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The police station was quiet, dimly lit, and smelled of stale coffee. Two officers glanced up from their desks as Carmen walked in behind Sawyer and Dan.
“Not a lot of action around these parts,” Sawyer commented under his breath as they walked up to the empty front desk. Dan cast a chastising glance back over his shoulder, and Sawyer clamped his lips shut. Carmen’s stomach turned. The whole thing felt way too much like the time she and Marcy had been caught shoplifting CDs—their one and only foray into crime.
“Dan?” A tall, middle-aged constable stepped out of a back office, brow creasing in surprise at the sight of them. He came forward, extending a hand to Dan. “My apologies, no one told me you were here.” His voice rose at the end of the statement, and he scowled at the two seated officers. The scowl remained on his face when his gaze fell on Sawyer. “Sawyer.” He nodded brusquely.
Sawyer had the good grace to tip his head in a nod, cheeks colouring slightly. “Constable Brown.” It was painfully clear no love was lost between the two men. Dejected and nervous as she was, Carmen’s curiosity bubbled up. There was so much she had yet to learn about Sawyer.
“How can I help you, folks?” Constable Brown asked.
Carmen stepped forward and extended a hand. “I’m Carmen Maclean. I’m here . . . I guess to lodge a complaint. I’m not really sure.” She glanced sideways at Dan.
“The young lady has a man who’s been bothering her, and things have gotten out of hand,” Dan said. “Perhaps we can speak somewhere?”
In a room that scarcely fit the four of them, Carmen told the officer about Billy and the events that had taken place since their last night together. Constable Brown watched her, his gaze never straying from hers as she spoke. By the time Carmen finished, sweat had soaked through the back of her shirt, but she never took her eyes from his.
“I’m sorry to hear you’ve had a tough time, Ms. Maclean.” The constable sat back and folded his arms across his chest. The fluorescent light caught the reflective lettering on his jacket and glinted into Carmen’s eyes. “However, I’m not sure there is much I can do. It’s been close to two weeks since the incident, and you made no report of it. We aren’t in the same city—”
“Henry, sorry to interrupt you, but Carmen isn’t the only one here to file a report on this guy.” Dan slid a CD case across the desk. “Someone smashed up our trucks last night. A hell of a lot of damage. Lucky Sawyer had the cameras installed last year.”
The constable looked across at Sawyer, gave a grunt and accepted the plastic case. Despite her unease, Carmen longed to know the story of the officer’s dislike for Sawyer. It was as clear as the beard on Dan’s face.
“And you know for a fact it was this same person? This, sorry, what was the name?”
“Billy Thompson,” Carmen supplied.
“Right.”
“We will as soon as we watch this.” It was the first time Sawyer had spoken since they had entered the room. “Carmen and I can both identify this guy.”
“So, you’ve seen him, as well?” Officer Brown turned his gaze somewhat reluctantly back to Sawyer.
“Yes, I got a great look at him when he punched me in the face.”
Officer Brown sighed and closed his eyes, rubbing the spot between his brows as if his head were hurting. Most likely, it was. After a moment, he stood and went to a cabinet in the corner.
“Here.” He brought Carmen a pen and a sheet of paper. “Fill this out while Dan and I view the tape.” The two older men stood and made their way to the door before the officer paused. “Speaking of cameras”—he narrowed his eyes in Sawyer’s direction—“they’re in here, as well.”
When the door clicked closed, Carmen turned to Sawyer. “I know this isn’t the time or place, but you are going to tell me what you did to that guy. Got it?” After Sawyer gave her a bashful nod, Carmen turned to the paper and wrote.
****
IT WAS ANOTHER HOUR before they left the station. Sawyer and Carmen gave statements, then identified Billy on the recording from the security cameras. They showed Carmen a freeze-frame of him, the one where his face was the clearest, to be sure. If there had been anything in her stomach to throw up, she would have done so. He was frozen in the frame, poised with the tire iron above his head, about to bring it down on the hood of Sawyer’s truck. His features were so twisted with anger and violence she had to stare at the picture to prove to her disbelieving eyes; it was him.
“Let’s go get some breakfast,” Dan suggested as they stepped out of the station. Carmen blinked and shook her head, bringing herself back into the present. The mid-morning light was harsh and sudden after their lengthy stint indoors. Sawyer started in the café’s direction as soon as they were through the door, but he stopped, holding out a hand behind his back, waiting for her to take it.
“Are you all right?” He locked his fingers through Carmen’s and pulled her to his side, studying her. “You’re pale.”
“I’m just so terribly sorry, and so tired. And seeing Billy on that tape. Knowing what he’s actually capable of—” She shuddered despite the late morning warmth. “I should have listened to you, Sawyer. I think I may have gotten really lucky,” she whispered, belated fear sending another shiver down her spine.
“Well, it’s over now.” Sawyer pressed a kiss to her temple, causing them both to stumble as they walked. “Now we are going to eat bacon. And if it makes you feel better, I’ll tell you the story of why Officer Brown doesn’t like me.” Behind them, Dan let out a snort. Sawyer grinned down at her. “I promise it’s every bit as embarrassing as your beach story.”
Carmen leaned her head against his shoulder as they walked. “That would make me feel better.”
****
“SO, HE LITERALLY CAUGHT you with your pants down?” Carmen snorted so hard ripples creased the surface of the coffee she cradled between her palms.
“With Officer Brown’s daughter,” Dan supplied before turning back to his plate.
Sawyer shook his head, face blazing crimson. “Yes, with his daughter. We weren’t doing . . . well, it wasn’t quite what it looked like. Is there any chance you could just take my word for it?”
“Pfft. No, there is no chance,” said Carmen.
Dan muttered, “What were you doing then?” It was clear from the smirk on his face he already knew the answer.
“She . . . she wanted to watch me . . . No, I can’t say it. Not in front of him.” Sawyer rolled his eyes meaningfully at his father, who was shovelling eggs into his mouth without breathing. “I’ll tell you later.”
“Everyone called him Tighty Whities for the rest of grade ten,” Dan mumbled around a mouthful. Carmen had never heard him sound so happy. “He never let Alice buy his underwear again.”
“Christ, Dad. Thanks.”
Carmen chewed a moment, contemplating. “That seems like a long time to hold a grudge against a kid if you weren’t ‘doing anything’ though, doesn’t it?”
“I didn’t say we weren’t doing anything. We just weren’t doing that.”
Charlotte was serving the table behind them and caught Carmen’s eye with a wink. “Hey, Tighty Whities!” she squealed, wrapping her arms around Sawyer’s neck.
He groaned and dropped his head down to his forearms, taking Charlotte’s small body with him. “It’s all happening again,” he groaned against the table.
“Well”—Carmen reached across and ruffled a hand against the crown of Sawyer’s head—“I, for one, think your butt would look great in tighty whiteys.”
Charlotte and Dan groaned in unison.
“No, I’m serious,” Carmen said with a grin. “Maybe we should ask your mom where to get some.”