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The door opened, and Wannamaker leaned in. “If you’ll follow me, Ms. Gladstone, the magistrate can talk to you about a restraining order now.” He shifted his focus. “And Mr. Covington, they’re bringing Mr. Crushed here to join you. The charges have all been dropped.”
“And Mickey Pauley?” Olivia asked.
“I have to talk to the judge to get an arrest warrant. That’s next.”
Olivia stood. “Mr. Covington, I’d like to say something to Nutsbe before you leave, if I may.” She didn’t wait for an answer but gathered her purse and phone to follow Wannamaker to the magistrate’s office.
It was a fairly quick process. Olivia knew the drill from helping many witnesses along the way. As she headed back toward the conference room, Olivia found Covington and Nutsbe standing at the entrance, waiting.
Covington was on his phone, looking out toward the parking lot. When Nutsbe turned her way, she saw relief light his eyes. The fatigue fell off and was replaced with a smile.
Olivia wanted to run into his arms and hold him tight, to thank him for protecting Henrietta and for putting up with Mickey’s bullshit.
But Nutsbe was a K9 handler, a neighbor, and a brand-new acquaintance. So she walked over with her hand on her heart, contrition on her face, and said, “Nutsbe, I am so, so sorry.”
Covington looked up from his phone and focused first on her, then Nutsbe. “This is urgent. I need to go.”
Nutsbe stretched his arm long, pressing the door wide for Covington. “Good luck.”
Covington raised his hand as a goodbye and strode into the night, seemingly unfazed by the cold drizzle.
When Nutsbe turned toward her, she lifted her keys toward the parking lot. “Can I give you a lift?” He didn’t answer; he just followed along beside her.
What do you say to a man who just fought your husband for your dog? She landed on the mundane. “I haven’t eaten yet. Have you?” She liked that he walked close to her. It sort of felt couple-ish. Once again, her fingers itched to reach out and slip into his hand.
“I know a good pizza place on the way back to our neighborhood. Will that do?” he asked with a smile. It was a nice smile. It conveyed that he didn’t blame her for this. And that he was grateful for the ride.
“Fat and carbs? Perfect.”
She drove through the rain while Nutsbe ordered the pizza to go. Both of them liked the same topping, bacon and pineapple. That was interesting since so many found pineapple on a pizza controversial.
The small talk was very small. There was probably as much on his mind as she had on hers. Nutsbe seemed to be engaged in watching out the side mirror, turning every once in a while to look out the back window. Did he think that someone was tailing them?
What if it was Mickey?
“There’s a new door in your fence,” Olivia said as Nutsbe pointed toward the entrance to the strip mall.
“It felt selfish to have Henrietta suffering from fence envy,” he said lightly. “It was a quick fix. No big deal.”
“I’m sure Henrietta disagrees, especially tonight.” Olivia pulled into a parking space across from the Italian place.
“I’ll give you the punch code when we get back. That way, Henrietta can hang out whenever she wants. She’s in my yard now.” He glanced out the window and then back to Olivia. “There’s a good-sized roof over my patio. She’s not getting wet.” Nutsbe unclasped his buckle and reached for the door handle. “I’ll run in. Anything besides the pizza? Canoli? Salad?”
“But—” She wasn’t sure what the but was. Just maybe he shouldn’t be running out in the rain after everything else he’d been through that night.
“Your feet’ll get wet,” he said, “and your toes will get cold. I don’t have that problem.” Before Olivia could say anything more, he was out the door with a light jog toward the sidewalk.
Olivia snatched up her phone, dialed Jaylen, and, with alarming speed, spilled the events that had taken place that evening. It was a relief to get the story out of her system, like unscrewing the top on a soda and enjoying the satisfying sound of the gas hissing out.
“Wait! Take a breath,” Jaylen sang into the phone in a lullaby tone.
“Oh. Sorry. Are you putting Tilly down?”
“She’s putting up a last fight against her drooping eyelids.” There was the sound of a kiss. “Aren’t you sweetheart? It’s so exciting to be awake and exploring the world. It’s so hard to shut your eyes. But Mommy really needs you to go night nights.”
“Should I call you back? Is my voice waking her?”
“I have my earbuds in,” she sang. “And her eyelids are heavy. She’ll be out any moment now. This is what I got. You left the police station, and you’re getting pizza.”
