The Trouble With Murder (36 page)

“Hey, don’t let her go,” I said,
getting to my feet, a wary eye on the woman. “Not until I’m long gone.”

Frye looked me over. “She do that
to you?”

I was almost afraid to know what
the damage had been. From what I could see, there was blood on my jeans and
shirt, and my shirt was torn. My left cheek and the side of my neck burned
where her nails had clawed me, and they felt sticky with blood. The chunks of
hair that had come loose from my ponytail were stuck in it.

“Yeah.”

“You need an ambulance?”

“No. I’m fine.”

“Better take your skip and go then.
We’ll stay with her until EMS gets here.”

I didn’t wait around to be told
twice.

“Thanks. Appreciate it.”

I went to Dennison, grabbed an arm
and his belt, and pulled him to his feet. The burning pain bloomed in my
shoulder again, and I winced.

“Should you be working?” Frye
asked, having seen my face.

“It’s been six weeks. The doctor
released me.” Technically a true statement. Technically.

“He know this is what you’re
doing?”

No. That was the rub. But I had sat
around for as long as I was able.

“I’m fine,” I said. “Good to see
you, Frye.” I looked at the other guy. “What’s your name?”

“Brooks. Jason Brooks. I just
started a few weeks ago. I’ll probably see you around.” He grinned again,
amused.

“Right. Well, Brooks, tread
lightly.”

Confusion pinched his eyebrows
together. He glanced at Frye, who gave a small nod.

I steered Dennison out the door and
off the porch.