wanted to prove I could handle it. Obviously, I was wrong.”
“Next time, you call us,” Buzz said. “There’s a reason we don’t let people close up alone.”
I nodded, knowing that this wouldn’t be an issue, as I wasn’t going to think about closing alone again.
“I stopped by the motel. The clerk said one of the guests, a trucker named John Teague, matched your description. His stuff’s still in his room, but his rig’s gone,” Buzz told me. “He probably just took off. I called the state police, gave them his name and vehicle info. I’m going to need to send them your statement. And I’m going to need to take some pictures of those bruises and your face.”
I nodded, silent. Buzz was exceedingly gentle, asking Evie to take me into the bathroom with his Polaroid and get pictures of my face and neck. It was over in a few minutes. Evie quietly handed the pictures to Buzz, who put them in a sealed black plastic bag.
“A trooper might be stopping by tomorrow to talk to you,” Buzz said. “I can sit in if you want.”
I smiled, grateful.
“I’m going to call Dr. Gordon and have him drive in to the clinic to check you out,” Buzz said.
“I’m fine,” I protested. “Just a couple of scrapes and bruises. There’s no reason to wake him up.”
Evie shook her head. “Mo—”
“I said I’m fine,” I insisted.
Something in my voice must have convinced Evie that I was close to snapping. She sighed and pushed my hair out of my eyes. “I can stay with you tonight if you want.”
“No,” I told her. “Besides, Buzz needs you at home in case he has to brush his teeth or something.”
Laughing now, Buzz made a rude gesture with his bandaged hand.
“Well, take the morning off,” she said. “Believe it or not, we can run the place without you.”
“No, you can’t.” I laughed.
“Yeah, you’re right, we can’t, but take the morning off anyway. We’ll manage.”
“I just want everything to be as normal as possible,” I said. “And that means following my routine and going to work. I can’t let this make me afraid of the saloon. I like working there too much.”
It took another hour to persuade them to leave. I forced myself to take a long shower, to slip into my fluffiest jammies, to drink some chamomile tea. But I still jumped at every little sound. My hands shook as I tried to find a book to read before bed. Every time I passed a window, I looked out into the trees, expecting to see a hulking male shadow outlined against the moonlight. And some part of me hoped for blue-green canine eyes to wink out at me from the darkness.
IT WASN’T NEARLY AS difficult to talk Evie into changing the menu as I thought it would be.
Whether it was residual guilt over my being assaulted on the premises or the power of the almighty chocolate chess square, I was just happy she was open to new ideas. And it gave me something to think about other than the “incident.”
Against Evie’s protests, Buzz and I had decided not to tell anybody about my near-miss in the alley. The menfolk tended to get a little overvigilant when the delicate flowers of Grundy womanhood were threatened, despite the fact that most of those flowers could wield a chain saw with a surgeon’s precision. Still, Buzz didn’t want to cause a panic.
If customers asked about the scrape on my cheek, I told them I tripped on a porch step and took a header onto the ground. Abner and Walt offered to come by and fix the step for me, which made me feel loved but slightly guilty.
When Lynette asked me what happened, I told her Leonard Tremblay forgot our safe word.
Buzz and I managed a discreet meeting with Trooper Brent, a short, squatty bulldog of a man, in the saloon’s office. Trooper Brent was far more worried about whether we had more applesauce cake than about taking my statement. As far as he was concerned, I was unharmed, so there was no foul. I identified John Teague from a photo lineup. When Buzz tried to hand over the pictures of my injuries, Trooper Brent slid the envelope right back to him.
“There’s no need,” Brent said gruffly. “Teague’s truck was found twenty miles outside town. We think he lost control of his rig and rolled off an embankment into a ravine. Nobody saw the wreck, so it was burning for hours before anybody showed up. We’re still waiting for dental records to identify the body, but we’re pretty sure it’s him. And you can’t charge a dead man with assault.”
It seemed as if all of the air had been sucked out of the room. I couldn’t seem to feel anything but the rush of relief flooding through me. The man was dead, and I was glad. Well, not just glad. I was almost dizzy with savage delight that he was dead and that he had probably suffered quite a bit. What the hell was wrong with me? What kind of person would be filled with glee over another person being pinned in a burning vehicle? Maybe the changes I was going through in Grundy were not entirely positive.
What had happened to John Teague? What had happened to the wolf? I found that I cared far more about the wolf’s welfare than about Teague’s.
“Did Teague have any injuries besides what he might have sustained in the wreck?” I asked.
Brent lifted a bushy brown brow, as if he were surprised I knew such big words. Asshole.
“Well, as you can imagine, since the body was burned to the point that we’re relying on dental records to identify him, there wasn’t much left of it. Why do you ask?”
Buzz interjected before I could open my mouth. “Mo punched Teague in the nose in the alley. I think she thinks maybe if the body has a broken nose, it might make it easier to identify.”
I shot Buzz a puzzled glare. He pressed his lips together and sent a significant look toward Brent, who was brushing the crumbs from his third piece of cake off the front of his uniform. Apparently, Buzz didn’t want me to mention anything about the wolf or Teague’s potential claw wounds. I guess losing a short-order cook to an involuntary forty-eight-hour mental-health evaluation would be damned inconvenient.
“Well, honey, he had a couple of broken bones,” Brent said in a condescending tone as he slid a file folder across the desk. “From the truck turning over and all, it was hard to find any bones that weren’t broken. Dental records are a far more reliable way to ID the body. But good for you for giving him a good pop for his troubles.”
I’m sorry, did he just say “for his troubles”? Buzz sensed the growing tension in my arms, the way I was clenching my fists. He patted my hand and shook his head.
“You’re a very lucky young lady. This guy’s a suspect in robberies at diners and dives up and down the highway. He’s put a couple of women in intensive care. He picks a waitress from the pack after closing time, jumps her in a secluded parking lot, and gets her to let him into the safe. And then he . . . Well, you’re not the first one to fight back, but you’re the first one to get away.”
I opened the file folder and lost my grip on it at the sight of a skeletal face, charred black, its teeth bared and open in a never-ending silent scream. My eyelids slammed shut of their own accord. This was so much worse than anything you’d see on the news or TV, because I’d seen the flesh covering those bones, looked into the wasted eyes. Pride was the only thing that kept me glued to my chair, instead of leaning over Buzz’s wastebasket and tossing my pancakes into it.
“What the hell is wrong with you?” Buzz yelled, shoving the folder back at Trooper Brent. “Hasn’t she been through enough? She doesn’t need to see that shit!”
“I thought she’d like to know he’s gone for good,” Trooper Brent said, shrugging. He looked somewhat chastened, as if it had just occurred to him that Buzz might have more loyalty to me than to his fellow law- enforcement officer and testosterone vessel.
“How in the hell is seeing that going to make her feel better? And why haven’t I heard about any of this? I should know if my people are in danger, Scotty. Damn it, I’m the closest thing to law enforcement in town, and I didn’t get so much as a heads-up.”
“Most bars aren’t big on getting all-points updates to protect waitresses,” Brent mumbled.
“Well, this one is,” Buzz shot back, slapping his palm against his desk.
Brent seemed to sense that he’d stepped directly onto Buzz’s bad side now. “Look, he’s gone. Your waitress
