he couldn’t protect her from the fallout of her own impetuous decision to run. Not that he blamed her for not wanting to square off against her husband when all the odds were stacked in his favor.
That, at least, was no longer true. With the considerable force of the Adams name behind her now, Patsy stood a better than even chance in a legal battle.
But what if she lost? He had to consider that possibility. Nothing was certain when it came to the whims of judges. He’d seen too many black-and-white cases dismissed on a technicality. He had to believe, though, that she would win. If she didn’t, then nothing he worked for as a law enforcement officer was worth anything.
If the legal system went awry, what then? What if he was forced to choose between a misguided legal decision and what he saw as Patsy’s God-given right to have her son? God help him, what would he do? Encourage her to take Billy and run again? Go with them, leaving behind his family, his principles?
It won’t come to that, he reassured himself time and again. It would be too cruel.
But fate could take cruel twists. Just ask Sharon Lynn. She’d waited for years to finally marry the man she loved, only to lose him on her wedding night. Where was the justice in that?
He thought back to those few brief hours earlier in the evening when he’d actually felt at ease for the first time in days. Why the devil had he insisted on opening up this whole blasted can of worms? Maybe ignorance really was bliss. A few hours ago he’d only suspected the tangle of problems facing Patsy. Now he knew for sure what was ahead of her, ahead of both of them.
How could he possibly seize control of this before things got out of hand? Other than pounding some sense into Will Longhorn, that is? Longhorn held the answers, though. And Justin was a cop with all sorts of investigative skills at his command.
His spirits brightened. Maybe he couldn’t do anything officially, but unofficially? Yes, indeed, he could find out if there was so much as a parking violation outstanding in the man’s past. If there was anything, anything at all, he would hand it to Patsy and Janet as ammunition for the battle ahead.
With something concrete he could do to help Patsy, his mind eased and he finally fell into a deep sleep. Unfortunately, it lasted little more than half an hour before the alarm was going off and the phone was ringing.
“Justin, I’m sorry to wake you,” Becky apologized. “But you’d better get over to Dolan’s right away.”
He struggled to shake the cobwebs from his mind. “Dolan’s? Why? What’s happened?”
“Patsy just called. She was too upset for me to make much sense of it, but I think she said someone’s trying to break down the front door.”
He glanced at the clock. Patsy wasn’t due at work for another half hour. “She’s there?”
“Locked in the back room is what she said. I could hear the glass breaking.”
“I’m on my way. Have you called Tate?”
“Not yet. I got Dusty rolling first. He was just coming back into town from a patrol on the highway. He’s on his way. Should be there any second now.”
“I’m on my way,” he said, and hung up. He was still pulling on his clothes as he ran out of the house. He had his service revolver tucked into his waistband.
It took him less than five minutes to reach Main Street. He could hear the commotion as he made the turn. Glass was shattering and someone was laying into whatever remained of the front of the store with something heavy, more than likely a crowbar or tire iron. Dusty was shouting commands that were being ignored. Instead, more debris flew, amid a flurry of curses and threats.
Justin made the turn on two wheels, then slammed to a stop behind Dusty’s patrol car. He stared at the mess in disbelief.
“What the hell’s going on?”
Dusty turned, his expression shaken. “Beats the hell out of me. Looks like the guy just lost it. Either he’s got a grudge against Doc or he’s a junkie out of his mind and desperate for drugs. Do you recognize him?”
Justin surveyed the man, from his pitch-dark black hair to his sculpted cheekbones, angled jaw and well-tailored suit. This was no thug or drifter. In fact, he concluded with a sinking heart, he would bet the ranch that this was