the middle of town. Maybe someone ran him off the road and then robbed him? It fit the evidence. But why not tell them of the crime? Submissiveness didn’t suit him, but he could be disoriented. He had a bump on the head. People often forgot events leading up to an accident. Maybe he was hurt more than the EMT was able to determine.
Time for a conversation with JD.
* * *
Thump. Thump. Pain pounded relentlessly through his head. Keeping his eyes closed helped marginally. Plus when he opened them there were only gray walls and cell bars to look at.
Man, he’d messed up big, to be laid out in a jail cell with a throbbing head.
Thump. Thump.
Problem was he couldn’t remember what he’d done. The squat cop claimed he’d been drinking, but he had it wrong. He wouldn’t feel as if he’d tangled with a semi if he had any alcohol in his system. His right shoulder and leg throbbed in time with his head.
At least he had the cell to himself.
Thump. Thump.
He wasn’t even sure what map pin he inhabited. If only his head would clear, he was sure it would all come back. Then he’d get out of here and be on his way. Yep, as soon as his head got with the program, he’d explain things to the squat cop and then he’d be gone.
Thump. Thump.
The cell door clanked. He squeezed an eye open, spied the lady cop. He remembered her. The attitude. The uniform. The pretty blue eyes.
“How are you feeling?” she asked in a much friendlier voice than when he arrived.
“Like I was hit by a truck.”
“Is that what happened?”
Thump! Thump! Suddenly his head hurt worse. Have mercy, he didn’t think it possible. Couldn’t people just leave him alone?
“I thought I was here because I was intoxicated.”
“You denied drinking.”
He had no answer for that. He’d jump on it if he thought she’d let him go, except he wasn’t ready to move.
“You were walking when the officer came across you.”
“It’s not against the law to walk.”
“No. But it’s uncommon for tourists to arrive by foot.”
He didn’t respond. It hadn’t been a question, after all. The low, husky timbre of her voice might be soothing if not for the interrogation.
“What do you drive?”
Drive? His brows drew together. Hadn’t she just said he was walking?
“You were wearing a leather jacket and chaps. Where’s your motorcycle?”
Thump! Thump!
He lifted his arm to lay it across his forehead. He gnashed his teeth at the show of weakness, but he had the desperate need to hold his head on, like if he didn’t brace it in place it might explode.
“Are you okay?” Her voice hovered right above him and he smelled the freshness of peaches. She’d obviously moved closer.
“Can we do this another time? My head hurts.”
“I’m going to check your wound,” she warned him, the warm breath of her words blowing over his forearm. “It’s possible you’re hurt worse than we originally thought. This may hurt.”
Her body heat warmed him as she loomed close. He shivered. With the pain racking him, he hadn’t noticed how chilled he’d grown.
Thump! Thump! Sharp pain shot across his head.
“Ouch.” He flinched away from her probing, all thoughts of the cold chased away.
“I’m sorry.” She softly ran her fingers through his hair.
Yes. That felt good. He leaned toward the soothing touch.
“I need you to move your arm. I’m going to check your pupils.” She suited action to words and he suffered the agony of a flashlight scorching his retinas.
“Irregular pupils. You have a concussion. I think we need to get you to the hospital,” she declared.
“I’d be fine if you’d leave me alone.” He dismissed her claim, waved off her hand. “I just need to rest here for a while.”
“It’s not up for discussion,” she stated simply. “I’m obligated to see to your care. It’s up to you whether we go in my cruiser or I call for an ambulance.”
“I’m not riding in any cryptmobile.”
“Then we need to get you on your feet.”
“I think I’ll just lay here for a while.” Just for a bit, until he could breathe without pain and the room stopped spinning.
“I can’t allow that. You have a concussion. You’re disoriented. You need to be seen by a doctor. It’s department policy.”
“Well then.” She wanted to disrupt him, ratchet up the pain, all to meet department policy? Right. He had fifty pounds on her. He wasn’t going anywhere.
“How did you get hurt?”
Thump.
“Where’s your motorcycle? Your wallet?”
Thump, thump.
“What’s your name?”
Thump! Thump! Thump!
“Will you stop? Your talking hurts my head.” So a few details were missing. It would come back once the pounding stopped.
“That doesn’t really reassure me. Tell you what, if you stand up, look me in the eyes and tell me your first name, I’ll consider leaving you alone.”
“I don’t want to stand up.” Why wouldn’t she just go away?
“Don’t want to? Or can’t?”
The taunt brought renewed pain as he frowned. He put his arm back on his head. Nice as her touch was, her insistence undid any good her soothing brought. Her goal, no doubt. It would take more than pride to drag him to his feet tonight. Possibly a crane would do it.
“Look, I’m not interested, okay? You’re a beautiful woman, but I’m injured here.”
“I’m not hitting on you.” Outrage sent her voice up an octave. “I’m concerned.”
“Are you sure? I’ve never had a cop run their fingers through my hair before.”
