other tasks.
“Officer Jefferson doesn’t appear to be here tonight,” Mac commented. “I don’t see Simpson either.”
“They should be on shift, though. They’re probably out on a call,” CJ said, and then noted the captain standing in his office door, one hand holding a phone to his ear, the other waving them his way.
“Looks like Dupree is going to take our statements,” CJ commented, gesturing for the men to follow her as she headed for his office.
Captain Dupree was hanging up the phone when CJ led the men in. Scowling when he saw that all four of them were there, he said, “You three boys wait in the bullpen. I’ll take Ms. Cummings’s statement first.”
CJ frowned at the words. Not because he’d said them, but because she should have expected that he’d want to take their statements individually and suggested the men wait in the bullpen rather than having them accompany her. It was a common practice to interview witnesses separately, used to ensure one witness’s statement didn’t influence another’s. She knew that, yet it hadn’t occurred to her until just now. Which told her that her thinking processes weren’t functioning properly yet.
“CJ?”
Her gaze flickered to Mac to see him watching her with concern, and supposed her expression was probably showing her own worry. She didn’t like that her brain wasn’t performing up to par. It was the one thing she’d always been able to count on. People? No. She’d learned years ago never to count on people. Her body? No. It had disappointed her as well. But her brain? That she had always depended on, and the possibility that she maybe shouldn’t right now was extremely distressing to her.
“Will you be all right?” Mac asked quietly. “Do you need more water or—?”
“I’m good,” she assured herself as much as him. She’d hit her head. Of course she wouldn’t be on her game at the moment. But once her headache was completely gone, and she’d had some rest, she’d be fine. She hoped.
“Out,” Dupree said brusquely, shooing the men toward the door. “The sooner you’re out, the sooner she can give her statement, and the sooner you all can get the hell out of my station.” He’d managed to get them to the door by then, and as the men filed out of the room, the captain barked out, “Jamieson! Owens! Brown! Drop what you’re doing and each of you take statements from these boys. They’re the ones involved in the hit-and-run at the Pub and Grill.”
He didn’t wait for a response, but immediately closed the door and turned to cross the room.
“Sit down before you fall down,” Dupree growled as he walked past her to take his seat.
Grimacing, CJ sat down in the chair in front of the man’s desk. She didn’t feel 100 percent and, pathetically enough, the walk in here had actually left her a bit weak-kneed, but surely she didn’t look that bad?
Dropping into his chair, the captain assessed her grimly and said, “You look like hell.”
“Well, that answers that question,” CJ said dryly.
“What question?” Dupree asked with a frown.
“Never mind,” CJ muttered. “Let’s get this over with.”
Dupree eyed her for another moment, and then nodded and opened a drawer to retrieve a tape recorder. Setting it on his desk, he said, “You don’t look in any shape to write it all down, so we’ll record it and have my secretary type it up for you to sign tomorrow.”
CJ was surprised by the man’s thoughtfulness, but merely nodded acquiescence, waited for him to turn on his tape recorder, and then began to list her name, address, and cell phone number. She didn’t wait for him to ask questions after that, but immediately launched into describing the where, when, and how of what had taken place.
“Red?” Captain Dupree barked a couple of moments later, interrupting CJ at the point where she’d turned and spotted the pickup after Bricker’s warning shout.
“Yes. Red,” CJ said, eyeing him with curiosity. It wasn’t the most popular color for a pickup. White seemed to be the top color choice, followed by black and silver. At least that was something she’d concluded on her travels. She passed tons of white pickups every day, a lot of black and silver too, but red pickups seemed much less popular. Which should make it easier to find, she supposed, and wondered if the captain might not already have a candidate in mind. If so, he certainly wasn’t looking pleased about it at the moment.
Running a weary hand