probably after the three or four days all along. He's a sneaky son of a bitch."
"Sounds like somebody I'd like."
"Probably. He got away with my weapon."
"What? Captain Dave?"
"No. No, not the captain. Sorry, this whole thing's scrambled my brain so I can't seem to think in a straight line."
The cop who'd hurt her, Duncan realized. And since she was busy brooding over it, he gave her room.
Just as he gave her room to be agitated as they approached Jones Street. "Want a bourbon and a cigarette first?"
"Don't think I wouldn't. I'm about to take on multiple hysterical females." She prepared herself with deep breaths as he drove down the brick-paved street. "Oh God. That just caps it."
"What?" Duncan shot her a glance, saw her fit on a stoic smile. Then saw the man who'd been strolling along in the dappled sunlight break into a run.
"Phoebe! Phoebe, what happened?" The man wrenched the door open, reached down. "My God, what happened to you? Who are you?" He threw the words at Duncan like stones. "What the hell did you do to my sister?"
"Carter, stop! Stop. He didn't do a thing but help me."
"Who hurt you? Where is he?"
People strolled along Jones-residents and tourists-and now, Phoebe noted, any number of those strollers had stopped to stare at the beat-up woman and the two men on either side of a flashy white Porsche.
"You can stop shouting on a public street like a lunatic. Let's go inside."
"They're good questions." Duncan came around to the passenger seat. "I'd like the answers, too. I'm Duncan. She's got a lot of tender spots. We'll need to be careful-"
"I can take care of her."
"Carter, stop it. Do you want to add to the extremely crappy day I've had by being rude to a friend? I apologize for my ill-mannered brother, Duncan."
"No problem."
"Oh God, there's Miz Tiffany and that ridiculous dog heading over from the park. I can't deal with that. Carter, for the love of God, don't make me deal with that. Help me get inside."
"Easy does it," Duncan advised, and caught a glimpse of a woman, well past a certain age, with a blond bubble of hair, being led by a tiny, apparently hairless dog wearing a polka-dot tie. "She hasn't seen you yet. I'd be ill mannered, too, by the way, in your place," he told Carter as they got Phoebe to the sidewalk. "Still, under any circumstances, when I bring a woman home, I take her to the door."
Resigned to it, Phoebe allowed herself to be flanked, then all but carried up the steps. And with the overture complete, she thought, Here comes the show.
When the door opened, Essie was already on her way down the hall. "I thought I heard you shouting, Carter. I… Phoebe! Oh my God." She went white as paste, swayed.
"Let me go," Phoebe murmured, then hurried forward. "Mama. I'm all right, Mama. Breathe for me. I'm all right, I'm home. Carter, go get her some water."
"No, no." Still ghostly pale, Essie lifted a hand to Phoebe's cheek. "Baby girl."
"I'm all right."
"Your face. Reuben-"
"Is dead, Mama. You know that."
"Yes. Yes. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. Oh, Phoebe. What happened? Your face, your arm. Ava!"
She'd snapped back, Phoebe noted. Still white as a sheet, but she'd snapped back.
Ava rushed out from the back of the house. And there was, for the next several minutes, a mass of confusion, voices, movement, tears. Duncan closed the front door, stood back. He'd always figured if you can't help, stay out of the way.