Grace shook her head. “I’m fine.”
“You don’t look fine,” Mary told her, handing her the clean shirt Mitch had brought. “But you will be.”
A few minutes later, Grace opened the door and nearly tripped over Mary. “You didn’t have to wait.”
“It was either me or your father,” Mary said.
“Thanks,” she said and meant it, feeling another knot of tension loosen. “I guess I could use a cup of tea after all.”
“I’ll just ask your father to run across the street to my shop for the bottle.”
“Bottle?” Grace had no idea what she was talking about.
“A splash of the Irish in a hot cup of tea will set you to rights,” Mary promised. “You’ll see.”
Winding their way around the tables, Mary called out, “Joseph!”
Her father’s grim expression softened when his gaze met Grace’s and he started walking toward them. “You punched him good, baby girl.”
Grace smiled. “He didn’t start bleeding right away, though,” she told him.
Joe’s mouth twitched as he fought to keep a straight face. “All of my girls know how to throw a solid punch,” he told Mary. “Taught them myself.”
Mary tut-tutted and made shooing motions at Joe. “Gracie needs me to fix her up with a special cup of tea.”
His eyes softened as understanding flowed between them. “Be right back.”
“Such a dear man.” Mary sighed.
Her father returned with the bottle and let Mary doctor Grace’s tea while his daughter gave the bloody shirt to Mitch.
A fan of TV crime dramas, Grace wasn’t surprised that Mitch didn’t handle the shirt, merely holding open a Ziploc bag that Peggy had given to him to be used as an evidence bag.
“I’ll need to call Pat to get his blood type.”
“Is that really necessary?” She hadn’t planned on talking to Pat until this evening.
“He’s got the kind of job where bleeding is part of the territory. If you’d rather call him and explain why you need to know, that’s fine with me as long as you call him right now.”
What should she do? She didn’t want to interrupt him on the job. He needed to focus in order to save lives and keep himself and his fellow firefighters safe.
“Can’t you call his lieutenant and explain why you want to know?” Grace asked Mitch. “I don’t want Patrick to be distracted on the job.”
Mitch nodded at the wisdom of her request. “I’ll have Cindy put the call through to dispatch and handle it that way.” He paused in the doorway. “If I were you,” he said, “I’d either call the man or send him a text message.”
With that threat left hanging in the air, Kate settled next to Grace in the booth and picked up Grace’s mug, taking a sip and then promptly choking on the sip. “What’s in there?”
Grace grinned. “Mary fixed it for me.”
Kate rolled her eyes. “Tastes like my grandmother’s cure-all.”
Peggy was laughing when she poured another round of coffee for the people still hanging around the diner waiting to hear the latest update on Grace’s attacker.
Grace was surprised when her father walked over and handed her his cell phone. “It’s for you.”
“Who’d call me on your phone when I have my own…” Her voice trailed off. “I guess it’s still in my car.”
Her father’s gaze held hers for a moment. “Cindy must have already gotten through to the Newark Fire Department. Patrick needs to talk to you.”
“Your words,” she asked, “or his?”
“Both,” her father bit out, shoving the phone into her hands. “Talk to the man.”
Grace wasn’t ready for Patrick to be worried about her safety. Funny how relationships unfold, she thought. Getting to know one another physically first, then the intimate details of what’s in your head and your heart.
“Grace?” The deep voice had her concentration shifting to matters closer at hand.
“Hey. Sorry, my phone’s in the car and I didn’t have a chance to—”
“Are you all right? Where are you hurt? Did they catch the bastard yet?”
Patrick’s quickly fired questions left her feeling a bit shaky as the moment of panic in the alleyway washed over her.
“Grace?” he pleaded. “Talk to me.”
“I’m sorry, I got blood on your shirt, but you’ll get it back all cleaned up after Mitch is through with it.”
“I don’t care about my shirt—did you say blood?” She could hear the click as he swallowed. “I’ll be there in a half hour,” he ground out.
“It’s not mine,” she said, “and it’s at least a forty-five-minute drive from Newark.”
“He hurt you,” Patrick rasped.
“Peggy and Doc Gannon patched me up. Mary Murphy is plying me with spiked hot tea. You need to stay at work; people are counting on you.”
“It’s been quiet,” he told her. “We’ve been catching up on cleaning the rig and the firehouse.”
“I’m sure that won’t last all day,” she said. “Trust me to know that I’m OK and that you shouldn’t worry.”
When he didn’t answer her, she motioned for her father to come back over. “Pop, please tell Patrick that I really am fine and that he doesn’t need to drive all the way over here to see for himself.”
Her father talked to Patrick for a few minutes before disconnecting. Grace was about to thank him when her father told her to sit still. “Smile, damn it.”
She laughed and her father took a picture. “So that’s how you’re convincing him not to leave work?”
His nod of agreement actually eased one of the knots in her belly. “He’ll be picking you up at seven o’clock.”
“But, Pop…”
Her father shook his head and told her to deal with it. “The man cares about you. Let him.”
“So,” Kate said when her father and Mary left the diner, “what’s up for the rest of the day?”
Grace got to her feet, surprised that her knees weren’t quite as painful as she thought they’d be. “I’ve got tons of work next door. I’d better get moving.”
“Come back for lunch,” Kate urged.
“Only if you can eat lunch with me,” Grace told her friend. “It’s no fun if I’m eating and you’re working.”
“Lunchtime is our busiest time,” Kate protested.
Grace put her hands on her hips. “Breakfast is.”
Peggy poured another round of coffee for some stragglers. “It’s always busy here.”
“Fine, I’ll come over and you can take five minutes to eat a chicken salad sandwich with me.”
“Fine,” Kate answered.
“Good,” Grace said.
“Bye.” Kate’s eyes sparkled with laughter, but Grace refused to let her friend have the last word.
“Be back later.”
Before Kate could say anything else, Grace rushed through the door and onto the sidewalk. She had just reached the now-open front door to Mulcahys when a voice called out, “Don’t be late.”
They were both laughing as they headed back to work. Grace decided that the best way to put thoughts of the alley out of her head was to dive right back in where she left off yesterday. Rolling up the sleeves of Mitch’s worn work shirt, she started with the first stack of boxes she’d moved yesterday, vowing to make a dent in the filing.
Grace wondered how she’d ever thought working at Mulcahys was dull. It was so diverse. How could she have thought it boring? While she worked, she compared her job in the city with the one she was doing right now, admitting—if only to herself—that she preferred what she was doing now. By the time she’d fielded a dozen or so phone calls from concerned friends and neighbors, her father walked in and asked, “Did you eat yet?”
“What time is it?” She hadn’t stopped for a break since she’d left the diner.
“One thirty.”
“Time flies.”
“Helps to be busy doing something you e
njoy.”
She suspected her father was hoping Grace’s love for tackling big projects and reorganizing things would keep her coming back long after her vacation ended. “Did you have time for a cup of coffee after lunch?”
“Now what makes you think I ate already?”
“You’re not all grumpy and grumbling,” Grace said, stifling her laughter. “A sure sign.”
“Hmphf,” Joe snorted. “All three of my girls have such smart mouths.”
Grace gave in and chuckled. “Just like our Pop.” He held the door and then closed and locked it behind her. “I’m coming right back.”
“You’re going to eat with Kate, remember?”
“That won’t take that long,” she began, wondering at the dark look on her father’s face. “What’s happened?”
He drew in a deep breath. “I’ll let Kate tell you.”
It was then that she noticed he was sticking close. Something was definitely up.
Walking in through the open door, the scent of coffee, burgers, and fries almost had her going for the comfort food instead of the healthier chicken salad.
“Grace.” Kate looked worn out and hadn’t earlier.
“Busy afternoon?”
Kate shrugged and Joe went over to the counter to speak to Peggy, but whatever he and Peggy were talking about was discussed in hushed tones.
“All right,” Grace said, taking her friend by the arm and leading her to the farthest table in the back of the diner. “What’s going on?”
Kate sank onto the vinyl bench and Grace’s worry doubled as she watched the way her friend nearly folded herself in half, bracing an arm across her stomach. “Brian caught up with the man from the alley.”
Grace noticed Kate was using Deputy Jones’s first name. Interesting. “Since when is he Brian?”
Kate glared at her. “Would you please focus on what is important?”
“I like him,” Grace said. “Your mom does too.”
When it became clear that Kate had said all that she intended to, Grace slid in beside her friend and nudged Kate with her elbow. “Talk.”
Kate sighed. “You know how Brian likes to off-road in his truck?”
Grace smiled. “When he was young and reckless, he always said the quickest way to get where you’re headed is a straight line, whether it’s through a cornfield or a stream.”
Kate’s eyes lost the desolate look as she agreed. “Well, that’s what he did.”
“Where?”
Kate gripped her hands together and Grace felt the tension return. “He saw the car Charlie and Tommy described up ahead and cut through the north corner of Mr. Parrish’s cornfield. He ran the guy off the road right before it intersects with Cherry Valley Road.”
Grace’s eyes widened. “Mr. Parrish is going to be pissed.”
Kate snorted. “Good thing it wasn’t my daddy’s field.”
Grace’s hands flew to her mouth to keep from bursting out laughing.
Kate nodded. “He’s carried a shotgun filled with birdshot ever since that time Steve and Nick went joy riding through our cornfield.”
“Fifteen years is a long time to carry a grudge.”
Kate rolled her eyes. “Not according to my dad.”
“So isn’t it good news that the caught the guy? And why didn’t Mitch ask me to come down and identify him?”
Kate reached for her hand and squeezed it. “I was delivering lunch to Honey B. when Brian got back. It was him.”
Fear scraped Grace’s gut raw. “Him who?”
A tear slipped past Kate’s guard and Grace knew that it had been the same man who’d assaulted her friend the other night. “Did he walk into the police station under his own power?”
Kate sniffed in her tears and wiped her eyes. “Yes, but he had two black eyes and a broken nose—oh wait,” Kate said. “You did that to him.”
Satisfaction filled Grace. “And I’d do it again.”
Kate sniffed loudly and Grace put her arm around her. “Don’t cry, Katy-did,” she urged.
Kate rested her head on Grace’s shoulder and sighed. “Brian is one of the good guys.”
Thoughtful, Grace waited a few minutes before she asked, “Is that why you won’t date him?”
Kate’s head shot up and she glared at Grace. “Fat lot you know.”
Grace crossed her arms in front of her and glared back. “Our deputy isn’t a loser.”
“I never said he was,” Kate said. “Hey!” Kate shot to her feet. “Are you saying I only date losers?”
Grace did the same. “If the shoe fits.”
“Will you two shut up?” Peggy hissed. “You’re causing a scene and scaring away the customers.”
“They’ll be back with reinforcements to watch us argue,” Kate grumbled. “Good for business.”
“Whatever you were arguing about, finish it,” Peggy demanded.
“You should go talk to him,” Grace said.
“Why bother?” Kate wanted to know.
“Because he’s still stuck on you,” Peggy added.
Kate whirled around to stare at her sister. “I thought you didn’t know what we were arguing about.”
Peggy grinned. “Lucky guess. Take your break now,” she told her sister. “Mitch just called. He wants to talk to both of you.”
“But I’m hungry,” Kate protested.
“I’ll have two burgers, medium rare; a basket of fries, well done; and two root beer floats waiting. Now get going.”
Kate looked at Grace and frowned. “I don’t just date losers.”
Grace frowned back. “Then ask him to drive you home tonight.”
“But—”
“Please?” Grace asked. “Do it because you’re my best friend and I want you to be as happy as I am.”
“Are you?” Kate asked. “You haven’t been seeing him all that long.”
“Sometimes,” Grace whispered, “you just know.”
As they wended their way around the tables, Kate tapped Grace on the back. Grace looked over her shoulder. “What?”
“If I ask Brian to take the long way home, will you tell me something wicked about Patrick?”
Grace shook her head at her friend. When they were almost to the sheriff’s office, she whispered, “His stamina is amazing and the things he can do with his mouth are probably against the law in Ohio.”
Kate grabbed ahold of Grace’s arm and put a hand to her heart. Eyes wide, she whispered back, “Fib or truth?”
Grace made an X over her heart. “God’s honest.”
Kate squared her shoulders. “Thanks,” she said. “I needed that.”
Grace hoped that Kate didn’t shoot herself in the foot where Deputy Jones was concerned. Brian tended to be a Boy Scout where Kate was concerned. Maybe it was because he usually happened to be nearby whenever one of Kate’s loser boyfriends took a swing at her or left her stranded.
Mitch’s dispatcher, Cindy, greeted them as they walked in. “Good,” she said. “You’re both here. Mitch is in the back with the prisoner right now, getting him settled.”
Grace wondered how she would react seeing the man from the alley again, but the way Kate started breathing the moment they stepped inside had her more worried that her friend would hyperventilate.
“Sit down, Kate.” She pushed her friend into the nearest chair and helped Kate cup her hands in front of her mouth and nose. “Cindy, do you have a paper bag?”
Mitch’s dispatcher for a number of years, Cindy, was prepared for anything. She reached into the bottom drawer of her desk and whipped one out, handing it to Grace. Kate had lost that wild look in her eyes by the time Grace had coaxed her to hold the bag over her mouth and nose in place of her hands.
“That’s it, nice and slow, in and out.”
Cindy handed Kate a cup of water while Grace kept an eye on her friend. Kate hadn’t had a panic attack in years, at least not that Grace knew of. Kate was staring down the hallway to Mitch’s office and Grace had an uneasy feeling she k
new what was bothering her friend.
“Did you tell Mitch the whole story?”
“What?”
Grace sighed and told Cindy, “We’re just going to take a quick walk outside.”
They walked in silence, circling the brick building twice before Kate spoke. “I told him enough. It’s not my fault they couldn’t find Jim—but it is my fault that Jim attacked you too.”
Grace’s gut clenched as one ugly possibility entered her thoughts. More worried about her friend’s state of health than her own, Grace grabbed ahold of Kate’s hand. “It is not your fault. You had no control of that bastard’s actions. But I need to know, did you go to the ER and get checked out?”
While she waited for Kate to answer, she looked up and noticed Deputy Jones frozen by the back door. From the look on his face, he’d heard Grace’s question and was waiting for Kate’s answer. She met his gaze before looking back at her friend.
“Kate, answer my damn question. Did you go to the ER and did they do a rape kit?”
“No.”
Grace hoped that Brian wouldn’t make any sudden moves. “Katy-did, you know that I love you dearly, right?”
Kate nodded as she stared out over the fields separating the sheriff’s office and the high school. “Sisters of the heart,” Kate whispered.
“We tell each other things we wouldn’t tell anyone else.” Grace prayed that Kate would still be speaking to her if she found out that Grace knew they had an audience. “So tell me why you didn’t go to the ER.”
Grace waited, hoping the less she said, the more Kate would want to tell her.
“I didn’t need to. Things didn’t get that far. But I got tired of being pushed around by loser guys,” Kate confessed. “I kneed him as hard as I could. I surprised him.”
“So you got out of the car, but how did you outrun him?”
“I didn’t.” Kate chuckled. “I outclimbed him.”
Grace sensed that Deputy Jones had heard all he needed and would either slip away or call out to them. “One of the pine trees by that old farmer’s wall?”
“Yep. He tried to follow me, but I’m lighter and don’t care about pine pitch getting on my hands.”
“That’s what baby oil’s for,” Grace said.
Welcome Back to Apple Grove Page 19
