We All Sleep Alone (Finley Creek #11) - Calle J. Brookes Page 0,80

eventually. In the meantime, she looked at her companion.

There were half a dozen more journals stacked up on the dinette next to him. “Heavy reading?”

He looked up at her. “Hmmm? Oh. These are Henedy’s journals. I’m taking notes. Seeing if anything stands out. See if I can figure out what was going on with him.”

“Why do you have them?” She shivered as a chill went through her. The last person on the planet she wanted to think about right now was Wallace Henedy. Her scars twitched just hearing his name mentioned. “How did you get them? Didn’t the TSP want them?”

“They were in his office when I cleaned it out for the next surgeon. That’s what I did the afternoon before the abduction attempt. I had them in my trunk when I noticed you walking across the road in the rain. I was going to drop them off with Detective Evers on my way home that night. In all the chaos, I forgot to give them to Elliot.”

“Nikkie Jean said there were two potential replacements while I was…off. Plus, Dr. Baker.”

“Neither worked out. Baker most certainly didn’t. When he said something totally inappropriate to Lacy and Nikkie Jean about female surgeons, Rafe and I made the decision to let him go immediately.”

“I’m sorry—well, sorry you’re having so much trouble replacing Henedy. Not sorry about Baker. I…may have said a thing or two to him before he was fired. Guy was a total jerk. Once again, you’re rescuing me has caused you more trouble than you deserve.” That left her feeling indebted. Not something Izzie exactly wanted to think about.

The restlessness was hard to miss. She was also in pain—and too stubborn to admit it. Wind slammed into the van. She jerked. Then winced. “What’s the plan for severe weather in this thing? I’d really hate to have to ride out another storm.”

He sat aside the journal and leaned forward. “We listen to the weather reports, and if it’s severe, we head to whatever shelter is in the check-in packet.”

“Great. We’ll get to ride out the next one together in a germ-filled campground toilet. Tell me: Did I do something in previous life to deserve this? I’m really starting to think karma is out to get me for something.”

It was the closest to actual complaining and whining he had ever heard from her. For some reason, it made her downright adorable at the moment. Especially with the dark curls tumbling wildly over her forehead. “It’ll be ok. I’ll protect you.”

“Ok, so stay in the tin can until what? We’re given the signal to come home? Does Elliot Marshall have a bat tattooed to his chest? A big glowy light we’ll be able to see clear across Texas?”

“Something more like a bull with fangs. I’m not exactly certain. I have heard he may have wings beneath his dress uniform. We just have to play it by ear.”

“Want to know a secret, Jacobson?” She leaned forward.

Allen fought the urge to grab her and kiss the half pout off her mouth.

He could think of a few things they could do in the rear of the van to pass the time in the storm. He cleared his throat and reminded himself that even if she was so inclined, she was hurting and injured, and it would not be a good idea at all. “Sure.”

“I’m not much into playing it by ear. I far prefer to plan. I even plan time to work on my plans. I have backup plans for my backup plans. Well, I did, until Wallace struck.” She paused for a moment, then raised the shade over the nearest window. She peeked out at the storm, a concerned look on her fairy face. She lowered the shade with a determined jerk, then flopped as gingerly as a person could over to face him again. “Maybe that’s it? Someone somewhere in the ether has decided to teach me a lesson. The last three months I haven’t been able to plan a single flippin’ thing.”

“No. I don’t suppose you have.” He understood how adrift that made her. He wasn’t obsessive about it, but he preferred to know what his future held, too.

“So…what’s in the journals? Does he say why he went berserk and tried to kill me and Nikkie Jean?”

“A mix of things. Patient observations, notes to himself of things to research. Stuff he needed to understand better. Personal commitments, schedules. He has some learning disabilities, he told me once. Highly intelligent, but he has