The sheriff could clearly see the empty seats and floorboards through the windows, but he still opened the door to make sure, taking off his hat, peering inside like he might catch Lena hiding under the center console. He walked around to the back of the car and popped the trunk. Except for Sara's first-aid kit and a couple of grocery bags to be recycled at the store, it was empty.

Valentine slammed the trunk closed. He told Jeffrey, 'Guess I'd look like an even bigger jackass if I put out an APB on a fugitive wanted for "failure to show identification."'

'That's a fair assumption.' The sheriff was already on thin ice with the charges he'd trumped up against Lena. He had to tread carefully now. They both knew that any mistakes he made at this point could end up ruining whatever case he might eventually build against her.

'Well.' Valentine glanced around the parking lot. 'That's Darla's Jeep. The red Chevy belongs to the maintenance crew, the Bronco is George's, and that's Bitty's Ranger over in the corner; she's been here since Thursday when she drove herself in with a pain in her side and it turned out to be appendicitis.'

He had accounted for all the cars in the lot, but Jeffrey had to ask, 'Where's your cruiser?'

Valentine laughed, but not out of amusement.

'Don's got his best fishing pole in the trunk, so that was his first concern. Both our cars are out back. We're getting staff downstairs to check their lockers, see if anything is missing. I had somebody go over to Hank's to see if she shows up there.' He tossed the key back to Jeffrey. 'I reckon between your wife wasting my time and you jacking me around in the hallway, she could have up to a twenty-minute head start on me.'

Jeffrey wasn't going to argue the finer points, such as Valentine pulling some kind of power move by making them all go into the linen closet. 'At least.'

'Lemme ask you something. Does it bother you that you just aided an escape?'

His tone had turned nasty in the blink of an eye. Jeffrey pushed away from the car, answering, 'Not much.'

'That's how you old cops work, isn't it?' Valentine was obviously furious. 'Always stick together, no matter what laws you break. Gotta protect the brotherhood, huh?' His voice got louder with each word. 'I wouldn't be surprised if you and oP Don hatched this one up together. Pull your dirty tricks to make the new guy look like a fool.'

Jeffrey warned, 'You wanna be real careful what you say to me, Jake.'

'I could arrest her,' Valentine said, gesturing to Sara with an angry wave of his hand. 'I should arrest her.'

He had Jeffrey's full attention now. 'We both know that's not gonna happen.'

'Yeah? Well, this is.' Valentine swung his fist -literally. His arm flew out roundhouse style instead of punching straight from his shoulder. This gave

Jeffrey plenty of time to block the hit and slam his fist into the other man's gut. A whoosh of air came from Valentine's mouth as he doubled over. He would've fallen to his knees if Jeffrey hadn't caught him.

'God,' the sheriff groaned, clutching his stomach. 'Jesus…'

Sara stood from the bench. Jeffrey shook his head, telling her to stay put. He told Valentine, 'Stand up straight.'

Valentine struggled, his knees not working.

Jeffrey pulled him up by his collar until the other man was looking at him. 'Just breathe,' he said, feeling like he was talking to a child. 'It'll pass.'

'Let go of me.' Valentine pushed Jeffrey away, but he still sagged against the car for support. 'Goddamn, you're stronger than you look.'

Jeffrey held out his hand to Sara, letting her know it was okay. 'Where'd you learn to swing like that?'

'I grew up with four older sisters,' he managed. Which explained why he hit like a girl. 'Dammit. I shouldn't have done that. I shouldn't have hit you.'

Jeffrey didn't point out that the man hadn't actually managed to hit him. He changed his position to stand between Valentine and Sara, telling the man, 'Listen real careful, Jake. I already warned you once. You ever threaten with my wife again and I will beat you into the ground. We clear on that?'

Valentine coughed, then nodded.

'Can you stand up?'

'I think so.'

Jeffrey waited for him to move away from the car.

'I'm sorry,' Valentine told him. 'I've got a short fuse.'

'No shit.'

The sheriff asked, 'You gonna tell me if she contacts you?'

Jeffrey was caught short by the question, which would explain the truthful answer he gave. 'I don't know.'

Valentine stared at him, then nodded again. 'Thanks for being honest.'

Jeffrey watched Valentine stumble toward the front doors. The glass slid open and he went inside. Sara was still standing by the bench, and Jeffrey motioned her over.

'What was that about?' she asked.

'I'll explain later. Let's get out of here.'

He made to open her door, but she said, 'I've got it,' and climbed in.

Jeffrey was walking around to the driver's side when a white sedan sped through the parking lot and screeched to a halt in the empty space next to him. Seconds later, a burly, bald man got out of the car. He was wearing a flannel shirt with the sleeves ripped off and a pair of jeans that looked splattered with oil. A heavy metal chain went from the front of his pants to his back. On his left hip was one of the largest hunting knives Jeffrey had ever seen.

While Jeffrey watched, the man took out the knife and placed it on the car seat, obviously knowing he wasn't allowed to bring the weapon into the hospital. Not that he looked as if he needed the weapon. If Jeffrey had to guess, he would say the guy weighed well over two hundred fifty pounds and that most of that was muscle.

The sedan shook when he slammed the door.

Deep scratches cut across his face as if he'd gotten into a fight with a tiger and lost. He stared at Jeffrey, challenging, 'What the fuck you lookin' at?'

Jeffrey pushed back his jacket, put his hand on his hip. His gun was tucked under the front seat of Sara's car, but the con didn't know that. 'Don't make this a problem.'

'Fuck you with your fucking problem,' the man barked, heading toward the ER.

Through the glass doors, Jeffrey saw Jake Valentine leaning over the desk, talking to the receptionist. They both looked up when the man entered the waiting room. Valentine glanced at Jeffrey, but the sheriff was too far away to read his expression. He said something to the thug, holding out his hand, palm down, as if to calm him. Words were exchanged, then the man turned around and stalked back out. As he passed Jeffrey, he muttered, 'Cocksucker,' but Jeffrey wasn't sure who was being insulted.

Valentine came out of the hospital as the white car backed up, jumped the curb, and sped off.

Jeffrey glanced into the car, checking on Sara. He asked Valentine, 'Friend of yours?'

'Local drug dealer who wanted to see one of his boys,' Valentine explained. I told him to come back during visiting hours.'

Jeffrey gave him a close look, wondering if the man was lying. The exchange had looked a bit more heated than a denied visiting request, but then again the knife-carrying thug didn't strike Jeffrey as someone who liked to be told no.

'Here,' Jeffrey said, reaching into his back pocket and pulling out a couple of business cards. He wrote something on the back of the top card, then

thumbed to the next one to give to the sheriff. 'My cell number is on the bottom. Call me if you find my detective.'

Valentine gave the card a wary glance before taking it.

Jeffrey pocketed the rest of the cards. He got into the BMW and pulled out of the parking lot. Neither he nor Sara had much to say as he followed the route they had taken into town. Valentine was wrong about the twenty-minute lead. Jeffrey figured Lena had fifteen, tops. He asked the questions that the sheriff was probably asking himself right now: Where would Lena go? Who could she turn to?