Page 20 of No Judgements

“How?” Mrs. Hartwell demanded. “How are you going to take care of it? Where is that poor man supposed to go to get his nose looked at? The ER is closed. The walk-in clinic is boarded up because all of the doctors have left town, except for Dr. Schmidt, but he’s a vet, and last I heard, he was at Martina Hernandez’s hurricane party up on Stork Key. To get any sort of medical care, Rick’ll have to go to Miami, but he’s certainly in no shape to drive,even if he had a car, which he doesn’t, because his wife took it away. Unless you care to drive him—”

“Uh, no, thanks.”

“You need to think about your actions. You never think. You just—”

“Excuse me.”

The click of pool balls, which had ratcheted up again once Rick had left the vicinity, stilled as a tall shadow fell across the patio. I could hardly believe it when I looked up to see the sheriff standing there—in full uniform, no less—with Rick Chance standing right behind him.

My eyes widening, I glanced from Rick to Drew, but the latter appeared unruffled, reaching down to take hold of Socks’s collar, since the dog had given a delighted whine at the appearance of his owner and made a motion to rush to his side.

“Lucy.” The sheriff gave a polite tip of his hat toward the older woman. “Ed. Sorry to interrupt.”

“Oh, you know you’re never interrupting, John.” Mrs. Hartwell’s face was lit with genuine pleasure. She didn’t seem to have any idea what the presence of the sheriff meant. “We were wondering when you were going to drop by. I saved a plate of my brisket for you. I know how much you love it.”

“Kind of you,” John Hartwell said. “I was actually just on my way over.”

He was tall, with Drew’s dark hair and blue eyes, since like almost everyone else on the island he was related to Ed Hartwell, as well—though exactly how, I wasn’t sure. I’d waited on him numerous times. He liked his coffee blackand his eggs over easy. Like most of the Hartwells, he said little but tipped a lot.

“But I guess this isn’t a social call anymore,” he went on, “since I ran into Rick here, on my way in, and he says somebody hit him.”

“Not somebody,” Rick insisted. “Him!” Rick pointed at Drew. “Drew Hartwell hit me, and everyone here saw it!”

Chapter Nine

Do not count on aid from first responders during and immediately after the storm, as they will likely have evacuated with their families for their own safety.

Sheriff Hartwell looked around the yard, his cool blue eyes narrowed.

“That true?” he asked the party in general.

I held my breath. Authority figures—anyone in uniform—had always intimidated me.

But someone was going to have to come to Drew’s defense. Rick had obviously had it coming. Who went around kicking poor, innocent animals anyway?

Except that it would be obstruction of justice (or perjury) if someone lied for Drew. I had been a miserable law student—in more ways than one—but even I knew that under the right circumstances, failing to report a crime—not to mention lying to the police—could get you slapped with criminal charges of your own.

Glancing at the faces of those around me, I recognized in each the same stony resolution I felt—to not get Drew in trouble for what he’d done, which had, after all, been the right thing.

But I saw also a hint of indecision... no one wanted to get themselves in trouble, either.

If there was anyone at the Hartwells’ party who could fight off a perjury charge (or afford to make bail) without any trouble, it was me. I was Judge Justine’s daughter, after all.

I guess that’s what I was thinking as I found myself, against my better judgment, tentatively raising my hand and saying in a soft voice, “Uh, Sheriff?”

The tall man glanced over at me.

He wasn’t the only one. I felt as if every gaze in the yard was boring into me. My cheeks flared red. What was I doing?

“Miss?” The sheriff obviously didn’t recognize me outside of the café, without my Mermaid tee and nametag.

“Um,” I said, lowering my hand. “I didn’t see anyone hit Mr. Chance,” I lied, in my politest tone. “But I did see Mr. Chance kick that dog.”

As I pointed from Rick to Socks, a number of the heads around me began to nod, and I saw the expressions on them turn from shocked to knowing.

“Me, too.” Angela, beside me, took a step forward. “I saw him kick that dog, too.”

“He kicked him a couple of times,” one of Drew’s friends said. “Hard,” added another.