Page 29 of Hostile Witness

“Not really. He approached me from behind—came up alongside my window and blinded me with his flashlight even though it was daytime.” She closed her eyes and paused a moment. “I guess I did get a brief look. It was when he walked around the car screaming how Flynn had bitten him and I needed to subdue my dog. At one point, he smashed his hand down on the hood of the car.” She turned around, set her elbows on the counter, and rubbed her forehead. “All I can remember about his looks is that he’s tall and has a sharp nose. His hat covered most of his features, and he wore sunglasses. The mirrored kind.”

That was something. “Did you notice if he was overweight, had a paunchy gut?”

“No, he wasn’t heavyset. He was kind of like you but not as built.”

A surprise jolt of lust coursed through his abs. “You think I’m built?”

She laughed. “He didn’t have a broad chest and big arms like you do. He definitely wasn’t as muscular as you.”

“You’ve noticed my muscles?” He couldn’t resist pushing the issue a little.

Tia rolled her eyes. “Stop fishing for compliments. You know you have muscles. It’s obvious you work out.”

“I stay in shape for my job, but I had no idea you were looking.”

“I’m not blind, just keeping my distance.”

Ethan soaked a few more cotton balls and kept dabbing. “And why is that?” Ooh, he was playing with fire now.

She sighed deep and long. “A year ago, I was in a very dark place, and I’m not going back there. Besides, you’ve probably heard all about it at the precinct since you’ve been there a year.”

“Haven’t heard a peep.”

“Well, that’s unusual for gossip central, but encouraging. Maybe it’s all behind me.” She shivered. “Are you almost done? I’m freezing, and I should check Flynn.”

He disinfected the final two cuts. “All done. Flynn’s got three broken claws and flinched when I touched his snout.”

She slid off the kitchen stool. “Poor thing. I tried so hard to keep him from the window, but the baton clipped him a couple of times in spite of my efforts.”

“Now that we know you’re okay, we should get him to the vet.”

“Yeah. I’ll go change and call Bayside to see if we can come in.” She wheeled around. “I can go myself. You probably need to get back to work anyway.”

After a weird incident like this, she wasn’t getting rid of him easily. “I’m the dog daddy, remember? I’ll go with you. We’ll use my truck. I’ll arrange for forensics to dust the hood of your car for fingerprints. You said the cop placed his hand on it.”

“Yes, that’s right.” She got halfway up the stairs and leaned over the banister. “Do I need to go to the precinct and give a statement?”

He whistled for Flynn and thought a second. “No. I’ll take your statement here.” Her relief was damn near palpable as she continued up the stairs. One of these days he would find out what had happened to her and why the precinct and interviews were such touchy subjects.

The house was quiet when she returned downstairs. “Ethan, when they come to dust the car, please, no police lights. My neighbors will be full of questions tomorrow if there’s a big scene.”

Yeah, well, she only had two neighbors this time of year, but he’d keep that info to himself for the time being. “You wouldn’t happen to have a floodlight to illuminate your driveway?”

She nodded. “It’s got an automatic sensor. I’ll set it on the constant mode.” Tia grabbed her purse and locked the door on their way out.

Flynn limped in discomfort, and Ethan picked him up and carried him to the back seat of the truck. As they pulled away, he turned to Tia. “You said you gave the cop your license and registration. We should dust them for prints as well. Maybe later I’ll run them to the station.”

Tia gave him a deer-in-headlights kind of look. “Would you mind turning on the inside light?” Methodically rummaging through her purse, she murmured, “I never got them back. Oh no... that cop guy still has them.”

Ethan nodded slowly and turned onto Route 90. “No problem.” But hey, it was a huge complication because now, the guy had her address.

19

Vince shoved his swollen, aching hand into an ice bucket and cursed. What were the odds? What were the odds of him stopping, of all the people in this sleepy county, that one redheaded lady cop on a country road? And what were the odds that she’d have Plante’s dog in tow?

He should’ve killed that thing the same day he’d taken care of the lieutenant. That damn animal had spooked him ever since his first cadet interview. It had been hard enough sitting there in the big office with Plante at the huge desk and him in the little chair while the dog lay right by the window watching his every move.

When Plante asked about his father’s name being Jim Beam, that freakin’ dog sat up and growled. Plante gave the animal some kind of hand signal, and he lay down again, but the K9 watched everything like a beast eyeing a raw steak on a countertop. That creature gave him the willies. He hated Margie Plante and her pity, but he hated that dog more. His world would be a safer place once he got rid of it.