Chapter Thirteen

From her position on the hospital bed Carla could just see the curtain surrounding her cubicle. Outside she could hear Dyson talking to someone she didn’t know, probably the police officer from Sheridan, she supposed. Their voices dashed the tiny strand of hope which she had harbored since her arrival. She had memorized the route between here and the X-ray department and knew exactly where all the exit signs were for the building. She had hoped that if she could just sneak behind the curtain before they saw her she would have a good chance of making an escape. Their proximity and that look Dyson had thrown her as they wheeled her back in had soon put paid to that, however.

She chewed her cheek, thoughtfully. She really didn’t want to leave the guys again—it would break her heart. But she knew Dyson had to do his job—however painful if might be for all of them.

“You’ll be pleased to know everything looks in order, Miss Burchfield.” The young doctor she had seen earlier drew back the curtain as he spoke.

She immediately sat up as the Shearers and a couple of uniformed officers neared her bed.

“That’s good to hear, doctor,” Dyson interjected with a nod.

The doctor turned to smile at him. “She’s a bit dehydrated, Sheriff, and needs to take things easy for a while, but she’ll be right as rain by tomorrow, I’m sure. Just a couple of nasty knocks to the head but nothing that concerns us. I’ll prescribe some painkillers in case the headaches persist, but other than that she’s all yours.”

Despite the way she felt about the guys, Carla couldn’t help feeling a little indignant. She glared at them. Dyson wasn’t her caretake—r, for heaven’s sake, and she would have preferred to have been told all this privately. And to tell the sheriff she was all his made her look like a wanted criminal! The thought hit her like a dagger—perhaps that’s what she was.

“We’ll take her back to the office for the interviews, I think, gentlemen,” Dyson informed the cops. “It’ll be a bit more private than here and I’m sure the doc needs the space back.”

The doctor smiled gratefully and handed Dyson the script.

“You wanna sort this out while we get her settled for the trip back?” Dyson sounded very officious as he handed the paper to his brother, who winked cheekily at Carla before disappearing to the hospital pharmacy.

“You okay?” Dyson shot her a dazzling smile which made her stomach lurch but she forced herself to look away. No matter how she felt about the gorgeous guy, he was just doing his job.

“I need the bathroom,” she muttered.

“Oh no. I know what happened last time you went to the bathroom.” Dyson looked serious and Carla felt panic rising within her. They had insisted that she kept drinking water ever since she arrived here and now she was desperate to go.

“But I do need it,” she insisted as he helped her off the bed.

“I can take her if you like, Sheriff?” A young nurse was passing the bay and poked her head around to offer her services.

Dyson smiled at her and the nurse blushed. Carla seethed. She had never thought she was the jealous type, but an angry, sickly feeling suddenly flooded her stomach.

“That’s real kind of you, ma’am.”

“It’s no trouble at all,” she assured him as she took Carla’s arm. “It’s just across the way there. You’re not gonna try anything stupid, are you, missy?”

The pretty nurse had such a patronizing tone Carla had to bite her tongue to avoid saying something she might later regret. What made it worse was the look Dyson gave her, which echoed the sentiment of the nurse precisely. Carla settled for narrowing her eyes to tell them both that she wasn’t happy with their treatment of her, but said nothing.

Matt had returned with a bottle of pills for her when Carla emerged, annoyed and more than a little embarrassed, from the patients’ bathroom. The nurse had watched her like a hawk, and it had taken all her resolve not to tell her what she thought—he’s mine!

As the nurse made doe-eyes at Dyson, who thanked her for her help, Matt snickered. The other officers went on ahead while the twins led her out to the waiting SUV.

“I’ll sit in the back with her,” Matt offered with a snicker.

“Are you sure you don’t want to cuff me as well?” she snapped.

“If that’s what you’re into I’m sure we can oblige, baby.” Dyson chuckled as he pulled the handcuffs from his back pocket and held them up to her.

Carla pursed her lips angrily and climbed into the car. The guys had been so lovely when they had rescued her but now Dyson seemed determined to show her his ‘official side’. Matt seemed very quiet, although his smirks and giggles were a constant indication of how he felt about it all.

She sat back in her seat as Matt’s strong arm came around her. At first she thought he was being affectionate and began to relax, until she realized he was actually fastening her seatbelt.

“Just being on the safe side,” he assured her with a grin.

Yeah, right!

“You’ll be pleased to know Pearson’s been taken back to Sheridan for questioning,” Dyson announced as he drove off.

She nodded. She was pleased to hear it, although she realized that they still wanted to know all about her involvement in all of this. What had he already told them?

Subconsciously her fingers found the tiny key which hung from her pendant-chain around her neck. If only she hadn’t allowed herself to become distracted with these guys, and got on with the task of returning the money to Mr. Roberts, she wouldn’t be in this mess now. She sighed at her own stupidity and sank miserably into the leather upholstery. Matt’s arm came around her and she immediately assumed he was adjusting her seatbelt, but this time he was comforting her. Surrounded by his spicy scent and the steady rhythm of his heartbeat, she snuggled into his chest and closed her eyes.

****

“Come on, darlin’.” Matt’s soothing drawl permeated her dream a while later and she slowly woke up.

The first thing she saw was his emerald-green eyes smiling at her and she gasped, breathing him in.

“We’re here, sweetheart,” he told her quietly as he clicked open her seatbelt and helped her out of the car.

The tranquility she had felt on waking in his arms suddenly dissipated as she stood outside the sheriff’s office, shivering in the dark as the rain poured over her.

“Let’s get you inside.” Matt slung his arm around her shoulder and took her into the building.

It was larger than Carla had expected and looked quite modern inside. All the furniture was made of beech wood and the cream walls added to the light and airy feel of the place.

“We’re in here,” Dyson called to them as they waited in the doorway to the main office.

He led them down the corridor and they went into a meeting room which was set out boardroom-style and smelled of fresh coffee.

“Don’t look so worried, they only want to talk to you,” Matt murmured into her ear as he offered her a seat opposite two police officers.

“They?” She frowned up at him, noticing that he hadn’t sat next to her as she had expected—and hoped.

“Yup. Dyson’s the law enforcer ’round here, darlin’, not me. I’m just a farmer.”

“No, you’re much more than that,” she whispered, staring into his gorgeous face.

She was surprised at how quickly his expression changed. His self-deprecating demeanor vanished as he stood slightly taller and hope shone from his darkening eyes.

“Really?” His voice was deep as he murmured, one eyebrow rising seductively as he spoke.

Carla squeezed her thighs together as she felt herself suddenly becoming uncomfortable and she had to fight the urge to throw her arms around him there and then.

“He can stay if you want him to, baby,” Dyson offered kindly.

She nodded and watched the handsome hunk slide into the seat next to her.

A young lady placed cups of coffee in front of each of them, and a plate of cookies in the middle of the table while the officers shuffled their papers in readiness.

“Thanks Lily.” Dyson smiled at the secretary before turning his attention to Carla. “Carla Burchfield, I have to tell you that, although you are not under arrest, you are required to help us with our enquiries. Do you understand?” Dyson began, staring directly at her from his position at the head of the table. God, he was gorgeous!

“Yes.” Her heart thumped heavily against her ribs and she was sure everyone in the room could hear it. Matt put a soothing hand over hers as Dyson read out some legal gobbledygook she only half listened to then one of the officers opposite them started to speak.

“Miss Burchfield, I’m Sergeant Biggleswade and this is Officer Graves from Sheridan PD. Could you tell us your whereabouts on the night of September seventeenth this year?”

Carla gulped. The sergeant was the older of the two men and had grey hair and a thick bushy moustache. Officer Graves looked a few years younger, although his hair was also graying at the temples. Both looked stern and disarmingly serious as they studied her.

“I was at my yoga class in the community hall and then I went home,” she told him.

“And where exactly is that?”

She gave him the addresses of the hall and the apartment she had shared with Jerome back in Wyoming.

As the sergeant went on to ask questions about her relationship with Jerome, and what she could remember about his friends, Lily, the young secretary, returned with burgers and fries for them all.

Carla couldn’t help but smile as she tucked into her food, and suddenly realized that she was famished again. Doughnuts followed, with more coffee, and she was surprised at how relaxed she felt as she told them all about her life in Sheridan, and what great friends Mr. and Mrs. Roberts had been to her.

“He didn’t deserve this,” she told them. “Mr. Roberts had never hurt anyone in his life. He was a good man. They had no right doing this to him.”

“That’s often the way with armed robbery.” The sergeant nodded ruefully. “The cowards always seem to pick on easy targets, people who can’t usually fend for themselves.”

“He thought he’d be safe as he had the CCTV installed all around the shop, inside and out,” she explained. “He even had a panic button wired up to the sheriff’s office.”

Dyson nodded. “That he did. Unfortunately they yanked the wire out before pulling their knives on him.”

Carla gripped Matt’s hand a little tighter, afraid that she was about to cry.

“So what happened when you came home, Carla? Who was there? What did you hear?” Sergeant Biggleswade continued.

“There was Jerome, Quinn Mason and the Hutchings brothers, Steve and Oliver,” she recalled. “They’d all been drinking. By the time I got back to the apartment, none of them were sober.”

She went on trying to remember exactly what they had said as they bragged about their success.

“Can you recall any actual conversations, Carla? It’s very important.” Officer Graves had been writing everything down and was very particular about the details.

“Not exactly,” she told him, sadly. So much had happened since then that the actual events of the night had somehow become a distant memory—one she was quite happy to forget.

“Carla.” Dyson’s voice was a low growl as he caught her attention and she stared into his dark eyes, hardly daring to breathe. “Did you take the money?”

Time stood still as she gawped into his handsome face. A suffocating silence engulfed the room and both her body and mind felt numb. Dyson continued to stare at her and she willed herself to look away but she couldn’t. Mesmerized by the handsome sheriff, she could only nod her head very slowly.

“It’s okay, darlin’,” Matt whispered into her ear and she felt his warm hand stroke hers.

Eventually she managed to peel her eyes off Dyson to look into Matt’s gorgeous face. Matt wasn’t as serious as his brother, and his eyes twinkled as she stared into them. His face was relaxed as he smiled at her, and she felt herself glow hotter than Hades as tears began to trickle down her cheeks. Matt handed her a large, white handkerchief which she immediately put to good use, turning away from them as she blew her nose, hard.

“Can you tell us where it is?” Dyson’s voice was gentle as the questioning continued and she was relieved. It was clear from his whole manner that he didn’t want to think of her as a thief, but he had a job to do.

She nodded. “In the bank,” she whispered.

Dyson looked surprised and she noticed the shocked murmurs from the police officers opposite. Matt’s hand held hers again as he smiled.

“How much?” Sergeant Biggleswade queried.

She frowned as the thought suddenly crossed her mind. She hadn’t counted it. “I don’t know.” She murmured sadly and half-expected someone to start yelling at her about how stupid she was, but save the voice inside her head, no one did.

“So you took all the money but don’t know how much of it is left in the bank?” Officer Graves was obviously trying to clarify the situation.

She stared over at him in horror. “No.” It was the loudest her voice had been for a while and it even shocked her. “I-I mean yes, I took all the money that was on the table—I assumed that was all of it—and I put it in the bank.”

“Baby, just run that by us one more time, will ya?” Dyson’s voice was more relaxed now, as was his gorgeous body.

Carla took a deep breath, empowered by his friendly tone.

“They were boasting about the money. I think Oliver reckoned there was nearly forty-seven thousand dollars there, but I didn’t see them count it. They must have done that earlier because they sure weren’t capable of counting by the time I got home—they were all smashed. They were trying to do the sums, you know, work out how to split it four ways. They could barely speak properly let alone divide. Anyhow, they fell asleep—probably ’cause of all the booze—leaving the cash in a pile on the coffee table. I scooped it up, put it in a bag and got the hell out of there. I want to give it back to Mr. Roberts—it’s his money.”

“So you didn’t spend any of it? Not even on train fares or hotel rooms?” Officer Graves frowned at her.

She stared at him in surprise. “Of course not. I’ve told you, it’s Mr. Roberts’ money.”

The officers exchanged a look and Matt squeezed her hand.

“Can you tell us the number of the account you paid it into at the bank?” Sergeant Biggleswade asked. He seemed a little more relaxed now, too.

Carla bit the inside of her cheek. “I d-didn’t pay it into an account,” she explained slowly.

Dyson sat forward, his eyebrows raised.

“It’s in a safety deposit box in Almondine,” she went on. “I was trying to figure a way to get it back to Mr. Roberts without anyone knowing where it came from.” She closed her eyes to avoid the looks she imagined she would get from them when they all heard what a dumbass she was.

“So how were you planning to get it back to him?” Sergeant Biggleswade sounded quite sharp and she quickly opened her eyes to see him staring curiously at her.

“I was thinking of sending it but then there was this form I’d have to fill in and I couldn’t put my name and address on or Jerome would get to know where I was and he’d come and…” Her voice sped up as panic crept into it and Matt squeezed her hand gently.

“It’s all right, darlin’.” His tone soothed her like a cold stream on a summer’s day.

She looked up at him gratefully. It was then that she realized she had tears streaming from her eyes once again.

“Well, it couldn’t be in a safer place,” Dyson stated, matter-of-factly.

“And you have the key and documentation to prove this?” Officer Graves queried.

She nodded, pulling the chain from inside her T-shirt to show them.

“Well in that case I suggest we all get some sleep and meet at the bank in Almondine tomorrow morning,” Dyson announced, bunching up the pile of papers in front of him.

“Just a minute,” Sergeant Biggleswade interjected. “What about the claim from Steve Hutchings that she’s an accomplice of Jerome Pearson? They were in on this together. That’s why he’s come here today to join her and split the money. Makes sense to me.” He narrowed his eyes at Carla, who just stared back at him in horror.

“From what we saw earlier in the woods I’d say any claim about them being in this together can be discounted right away. She clearly hates him for stealing the cash in the first place, judging from what we all heard tonight. He took the money from her friend, for fuck’s sake!” Dyson frowned incredulously at the officers.

“I still think she needs to remain in police custody until the morning. We will go to the bank and see if she can verify her story. Then we’ll have a clear picture of what happened here.” Sergeant Biggleswade was tenacious and Carla was surprised to see Dyson tense his jaw.

“We will have the results of the interview with Mr. Pearson by then, too,” Officer Graves pointed out as he placed his papers in a neat pile.

“Until then she needs to be kept under police surveillance. We can’t afford to have her running off again.” Sergeant Biggleswade stood up defiantly.

“Don’t worry, Sergeant. I’ll have her in custody all night.” Dyson stood up too, and shook hands with the two men before they left the room.

Carla felt sick. She had thought it was actually going all right until the last minute. Those two officers still didn’t believe her and Dyson was going to have her locked up for the night. She hated confined spaces at the best of times—but a police cell…?