often put in positions where they had to protect Declan. What Joelle had never understood was why Webb had had it in for Declan. And why Declan had never seemed to be able to back down even when Webb was basically assaulting him.
“You got a look at the knife?” Clayton asked, and it took a moment to realize he was talking to her.
Joelle nodded, but when she didn’t say more, Dallas huffed. “If you know whose knife it is, now’s the time to tell me.”
It wasn’t the time. Not with the adrenaline pumping through her and the drug hazing her mind. Still, he had to know. “It’s a hunting knife with a black wood handle. It has one of those hooked tips.”
Clayton and Dallas exchanged glances. “A gut hook,” Dallas supplied. He didn’t add more, but Joelle was certain that he recalled seeing a knife like that.
On Kirby.
His foster father had come to Rocky Creek a lot, and one time he’d taken the boys hunting. Joelle hadn’t gone with them, but she remembered that knife, or one similar to it, in a leather sheath that Kirby had attached to his belt.
“A lot of people have knives like that,” Dallas grumbled. And the silence settled uncomfortably between them.
“Saul’s in the office with Owen,” Clayton said a moment later.
Yet something else to make them uncomfortable. Saul Warner, Dallas’s boss. Joelle had never met the man, but she figured it wasn’t a good sign that the head marshal had been brought in on this. Of course, Owen would have seen to it. This was no doubt the beginning of the end.
Owen would bring Dallas down.
Her, too. And any of Dallas’s foster family he could take with them.
Yes, Owen was guilty of criminal activity, but those charges wouldn’t be nearly as serious as murder—unless they could connect Owen to those gunmen in the woods. Joelle was betting that wouldn’t be easy to prove.
No.
Yet another reason why she had to work on a truce with Owen.
“Joelle needs to go to the hospital,” Dallas said as they reached the edge of town.
“No. Go to the marshals’ office.” Owen already had the jump on them. Heck, he might even be working out some kind of truce with Saul Warner, and she didn’t want to waste any time getting to him.
Dallas frowned. “I’ll call the hospital and have them send a medic to do a blood test.”
Good. Then maybe she could use the results to somehow rein in Owen. It wasn’t as good as an incriminating knife, but it was something.
Clayton drove to the marshal’s headquarters on Main Street and parked in the lot adjacent to the building. It was only when Joelle hurried out of the vehicle that she remembered she was wearing a robe and slippers. Hardly the attire for what would no doubt turn out to be an official interview, but there was no time to change.
A wave of dizziness came over her again as they crossed the parking lot, and like before, Dallas caught her arm. Supporting her. Just as he’d been doing for most of their ordeal. She couldn’t let it continue. It’d be too easy to slip back into old ways and feelings. Best if she kept an emotional and physical distance, and that’s why she moved away from him.
“I haven’t forgotten,” he grumbled. Her gaze flew to his. “About the secret,” he added. “You will explain that to me later.”
No, she wouldn’t. But since it would only cause an argument or make him more suspicious to say that, Joelle kept quiet.
While they made their way up the stairs, Dallas called the hospital and requested a medic. He kept it short and sweet, which was a good thing because the moment they stepped into the marshals’ office, she spotted Owen talking to the lanky fifty-something man.
Marshal Saul Warner.
Another of Dallas’s foster brothers, Harlan McKinney, was there, as well. He, too, gave her an icy welcome, and all three turned toward Dallas, Clayton and her.
“Joelle,” Owen said on a rush of breath. “You’re okay.” He hurried over to her and would have pulled her into his arms if Dallas hadn’t stepped between them.
“She’s okay, no thanks to you,” Dallas challenged.
Joelle couldn’t agree more. She wavered between being outraged that Owen had attempted to hug her and shocked as to why he would, but she tamped down both emotions.
“We have to talk,” she told Owen. “In private.” Groveling was a distinct possibility, but she needed to make sure Owen didn’t blab anything to Marshal