I’d woke up that morning knowing that once wasn’t going to be enough when it came to her. Now we could fool around for a few weeks, get each other out of our systems, and once her parents headed home, go back to our regular lives with itches scratched.
All in all, it wasn’t a bad gig.
I stepped into Nash’s room and found most of the Knockemout PD crowded inside.
“Let me know what you find from the office and the storage unit,” Nash said from the bed. His color was a bit better.
“Sure glad you didn’t kick the bucket, son,” Grave said.
The rest of them nodded their agreement.
“Yeah, yeah. Now get the hell out of here and try to keep Knockemout from unraveling.”
I nodded to each cop as they left, thinking about what Naomi had said about Nash cleaning up the department to better serve the town.
She was right. I guess we both wanted to do right by the town that had given us a place to call home.
“So. How’s Naomi?” Nash asked, sounding only a little irritated after the last officer walked out the door.
“Good,” I said.
Morgan men didn’t kiss and tell or fuck and tell. But I did allow the smallest of smirks.
“You fuck it up yet?”
“You’re hilarious when you’re pumped full of lead and drugs.”
He sighed, and I could tell he was already sick of being cooped up in the hospital.
“What’s with the staff meeting?” I asked.
“Couple of break-ins last night. An office and storage unit. Both owned by Rodney Gibbons. Office wasn’t bad. Someone got the petty cash and riffled through the safe, combination was on a sticky note next to the computer. Storage unit was trashed. No one saw anything at either place,” he explained.
“How long they keeping you?” I asked.
Nash used his thumb to scratch between his eyebrows, a tell of frustration.
“Too fucking long. Said the soonest I can get out is a couple of days. Then it’s PT to see how much mobility I can get back.”
If Nash didn’t get back to 100%, he’d be handcuffed to a desk for the rest of his career. Something even I knew he’d hate.
“Then don’t fuck around,” I advised. “Do what the docs say. Do your PT and get your shit together. No one wants you riding a desk.”
“Yeah. Luce is digging into it,” he said, changing the subject. He didn’t sound happy about it.
“Is he?” I hedged.
“You damn well know he is. It’s police business. I don’t need either of you amateurs out on the streets stirring shit up.”
I was offended by the amateur remark. We’d been professional hell-raisers in our day. And though I might be a little rusty, I had a feeling our friend was even more dangerous now than he’d been at seventeen.
“Your boys get anything on the guy?” I asked.
Nash shook his head. “Stolen car. Wiped clean on the outskirts of Lawlerville. Locals found it about an hour ago.”
“How clean?”
He shrugged, then winced. “Dunno yet. No prints on the wheel or door handles.”