Thirty-One and a Half Regrets
Page 40

“Well…” I wasn’t sure how much I wanted to say.
“Mason’s a great guy. He got a raw deal in Little Rock. Who can blame him for beating the shit out of the bastard who killed his sister?”
While I agreed, the edge in his voice made me uncomfortable. Not to mention Mason didn’t go spreading that information around. “He seems to be making the best of the situation.”
“True, but that’s Mason for you. He believes in white knights and chivalry and justice for all.”
“And you don’t, Jeff?”
He shook his head with a chuckle. “Let’s just say I’m a bit more jaded than Mason. I’m a good ten years older, so I’ve been around long enough to lose some of that idealism.”
I wasn’t sure how to answer that, either.
“Like I said, he’s a great guy, but he tends to throw himself whole-heartedly into his projects. And he gets too emotionally involved.”
I bristled. I was sharp enough to know he was insinuating something but I was too tired to play games. “What are you getting at, Chief Deputy Dimler?”
He chuckled again. “Back to formal, huh? There’s no need to act defensive, Rose. We’re both on the same team here. We both want what’s best for Mason.”
“And let me guess, you don’t think I’m what’s best for him?”
He didn’t answer.
“You don’t know anything about me or us.”
“You’re right.” He stopped at a four-way intersection and turned back to look me in the eye. “I don’t know anything about you…besides the fact that you’re a thorn in the Henryetta Police Department’s side. And like I said, I’ve been a friend of Mason’s for months, and he’s never mentioned you other than in professional conversations. It just seems coincidental that you’re in trouble and he’s suddenly taken a shining to you. I can’t help but wonder if his white knight complex has kicked into gear.”
I didn’t owe him an explanation and I considered telling him off, but two things stopped me. One, he was in charge of guarding my life, so it wouldn’t be wise to antagonize him. And two, he really did seem to have Mason’s best interests in mind. Could I fault him for trying to be a good friend? “I can assure you that we’ve been friends for months and we’ve had…feelings for each other for some time.”
“What happened with Joe Simmons?” He studied me in the mirror.
“We broke up over a month ago.”
“So Mason’s your rebound?”
Now I was angry. “It’s none of your business how we define our relationship!”
He pulled the car to the side of the road and looked over the seat, his eyes blazing with anger. “You’re wrong. When my good friend is ready to threaten his career because of a woman he only recently started dating, it becomes my business. What kind of friend would I be if I let him throw everything away without thinkin’ it through?”
I was right. He was right. We were both right. But I was too tired to argue. “I don’t want to talk about it anymore.”
“Rose.” His voice softened. “It’s not personal. I just want to make sure Mason doesn’t get hurt.”
I looked out the window, tears burning behind my eyes.
“He’s gonna try to come stay with you. I’m urgin’ you to make him reconsider. His professional image was already damaged enough by the incident with his sister. We’ll do everything in our power to protect you, but I’m begging you, if you talk to Mason, ask him to stay away.”
My tears broke free, spilling down my cheeks. I wasn’t sure I was strong enough to do that, even if it really was the right thing to do.
“It’s obvious you care about him,” the deputy said, softly. “So just think about what I said.” He turned around and started driving again.
My head tingled and I cringed, knowing a vision was right around the corner. I closed my eyes, and suddenly I was in the sheriff’s office. Mason was standing in front of me, angrier than I’d ever seen him. “You have no right to keep her location from me, Jeff! This is my life, not yours!”
I squared my shoulders, resting my hand on my gun. “I did what I thought was right. Hopefully, you’ll understand and thank me for it later.”
The vision faded and the back of the deputy’s head came into view. “You’re gonna have an argument with Mason.”
The deputy sighed loudly. “I suspect you’re right about that one.”
Did the vision mean I should I tell Mason to stay away or not? I wasn’t sure I’d even get the chance to talk to him.
We drove the rest of the way in silence except for a short phone call he took, during which he did a lot of grunting and didn’t sound very happy, but he pulled a U-turn and headed the opposite direction.
“Is there a problem?” I asked.
“Nothing that won’t be straightened out soon enough,” he responded with a frown.
His answer wasn’t exactly reassuring. I had no idea where we were going other than south of Henryetta until we stopped in the parking lot of a rundown motel in Pickle Junction, a small town known for its annual pickle festival and not much else. The motel looked like it had seen its hey-day back in the sixties and seventies, when the festival had been in its zenith. Now the establishment needed a new paint job and roof and, judging from the empty parking lot, a few customers. No wonder they picked this place. The deputy turned off the engine and turned to look at me. “I’m going to leave you here with an officer. Trust me.”