Christmas Angel by Amanda McIntyre Read Free Book Online Page A

feeling she bore the brunt of some underlying communication going on between the two.
    Detective Jackson shook his head. “That won’t be necessary. We’ll take care of her.”
    Detective Gleason cleared his throat and turned away.
    “Well, if at all feasible, I would suggest she be under someone’s watch for at least twenty-four hours. Chances are good she’s sustained at least a mild concussion.”
    She lay there, feeling lost to their whims. She wanted to tell them she didn’t know anyone in this town, but she couldn’t truthfully say since she didn’t know for sure where she was. The doctor faced her and spoke with grave authority. “You rest for now and push this button if you feel dizzy or nauseous. And if you need these men to leave, you tell them to get out. Do you understand, young lady?” He smiled, and once she agreed with a nod, he left.
    She stared after the kind man in the white coat, her greater concern where she would end up after she left this room. Detective Jackson touched the back of her hand. Jarred from her reverie, she blinked and looked at him.
    “Would you like something to eat? I’ll run down to the cafeteria. My captain is on his way here. He’d like to ask you a few questions, if you’ll allow it.”
    “Captain?” She’d once met a ship’s captain in New York, but she didn’t know what more she could tell anyone beyond what she had told this man. “Is he like a… sheriff?”
    He eyed her. “Yeah, I guess you could call him that. Are you allergic to anything?” He paused at the door.
    She frowned, puzzled by the large number of odd-sounding words she simply didn’t understand. “Allergic?”
    “It, uh, means is there anything that doesn’t agree with you?”
    “Oh. Well, cigar smoke makes my stomach do flips. Those stringy things on pea pods and mice… I can’t look at them without nearly peeing my drawers.”
    Detective Gleason turned his head and covered his mouth, hiding a grin from the looks of things. She glanced back at her blue-eyed friend. “Is that what you wanted to know?”
    He gave her a lopsided smile. “Close enough.”
    The sound of a gruff voice issued from outside the door. “Captain Murphy, of
    the Nevada police. Narcotics division. You have an injured eyewitness in there?”
    The doctor accompanied a large man into the room. Her eyes widened seeing a man of color wearing a fine suit, breezing in with a look of authority. His expression, however, was dour, and he wore a rumpled coat, but no star on his chest or hat on his head like a sheriff often wore. And why she should know, she couldn’t say. She realized this couldn’t be a dream, for she wouldn’t have been able to conjure anything quite so fascinating. Still, the question of who she was and why she was here eluded her. “Detective Jackson said you were a sheriff.”
    Intimidating though he may appear, the “captain,” seemed stumped at first by her question. He eyed her, then reached inside his coat, drew out a small wallet, and produced a quick flash of silver.
    “I promise he won’t bite.” Detective Gleason flashed a grin as he nodded to the cowboy-looking detective. “Come on. She doesn’t need all of us in here. I’ll go see if I can rustle some food up for you.”
    “Thank you,” she answered. Confident the captain seemed well acquainted with her new friend, she turned her focus to him. “I’m not sure how much more help I can be to you, sir, but I’ll try. Then maybe you can help me find my way back home.”
     
    ***
     
    Shado glanced over his shoulder as he stepped into the hallway. “You think she’ll be okay in there?”
    Gleason glanced from the room to Shado. “She seems pretty resilient. You worried?”
    He shook his head. “Nah, you want some coffee?” He wasn’t prepared yet to admit how he’d let the woman get under his skin. Maybe he still felt responsible for her injury. Maybe more than he was ready to admit kept her in his thoughts.
    Gleason shook