In the Arms of Stone Angels - By Jordan Dane Page 0,31

the emergency, but he hadn’t been alone. Sheriff Matt Logan got a personal call, telling him all about it. He’d rushed to the scene, listening for any updates on his radio as he drove.

By the time he got there, he hadn’t missed much.

In a wash of spiraling cop lights, he saw Brenna Nash on the side of the road. He’d arrived in time to see Deputy Tate wrap a blanket around her shoulders. She’d been found wandering down a farm road on the outskirts of town—without a stitch of clothes on. She looked drunk. And from what he could tell, she might have even resisted arrest, too.

When he got close enough, he smelled alcohol. The kid was really messed up, in more ways than one.

“What happened to your face?” he asked her. The sheriff knew his deputy had nothing to do with how she looked, but someone had beaten her. Or maybe she’d done it herself. He wouldn’t put that past a kid like Brenna Nash.

She stood there and didn’t answer him, clinging to the blanket around her shoulders with her lips quivering. Her reaction had come from her fear of getting caught rather than any real likelihood of her being cold. The heat lingered this time of year in Oklahoma, even in the early morning. The girl looked like a deranged lunatic and she could barely stand without leaning on something. It didn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out she was really drunk.

He pulled his deputy aside and spoke only loud enough for him to hear. “You give her a Breathalyzer yet?”

“No, not yet. I only got here a little before you did.”

“Get that done before you take her in. And I don’t care if she refuses to take it. Do whatever it takes, you hear me?”

“Yes, sir.”

“And did she resist arrest in any way?”

Deputy Tate shrugged. “Not really. She tried to run, but that didn’t last long. She was more scared than anything else.”

“In my book, that’s resisting, Tate. We need to take a firm hand with this kid. She’s real trouble. You weren’t here two years ago when she was involved in that killing. You don’t know her like I do.” He shook his head. “You gotta trust me on this one.”

“But, sir…”

“Why are you arguing with me, Deputy, when I know what I’m talking about?”

He knew his deputy was trying to do the right thing, but he didn’t know Brenna Nash.

“Because that kid is scared,” Tate argued. “You didn’t see her when I first drove up. I’d bet money she’s a victim. And I don’t think it’s right that we make things worse for her.”

His nephew’s call to his cell had triggered a reaction in him, especially after he’d found out that the Nash girl was involved. And Derek had told him plenty. Matt had made up his mind what he wanted to do before he even got to the scene.

“But there’s something you don’t know. I got a reliable tip that she brought this on herself. She took two deadbeats to a party with her and they had booze.” He saw he was persuading the deputy when Tate couldn’t look him in the eye. “I’m telling you, this kid is messed up. Even cold sober, her judgment is impaired. And we need to teach her a lesson.”

“Lesson? What are you talking about?”

“When you get back to the station, book her like she was under arrest and toss her in jail. She needs to know that she was breaking the law. Cooling her heels in a jail cell for public intoxication and disturbing the peace might get her attention. And her useless mother will have to pay to get her out. Trust me, Will. For God’s sake, trust me, boy.”

The deputy quit arguing and got back to business. By the time the sheriff saw her again, the Nash kid was leaning against Tate’s patrol car and she was crying. She looked a wreck. He had a boy and a girl of his own in college, but thank the good Lord neither of them had turned out like this.

“What’s up with your hair? That some new punk style?” He didn’t keep up with what kids did these days, but her hair had been hacked to shreds. And she still didn’t say anything or look him in the eye.

Taking a special interest in the 911 complaint, Sheriff Logan hadn’t been exactly surprised to find this girl in the thick of it. His nephew had called him personally