Chapter 13

Bethany froze in shock as Conall went down, only to bounce back up again, his leg kicking out hard and fast, dropping the smirking Jake, kicking the gun free to skitter across the floor, as every other man in room the raced toward Jake. Bethany couldn't believe Jake had shot Conall. As soon as Jake was subdued, she raced over to Conall. "Are you okay?" she cried out.

He nodded. "I'm fine, no thanks to this punk." He looked over at Henry. "What now? You still think Jake should be let off? What'll it take to get your attention?"

Henry's hand was over his mouth, as he stared at the remnants of his faith in his son. "Dear God, what the hell happened to him?"

"What happened is his belief that he is untouchable," Bethany explained, looking over at Henry. "The belief that his daddy will get him out of everything, supported by the knowledge that you always have."

Henry shook his head, as he stared at her. "What did I do that was so wrong? I was just trying to protect my son, to give him a better life."

"But what you did was create a monster, with no accountability for his actions," she whispered.

Even now Jake glared at the sheriff, who struggled to restrain him.

"It's not like you can fucking contain me," Jake yelled. "Dad, you want to call him off?"

Jake's bored tone had his father gawking at him in horror. "Call him off? You just shot somebody in the police station," he cried out. "Not only is that absolutely insane, it's the stupidest location you could possibly have thought of."

Bethany turned and glared at him. "Shit like that is what you're doing wrong."

"What?" Henry asked.

"You basically just told Jake that it was okay to do what he did but next time choose a better location."

"No, I didn't mean it that way," Henry replied, staring at her, then looking back at his son. "Obviously it's stupid to shoot anybody."

But Jake was laughing. "That's okay, Dad. I got the right message." He glared at the others. "Obviously the cripple's not hurt, so no repercussions are needed here," Jake declared, shrugging the men off, trying to restrain him.

They let him go, even as she watched in surprise. "Why are you not locking him up?" she asked, turning to the sheriff.

The sheriff motioned to another room. "Put him in the interrogation room. Things are obviously very heated now."

She stared. "Did you say, very heated? Jake just shot Conall right in front of you."

"Settle down," the sheriff snapped at her. "Obviously this is a spurious accusation."

Greg stepped forward, and, in an overly calm voice, he asked, "Spurious accusation? Sheriff, are you suggesting that there weren't a half-dozen witnesses to Jake's attempted murder?"

The sheriff winced. "Okay, okay, so maybe that wasn't the right choice of words," he clarified in an uncertain tone. "Everybody just calm down. This is my office, and I'll handle this how I see fit."

Greg stared at him for a moment, then shook his head. "No, Sheriff. You'll handle it by the law, or you'll be out of a job. And possibly facing charges of your own."

In the ensuing silence, the sheriff just stared at him.

Greg smiled. "Sheriff, do you really think that people from my division come here on the basis of one problem?" As the sheriff began to turn pale, Greg continued. "Do you think other people in this county haven't made complaints because you weren't doing anything about this? Now that I've seen it for myself, it's far worse than we imagined."

Bethany turned and looked at Conall, still amazed that he was unhurt. "How did he miss at that range?"

He gave her half a laugh. "While it was a piss-poor shot, it's not that he missed as much as he hit my prosthetic. Kat will be pretty upset." He bent down and lifted his pant leg for her to see the hole.

She stared at it in shock. "So, it hit you?"

"He did hit me," he confirmed, "and you can bet that will be on the report."

"He said he missed."

"Jake thought he missed, and honestly it could have been a good shot because I don't know whether this will impact the workability of my joint or not," he shared, frowning, as he stared down at his prosthetic.

"I'm so sorry," she whispered. "I never intended for that to happen."

Conall shook his head. "It has nothing to do with you. This is not your fault."

She gave him a sad gaze. "Yes, it is."

"No, it's not," he repeated, staring at her. "You can't let bullies like him keep running the town, and you know that as well as I do. I was just the right person at the right time to lend a hand."

"But what happens when you leave?" she asked, looking around. "You know that the sheriff will buckle, as will Henry, and Jake will be out on the streets in no time, and I'll become the next target."

"I think Greg will be changing Jake's location to a different holding facility. Plus I'm not planning on leaving anytime soon," Conall shared. "Besides, we still have another pair of hoodlums to deal with."

She winced. "Melanie and Page, Michael's nephew."

He nodded. "That won't be easy either. You know that."

"I do know," she admitted. "I was hoping we could just get a pass." The words had no sooner left her mouth, when Greg came over.

He bent closer to Conall and asked in a low voice, "How badly damaged is your prosthetic?"

"I don't know for sure," he admitted, shaking his head. "It just pisses me off that he did it in the first place."

"Do you think it was on purpose?" Greg asked.

Conall snorted, then shrugged. "I wouldn't be at all surprised. Jake will believe that it isn't important, but I think he's more directed in his actions than we think."

"What'll be the end result here?" Bethany asked.

Greg replied, "Monetary damages are due to Conall, besides the threat of death. The sheriff can't let that go," Greg explained. "So it'll be interesting to see what he says, but I'm staying here to make sure that this gets handled appropriately."

She nodded.

Henry was still trying to absorb what had happened to his life and to his son.

She walked over and spoke to Henry. "At this point, you should consider it a kindness to let him face his own consequences to make him grow up now. If he continues on this path, he'll get himself killed."

He looked up at her. "I don't even know how to stop him at this point," he shared, his tone low. "I understand what you mean, but nobody here will shoot him."

"He already held a gun to me and has now shot Conall once. Do you expect a man like Conall to take it lying down, should your son try it again?"

He stared at her, then looked back at Conall and winced. "Unfortunately he does look like the kind of man to do the job."

"He could, particularly if I was attacked again," she pointed out. "There are very few things in life that these men will fight for so strongly, but women getting beaten up is definitely one of them."

Henry sighed and nodded. "As it should be." He looked back at the son he'd raised on his own. "You spend all that time raising them, thinking that you're doing a good job. And sure, I stepped in and protected him a couple times, but I didn't realize what that was doing to him."

"It gave him free rein," she said softly, "and he's taken full advantage of it."

"Which I don't even know what to do with," he said, staring at her in despair. "He's my only child."

"If you want him to survive, he needs to grow up, and he needs to grow up fast," she stated. "Honestly I don't have any sympathy for him. If he continues pulling guns on people, it won't end well. He'll wind up in prison for life, or worse, and, while I would be sad for you and for the simple waste of human life gone bad, I can't say I would feel badly for Jake because, frankly, he deserves whatever he gets at this point. I'm happy he's on the warpath right now in front of you and the authorities, and I'm hoping you let Jake think about it in jail, and you don't bail him out."

Henry winced. "Bail is something that every criminal gets," he argued, "so, of course, I'll bail him out."

"But you also know that he will likely break bond and come after me and Conall."

He stared at her. "You could always leave town."

"So, we're supposed to leave town?… How does that make sense? I run a veterinarian business," she stated, staring at him. "So I'm supposed to give up everything so that your hoodlum son doesn't get into more trouble, is that it?"

His shoulders sagged, and he whispered, "Before today that would have definitely been it, so I guess that's where the problem started."

"That's exactly where the problem started," she declared, shaking her head. "I have a right to my life too, not to just be caught up in Jake's moods whenever he takes a notion to cause chaos and to steal and to abuse women."

"Has he really been going to the cafe and taking whatever he wants?"

She nodded. "Usually a burger, coffee, some pies, anything he can get away with, never too big, never such that it's massive, and all he's taking is meals. But it's just getting worse all the time, like he's escalating, as are his threats," she explained. "We had no idea he had a weapon, but now that he does or did," she stated, "that's even more troublesome."

Henry sighed, raising both hands. "We have lots of weapons at home, so, even if he doesn't get this one back, he'll just go to the gun cabinet and get another."

She stared at him, her stomach sinking. "Thanks for that," she spat. "I'm sure I won't sleep again."

He looked at her and frowned. "I'm sorry he hit you."

"Yeah, but will you be sorry when he tries to kill me?" she asked bluntly. "Because I think you're still looking to protect your son."

"That's just it. He is my son." Henry stared at her. "How come you don't understand that?"

"I guess because I would like to think that my life or the lives of the others he threatens have some value too. But, to you, it seems absolutely nothing else is of value, except your son, and that's sad, Henry. It's sad because other people in this world have a right to a good life, without being terrorized by Jake and his goons, and you can't see that. That's where the problem is. You must realize that Jake and his hoodlum friends are running people out of town, that the town itself is dying because of Jake?"

Henry hesitated, shaking his head.

"So, here's hoping your son doesn't get released on bail," she stated, tossing him a look. "And maybe, just maybe, that way he won't get himself killed or wind up in prison."

"I heard that," Jake roared from the other room. "Don't you talk to my dad like that."

"Yeah? Or what?" she asked from the doorway. "Will you come after me again? Will you shoot me now?"

"I just might," he threatened in a hard voice. "You don't get to treat him like that."

"Right, you guys are both messed up in the head," she muttered, as she walked closer to Conall. "Can we leave now?"

He looked over at the sheriff. "I'm sure the sheriff would be more than happy if we disappeared. You ready to go?"

"I was ready to go before we even got here," she muttered, as she glanced over at Greg. "We'll head back to my place, if you need us. We're tired and worn out, and this has definitely screwed up my emotions."

Greg nodded. "Just stay safe, please."

She froze at that. "Is Jake likely to get out?"

"If he makes bail, yes." Greg waved his hands about. "There's a lot of paperwork to handle first, but I can't stop him from getting bail."

"Even if he's a danger to somebody else?"

"There's no judge in town, and that's often one of the reasons to let them go home and stay, at least until the judge shows up. In this case, it shouldn't happen, since Jake's fired a weapon in the sheriff's office for all to see. He should be locked up and the key thrown away, but you and I both know it won't go that way."

"You can't stop it?" Bethany asked in horror.

"The question is whether I should stop it," he replied, looking over at her, "or do I need the sheriff to hang himself a little more by releasing Jake?"

She thought about that and nodded. "I guess, in the end, that would probably be the better idea,… but that doesn't mean I like it."

"Of course not," Greg agreed, with a smile, "but you will have Conall with you though."

"Yes," she muttered, "but he also took a bullet in that joint. He's not even sure if the joint will work, and that's something else to consider."

He nodded. "I'll stop by in a little bit, if you want."

She looked down at her watch and said, "Make it tomorrow. I need to get some sleep in a big way."

"Got it." Greg smiled. "If it's not very late, I'll send you guys a text to confirm everything is okay with you."

And, with that, she walked over to Conall. "Come on. Let's go home."

"Where's home?" he asked, looking at her with interest. "That could be over at Michael's, or it could be at your place."

"It needs to be at my place," she stated, shaking her head. "I won't sleep if I'm alone there tonight."

"Ah." He nodded. "That is a very valid point, but it kind of sucks though. This is what we're down to, isn't it?"

"It more than kind of sucks," she said, with a headshake. "I just can't believe this is what I'm expected to believe is justice."

"It's not justice," Conall agreed, "not in any way. And justice will definitely move slowly in this case because there will be hindrances at every turn."

"Right, but surely Henry would want Jake locked up so he stays safe?"

"That might be an answer for some fathers, but for this one and a lot of others like him? It's likely a big no. I expect Jake to be out on bail in no time."

"Well, damn it," she muttered in frustration. As she got outside, she looked over at his truck and asked, "Are you okay to drive?"

He laughed. "I'm totally okay to drive, though I do need to contact Kat and see if she can give me some advice on that joint, whether it's anything to worry about. The issue would be if it seized up suddenly, and I have no control over that."

"I don't like the sound of that," she replied, looking down at his prosthetic. "You need that leg."

"I sure do," he agreed cheerfully, as he walked over to his vehicle. "Yet I've been without it before."

She stopped, frowned at him, and asked, "That's why you're also so good to Michael, isn't it? Because you understand what it's like be in a wheelchair."

"I sure do," he admitted. "You don't get to this stage of recovery, not without having been through Michael's stage."

"Could he ever walk again?"

"I don't know," he replied, with a shrug. "I haven't looked into it and don't know anything about his injuries, but I've seen some amazing things happen."

"That would sure make a huge difference to his frame of mind."

"It would certainly make him feel a lot less of a victim, but the reality is that not everybody has enough body part left to put prosthetics on."

"Maybe it's something you can talk to him about."

He chuckled. "I see what's happening here. We are helping Michael now too, aren't we?"

She shrugged and gave him a cheeky grin. "Hey, I'm just picking up on your style. It's not as if you didn't have that going on already."

"Maybe." He smiled. "And we could both do a whole lot worse than reaching out and helping others. It used to be more of a world where everyone helped their neighbors—not like this, where they toss each other to the wolves."

"It seems like that was a long time ago," she muttered, as she stared at him, "but I would really like to think it was possible to go back to something like that."

He nodded. "It doesn't mean that it always has to be so ugly," he pointed out. "The world could very well return to doing better."

"Maybe," she muttered. "Not to change the subject, but I could use a piece of pie. How about you?"

He frowned at her. "Where do we get pie at this hour? I thought you told me how the town shuts down early."

"It's not that late," she clarified, checking her watch. "Besides, Joe's Diner is open, so we could go there."

"Ah, your mom."

"Yeah, my mom. Absolutely." She shared the directions to get over there.

"We're just having pie?" he asked.

"That's all I want, but suit yourself," she replied. "I just want to see a face I know and love, who knows and loves me," she murmured. "It's been kind of a rough day."

"A rough couple of days actually," he stated, with a nod. "Have you heard anything more from Mel's mother?"

Bethany shook her head. "No, and that's another thing that'll be rough to deal with," she muttered. "Kassie was always really lenient, but Mel's dad was always really strict, so I think we may have another issue here, not like Jake's situation at all, but where Mel has one parent who's got no discipline and the other with so much discipline. Mel couldn't wait to get out of that household."

"From what Michael had said about his sister, I doubt Page got much discipline either. Yet I don't think either case warrants the reactions that both Mel and Page have had."

"I agree," Bethany added, "though it does make me a little worried about having kids."

He nodded. "I'm with you there, not that it's likely to ever happen in my case."

"Why not?" she asked. "Don't you want any, or can't you have any?" She glanced down at the leg as she spoke, wondering if she had gone too far.

"As far as I know, I can. I just don't have a partner willing to have a family with me—or any partner at the moment," he shared, with a smile.

"Right.… Neither do I," she muttered, a little abashed. "It's been a long time since I even had a decent relationship."

"Ditto, and, when someone is broken and busted up, like Michael and me, it makes relationships particularly hard to start and even harder to explain, when questions about the injuries arise."

"Are there more injuries than what I can see?" she asked, twisting in the front seat to look at him, "because you don't look terribly damaged to me. Oh, God, I'm so sorry. That sounded so trite and insensitive. I should just shut up."

"You're fine. I am actually happy to see that you are willing to have a candid conversation about it. So, aside from the physical damage, there'll always be a certain level of psychological damage," he shared. "Sometimes I wake up in the middle of the night. The PTSD takes hold, and my nightmares? Well, they can get a little scary. However, for the most part, therapy and rehab has taken care of the worst of it."

"I would say it's taken care of way more than the worst of it," she replied. "You look beyond well-adjusted."

He laughed. "And that is a complete fib."

She grinned. "Okay, fine. So I exaggerated a bit."

He smiled at her. "That's just because you want to see all the good things in people."

"Sure. I do want to see the good in people and the good happening for them. I've seen so much of the crappy side of life that I really want to believe the good stuff is out there."

"And there is," he stated, with that same smile.

"Absolutely there is." She pointed up ahead as they approached the edge of the town limits. "Around the next block is the cafe."

He followed her directions and pulled up outside. "Do you want to text them and let them know it's us?"

"No need. They're still open."

As they went in, Bethany looked around and found nobody here. She frowned and called out, "Mom, are you here?" When no answer came, Bethany called out, "Joe?"

When still no answer came, she looked over at Conall in alarm, and they both raced through the main part of the restaurant, which was completely empty, and into the back, where the kitchen was. They found her mom, sitting on the floor, sobbing, as she cradled Joe's head. She looked up as they arrived and started to sob harder.

Bethany cried out, "I'm calling 9-1-1."

Conall nodded. "What happened?" Conall asked, as he crouched beside Rosalind, checking Joe for a pulse, "He's still alive."

"No, no, he's gone," Rosalind replied, bawling hard. Bethany now sat on the floor, next to her mom, holding her.

"No, he's not," Conall clarified. "Let's lay him flat, so he can breathe.… Easy now. I can feel a pulse." Rosalind stared at him in shock, as if finally hearing Conall. "He's lost an awful lot of blood." He looked to Bethany. "See if you can get the story out of her."

But Bethany had already called for an ambulance, so her mom bolted to her feet and raced outside. Bethany raced after her. "Mom, what's going on? Where are you going?"

"After them," she roared.

"After who?"

"Those stupid kids."

"Hang on a minute. Are we talking about the same punks as before? Jake and his cronies?"

"No, no, not them, the others. She works for you,… the one you used to babysit," Rosalind cried out. "How could she do this to us?"

"Wait. Are you talking about Melanie?"

Her mother turned and looked at her. "Yes, that stupid smart-mouthed girl. She was here with some guy, who I don't even know."

"Ah, crap,… and she shot Joe?"

"No, he shot Joe. Good-for-nothing kids. Joe wouldn't give him free food and declared he didn't need more freeloaders around here. And they just shot him. He just up and shot him. It caught him low in the gut, and he went down like a huge log," she cried out. "I mean, he's a big man. I couldn't believe it."

"How long ago was this?" Bethany asked.

"Just a few minutes," her mom whispered. "I thought he was dead. He didn't answer me, and it didn't seem like he was breathing."

"He's not dead, and, if anybody can help him, Conall can," she said, taking her mother in her arms. "Did you see where they went?"

"No, they just bolted out back. That kid mentioned something about you, but I didn't understand it."

"Can you tell me exactly what he said?"

"No, not exactly, it all happened so fast, you know? It was just a slam, something about mother and daughter, both bitches."

"Of course," she muttered. "It seems he's unraveling very quickly."

"Is that what you call it?" she asked, sobbing harder. "What has happened to this town? It used to be such a lovely place to live, and now we just want to sell this place and go."

"That might not be a bad idea," Bethany agreed, then realized she should make another call. She quickly dialed the number that Greg had given her. When he answered, he sounded busy.

"We're still not done here."

"You may not be done there, but the other nightmare in our world, the young couple,… Melanie and Michael's nephew, Page,… they have shot my mother's partner over here at the restaurant. We've called for an ambulance, but I'm not certain Joe will make it." At that, her mother sobbed anew. "He's been gut shot, and he's down. He's a big man, and he's lost a lot of blood. Conall is doing what he can."

"We're on the way," Greg stated. "Do you know what happened to the shooter?"

"They took off out the back. Just a second." She turned to look at her mother. "Mom, listen to me. Did they have a vehicle?"

Rosalind nodded. "Yes, they did. I heard it noisily tear off, but I don't know what it was. I didn't see it. I was on the floor with Joe."

"They initially stole Michael's vehicle. Oh, wait. Did they take Joe's truck? I didn't see his truck in the lot."

Her mom stared at Bethany. "I don't know," her mom whispered, "maybe."

Bethany spoke to Greg on the other line now, hearing him in a moving vehicle now. "I'm checking to see if Joe's truck is here. That may be the one they've stolen." She raced around the corner. "I can't see it anywhere, so it's very possible that's what they're in." She quickly gave him the make, model, and color details. "I don't know the license plate," she shared, then turned back to look at her mother, who shook her head. "Yeah, you'll have to look it up. My mom doesn't know it either, but she's pretty rattled."

"It's okay. We can get it," Greg replied. "Any reason your mom didn't call the sheriff's office?"

"Yeah, nobody here believes in the authorities anymore. Plus my mother was in shock and thought Joe was dead, but Conall found a pulse. Mom might have called 9-1-1 if anybody else had been here. I did call for an ambulance and assumed that should get the deputies rolling as well, but I doubt it right now. I guess you can decide."

"Conall?" Greg asked.

"He's inside with Joe. I can tell you that Conall's itching to get Joe headed to a hospital. Then Conall wants to go on a hunt."

"Of course he does." Greg sighed. "See if you can cage him a little bit."

She could hardly control herself. "I would like to let loose the animal inside him," she snapped. "We've taken so much shit, and this won't end well. I'm damn tired of looking after other people's kids and trying to keep them from screwing up their whole lives, but, at the rate Page and Mel are going, along with that bully Jake, they may not survive the week."

"I know. Try to stay calm though," Greg added. "I hear you. I'm just glad your mom didn't get shot."

"Oh my God, I didn't even ask if she was hurt. Shit, just get here fast, will you?" She hung up and turned to look at her mother. "Are you hurt at all? Did he shoot you?"

Her mom frowned, then shook her head. "No, no, he didn't shoot me.… That damn kid just laughed when he shot Joe."

"Of course he did." Bethany groaned. "There's just no end to the punk-ass pieces of shit in this world, is there?"

"I don't know what Joe ever did to him," she whispered, "but the damn kid wanted free food. He told us how he had heard from a friend that you could get all kinds of free food here, and he was hungry. And Joe?… That was the last straw, and he just lost it."

"I can totally understand that."

"Joe was like, Hell no, we've had enough of punks like you coming in here looking for free food, so forget it. Honestly I told him how we should just give it to them, but Joe didn't listen." She started to sob all over again. "We're not making ends meet here, and we can't keep giving everything away."

"Of course not, and you shouldn't have to. Better to close the doors than have these kids treat you like that."

Her mom sobbed harder and nodded. "That's what I told Joe, but he wanted to sell the business first. That way we could leave and get a start somewhere else. Yet how do we sell a business that's failing because of these punks?" she asked. "We couldn't put that on anybody else."

She winced for her mother's sake, as Bethany thought about everything they'd been through. "I'm so sorry," she whispered.

"It's not your fault, honey. I'm just sorry that we stayed in this town. We should have gotten out of here a long time ago."

"Maybe we still can," she muttered.

"What about you? You've already invested so much in your business. Your clinic is doing so well…"

"It has, but if I need to shut it down and move somewhere else?… Well, that'll be a huge expense, but if it needs to happen, it needs to happen," she whispered. "Besides, this can't keep happening. I don't want to turn around one day and find out you've been shot, just trying to defend your restaurant."

"Yet that's exactly what happened tonight," she stated, as she turned back toward the building. "I need to go see Joe," she muttered, getting frantic again.

Immediately Bethany led her mom back inside. As soon as she took one look at Conall, she knew it was bad. "The ambulance is on the way, and so is Greg."

He nodded. "Good, I need some assistance."

Bethany studied Joe, frowned, then spoke to her mom. "I need something to make a tourniquet out of, Mom. Joe's got way-too-much bleeding, and he took a second bullet in the leg."

"I didn't realize that." Conall gave her a shake of his head.

"His leg too?" her mom asked, frozen in place.

"Holy shit," Bethany muttered. "Yeah, Mom, get me,… I don't care, a strap, a belt, a tie, something. I've got to slow the bleeding."

Her mom raced to the far side of the kitchen and came back with some zap straps.

"Okay, good." Conall quickly made a tourniquet, and almost immediately the blood underneath Joe's leg started to slow down.

Then Bethany jumped into action. "It's okay, Mom. I need you to sit down." Bethany did a full check on Joe, as Conall watched her.

"I should have had you do that to begin with," Conall admitted. "You would have caught it earlier."

"Doesn't matter. I was distracted too." She waved a hand about. "I should have done a lot of things differently today. I haven't been acting my best," she shared, with a headshake. "It's been a very long day, and my brain's not clear, but it's clearing up quickly now."

"Good, that will help, and hopefully we'll get through this."

She smiled at him through a sheen of tears. "I hope so. I don't know what the hell I would have done with all this shit if you hadn't been here to help me."

"You're doing just fine," he replied.

She checked Joe over again. "We need to keep him breathing and be prepared to jump into CPR, if his heart stops. Yet he's a tough one." In the distance, she heard the ambulance, and, with a wave of relief, she announced, "I'll bring them back here."

She raced outside as they pulled in, and, within seconds, she had them working on Joe. Ten minutes later, Joe was hooked up to oxygen, various monitors, and an IV. He was rolled out of the restaurant on the gurney and into the back of the ambulance.

Her mom already sat there in the jump seat, waiting. Bethany looked over at her. "I'll meet you at the hospital soon."

Her mother nodded, barely acknowledging her, as she focused her attention on Joe.

"They're really an item, aren't they?" Conall asked.

"They have been for years," Bethany said, her tears spilling over now. "She's a good person, but a lot of people look down on her." She shook her head. "Small towns can be hard, and a lot of people don't appreciate the fact that she's with a black man."

"I know that you are committed to your business here, but is there any chance you want to relocate?"

"I was just talking to Mom about that very thing. I don't want her staying here, not if this is the kind of treatment she's constantly dealing with."

"No, of course not," he muttered. He pulled her up close and kissed her on the temple. "I'm sorry."

"Me too," she murmured, as she wrapped her arms around him. She tilted her head up to face him and smiled. "Have I told you yet how much I appreciate the fact that you came to town to find Bacchus?"

Conall chuckled. "No,not in so many words,… but it's definitely been a little more difficult here than just finding a lost War Dog. I'll give you that."

"It sure has been," she muttered. "Yeah, it's been quite the ride. I need some sleep, but I've got to head down to the hospital to be with my mom."

He nodded. "Let's go grab some food, and we'll take it to the hospital."

She looked around the café and frowned. "I better clean up this mess first. I don't want her coming back to this."

"No, you can't," he told her, reaching out a hand to stop her. "The authorities need to gather forensics evidence first."

She groaned. "I should have known that. Sorry. I'll just have to come back and do it later."

"We'll both come back," he stated. "It's not terrible, but someone will come in here and take a look for the record."

"Do you really think anybody will?"

"Yes," he stated. "If nothing else, Greg will get photos and look for any evidence, and he'll definitely bring a team down."

"Fine," she muttered. "I'm too tired to argue."

"Let's go get some food," he suggested. "We can't get it here because the deputies will be here soon."

She smiled. I've done my fair share of cooking in this kitchen," she muttered, as she stared around at it, "but maybe it is time they made a change."

"Chances are it's time," he declared firmly, "but first things first. Let's get you some fuel, before you run out of gas and drop."

"I know. I know."

Just then came a yell from Greg out front. He walked into the back and shared, "Just passed the ambulance on the way."

She nodded grimly. "Joe's in pretty rough shape. We found a second gunshot wound in his leg."

He shook his head. "And your mom was sure who it was?"

Bethany nodded. "Yes, it was my ex-employee, Melanie, and her boyfriend, Page, who is Michael's nephew."

"Jeez," Greg muttered, "you would think they wouldn't be so stupid as that."

"We better warn Michael that they're still in town," Conall said suddenly.

She stared at him and winced. "Yes, that definitely needs to happen too, but I also need to get to the hospital."

Conall looked over at Greg. "I'll leave this to you. Did you bring the locals along?"

"I did," he replied, with a nod. "A couple of them are on the way, and we'll handle this." Looking at Bethany, he repeated, "And we will handle it. I promise. Then I'll get over to the hospital as soon as I can."

She nodded. "You handle this. I'm heading to the hospital now." She looked over at Conall. "And you need to go check on Michael."

"Got it," he agreed. "Let's go. I'll take you to the hospital first and will come by later, and we'll grab your wheels, so that you're not stuck here." He eyed her intently, still seeing some shock on her face. "Your car's still at your apartment because we came together in my truck to the sheriff's office."

"Right. I can't think straight yet. Plus I'm supposed to be at the clinic tomorrow," she muttered, "but I'm exhausted, and my mom needs me too."

"Can't you close the clinic and maybe reschedule those appointments?" Conall suggested.

"Yeah, some of it anyway," she muttered, "but first I need to check on Mom and Joe."

They waved to Greg, and after arriving at the hospital, Conall let Bethany out. Then he headed over to see Michael.

He drove into the driveway and then stopped because he saw shadows through curtain to the living room window, and somebody was inside, but it wasn't Danny or his mother. Her car was gone.

Opening the door to his truck, he hopped out, still wondering about damage to his leg but not having the time to do a thorough check. Walking up to the front door, he wished he was armed, since he still couldn't see who was inside. When he rang the doorbell, he got no answer, though it was also pretty late.

He called out. "Michael, it's me." But again he got no answer. There had been a light on inside and an obvious shadow seen, which meant somebody was home just one minute ago. That didn't mean it was the right somebody though. He pushed open the door and stepped inside, coming face-to-face with a very pissed-off Page, pointing a gun at him, which by Conall's count was the third time today. And three times was too many, as far as he was concerned.