"Thompson." Wilkes stood.
I felt Thompson move in from behind me.
"Does he do all your dirty work, Wilkes? You aren't man enough to abuse an unarmed woman?"
Wilkes hit me a backhanded slap that rocked me against the bed. I tasted blood. I probably could have blocked the slap, but that would have made the second blow harder. Besides, I'd asked for it. I don't mean I deserved it. I mean I preferred Wilkes to Thompson for abuse. I never wanted to be at Thompson's mercy without Wilkes there to rein him in. Thompson wasn't a cop. He was a goon with a badge.
The second blow was a slap, the third was another backhand. The blows were quick and hard and left my ears ringing. I saw spots of light against my vision. The proverbial stars, and he hadn't even closed his fist.
Wilkes stood over me, breathing too hard, hands in fists at his side. That fine trembling was back again, as if he was fighting not to close his fists. We both knew if he did, he wouldn't stop. If he hit me even once with his fist, it would be over. He'd hit me until someone pulled him off. I wasn't a hundred percent sure that there was anyone in the room who would pull him off.
I stared up at him with a trickle of blood at the corner of my mouth. I licked at the blood with my tongue and stared into Wilkes's brown eyes. I saw the abyss down at the end of his gaze. The monster was there, barely caged. I'd underestimated how close to the edge Wilkes was. I knew in that moment that this last warning was just that: a last warning. A last chance, not just for us, but for Wilkes. A last chance for him to walk away without any actual blood on his own lily-white hands.
The deputy by the door said, "Sheriff, we've got over twenty people outside here."
"We can't do this with an audience," Maiden said.
Wilkes kept staring down at me, and I held his gaze. It was almost like we were both afraid to look away, as if even that small movement would uncage the monster. Maybe it wasn't Thompson I should be afraid of.
"Sheriff," Maiden said softly.
"In twenty-four hours," Wilkes said, voice squeezed down until it was almost painful to hear, "we'll file a missing person's report on Chuck and Terry. Then we'll be back, Ms. Blake. We'll be back, and we'll take you in for questioning regarding their disappearance."
"What are you going to write down in the report as to why you thought I might know where they are?"
He went back to staring at me, but at least the fine trembling had stopped.
I kept my voice neutral but said, "I'm sure some of the tree-huggers called the cops last night. But no one came. You're the law in this town, Wilkes. You're all these people have between them and the bad guys. Last night, you didn't come because you thought you knew what was happening. You thought Chuck and Terry had gotten carried away. So you come by this morning to pick up the bodies, but there aren't any bodies."
"You killed them," he said, his voice soft and tight.
I shook my head. "No, I didn't." Which was technically true. I hadn't killed them. I'd killed Chuck but not Terry.
"You're saying you never saw them last night."
"I didn't say that. I just said I didn't kill them."
Wilkes glanced behind at Richard. "The Boy Scout didn't do them."
"Never said he did."
"That little guy you were with, Jason? Schuyler? He couldn't have taken both of them."
"Nope," I said.
"You are pissing me off, Blake. You don't want me angry."
"No, I don't, Sheriff Wilkes. I really don't want you angry. But I am not lying. I did not kill them. I don't know where they are." That at least was totally true. I was beginning to wonder if Terry had ever made it to the hospital, and I was beginning to think he probably hadn't. Did Verne's pack kill him after I promised him we wouldn't? I hoped not.
"I've been a cop for longer than you've been alive, Blake. You make my bullshit meter go off. You're lying to me, and you're good at it."
"I didn't kill your two friends, Sheriff. I don't know where they are now. That's the truth."
He hunkered back down beside me. "This is your last warning, Blake. Get the f**k out of my town, or I am going to drop-kick you into the nearest hole. I've lived here a long time. If I hide a body, it stays hid."
"A lot of people go missing around here?" I asked.
"Missing people are bad for tourism," Wilkes said. He stood. "But it happens. Don't let it happen to you. Get out now, today. If you're not gone by dark, it's over."