High Noon

help myself.”
    “If that’s some sort of ultimatum—”
    “It’s not, not at all. It’s just fact.” Sitting on the coffee table across from her, he took the peas she’d lowered, turned the bag over, and put the cooler side against her swollen jaw. “I already know it was a cop, and one you had to slap back for something. I expect I could have a name inside an hour. But you have a week to do it your way.”
    “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