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“If that’s true, then you didn’t need to pull this stunt. You should just sit back and let the universe do its magic, right? You don’t need to intervene.”
“I didn’t want to wait.”
Ashley immediately stopped speaking, her lips pressed tightly together. Deputy Scott was still standing next to his vehicle watching the entire situation unfold like a bad soap opera from daytime television.
Grant was done with this discussion. Nothing productive or good was going to come out of this. He didn’t know if psychics were real or fake, but he didn’t really care at the moment. Ashley was trying to tell him that he didn’t have free will, and he wasn’t going to allow that. He could not envision a scenario - especially after today - where he would fall in love with her. What she’d done was a felony, and she didn’t seem repentant in the least.
“I’m going to let you go with a warning,” he finally said. “But if you pull a stunt like this again, I can assure you I will have no heartburn about arresting you. You’ve crossed so many lines today I can’t even begin to list them all. Suffice it to say that you need to keep your distance from me from now on. If you have an actual emergency, you need to call 911. I or another officer will be dispatched to assist you. But if you want to chat, hug, kiss, or in some way convince me that my feelings aren’t real then you need to think hard about your next action. Have I made myself clear? I don’t want there to be any misunderstandings when you drive away today.”
Apparently, Ashley’s crying jag was over, and this was the defiant portion of their afternoon. Her chin was lifted, and there was fire in her eyes as she gazed back at him. Maybe she was beginning to hate him. That might not be so bad.
“I understand perfectly,” she spat out. “You’re going to regret this, Grant. Maybe not today, but someday.”
“Is that a threat?”
“It’s a promise,” she flung back, stomping toward her vehicle. “You’ll die alone and sad. No one will ever love you.”
Was she planning to put a curse on him?
“Thank you for your semi-cooperation today, Ashley. Please drive carefully.”
Her car door slammed closed, and she peeled out onto the road, her tires spitting dirt behind them. Scott walked over to where Grant was standing, and they both watched her car disappear into the distance.
“I have questions. Should I even ask them?”
“Probably not,” Grant replied wearily. “This was a shitshow all around. Can I give you some advice?”
“Sure. I’m listening.”
“Become a monk.”
“That’s not going to happen,” Scott said with a chuckle. “I’m dating a pretty girl one town over. I think she might be the one.”
“Treat her right,” Grant said, pulling his keys from his pocket. “I’m going to head back home. Is there anything you need from me?”
“Nope, but what do I tell the guys when they ask me about this call?”
The truth was always the best policy, but Grant wasn’t vindictive, wanting to embarrass Ashley. In a day, a week, or a month, she might have rethought about her behavior here today and be ashamed.
“I think the less said about this incident, the better. You know how gossip is in this town.”
“Will do. Hope the rest of her day is better than this.”
It couldn’t be much worse, at least he hoped not. But despite Ashley’s insistence that she didn’t care about any other woman, Grant couldn’t help but put his ex-girlfriend on the list of people who might be harassing Mia.
Had Ashley done more than fake a police report today? It was still a valid question.
18
Grant’s cousin Jason was a former DEA agent, and now owned a law enforcement consulting firm based out of Seattle. He had connections that Grant could only dream of so, of course, he’d reached out to see if Jason could assist in helping contact the warden of the prison where Kevin Fuller was currently serving his sentence.
“I sent you some information,” Jason said when Grant answered his cell phone.
He’d just pulled into his driveway, returning from the debacle with Ashley. Hopefully, his cousin might have some good news to help lift up this day that had gone to crap so quickly.
“Hello to you too,” Grant joked, killing the engine but didn’t move from the driver’s seat. This was a conversation he wasn’t sure he wanted Mia to hear. Not yet anyway. “Did you talk to the warden?”
“I did. A friend of a friend introduced us. He gave me a list of visitors and mail senders. He also assured me that Fuller’s cell was checked out thoroughly and there is no contraband phone. I’ve also sent over a list of cellmates that have been released. Just so you know, Fuller is apparently a model prisoner and will probably be released later this year due to good behavior.”
