watched as Billy sobered.
“I would tell you that going home to get some sleep might be the best course for you and that I can handle talking to Maggie,” he started. “But—”
“It’s Dwayne that got hurt and I won’t back off yet.”
Billy nodded.
“Then let’s go talk to Maggie.”
They marched down the hallway and knocked on the door. Matt spied the clock on the wall. Hours had indeed passed. It was almost seven in the morning.
“Come in!”
Matt took his attempt at a calming breath and followed the sheriff inside.
If he thought they’d be met with guilt or shame, he was wildly mistaken.
One look at him, and Maggie’s big green eyes got bigger. Her lips didn’t have time to purse. They were too busy parting to yell at him.
“I know you have your issues with me, but this is ridiculous, don’t you think?”
She shook her left arm.
Matt walked to the side of the bed as if he was going to inspect the cuffs. Instead, he crossed his arms over his chest.
“Considering the nature of what happened, we deemed it necessary.”
Maggie looked like a fish out of water, opening and closing her mouth, trying to find the right words to fight him with, no doubt. Billy, however, stepped in. He closed the door behind them and cleared his throat.
“Let’s calm down and talk,” he said.
“Can we talk about how I’ve been cuffed to a bed for the entire night and no one, until now, has decided to come and talk to me other than doctors?”
Maggie’s cheeks were flushed, Matt noticed. For the first time he realized there was a light dusting of freckles across her nose.
“Yes,” Billy said, channeling the calm that Matt had heard him use throughout their careers. “But first, tell us the last thing you remember.”
Maggie let out a breath of frustration.
“Sneaking off to my couch in the middle of the night because I couldn’t sleep. I channel surfed until I fell asleep in front of the TV.”
Matt shared a look with Billy.
“In the middle of the night,” Billy repeated. “And by night you mean...”
Maggie sighed.
“By night I mean Tuesday night.” She held up her hand in a stopping motion. “And, before you question my sanity, yes, I know that today is Thursday.”
“You’re missing more than twenty-four hours,” Billy spelled out. Maggie nodded. Matt noticed she was more inclined to look at the sheriff with controlled emotions. When she looked at him, he could see the fire burning behind her eyes. Not that he could blame her. The phrase “poking the bear” came to mind. Not that Maggie Carson in any way looked like a bear.
“So you don’t remember your conversation with Detective Walker yesterday?” Billy added on.
Maggie’s eyes widened.
“No?” Her eyebrow rose as she looked at Matt for an explanation.
He didn’t want to give it. He was too frustrated.
“Well, isn’t that convenient?” Matt muttered.
The comment didn’t go unnoticed. Maggie whipped her head around to Billy and then back to Matt.
“Hey, what’s that supposed to mean? Do you think I’m making this up? Why would I even do that?”
“Oh, I don’t know, covering your a—”
“Detective,” Billy interrupted, voice sharp. Matt felt anger surge again. If he was honest, it was misplaced. While he did have issues with Maggie Carson, he had never pegged her for a violent woman. Aggressive with her words, sure. Stubborn to the point where he really had fantasized about arresting her a few times, absolutely. But was she capable of beating a man in his sixties to the point of potential brain damage? No. He felt it in his gut, whether or not he wanted to absolve her of the accusation that she’d done it.
Still, the only witnesses that they knew of were both in the hospital. One might never wake up. The other was claiming memory loss. That was a tough pill to swallow no matter who the two were.
“I’m sure the doctor would be happy to talk to you about it.” Maggie cooled down as she spoke to Billy. “But I would like to know why you thought I would make it up.”
She kept her eyes firmly on Billy. He squared his shoulders.
“What’s your relationship with Dwayne Meyers?”
Matt watched closely as Maggie’s expression turned to confusion. Her eyebrows drew together. She tilted her head ever so slightly to the side.
“I wouldn’t say we have one,” she answered. “I mean, we know each other and I’ve interviewed him before. But other than that I don’t think you could even classify us as friends. Why do you ask?”
“Because I found you at his house,” Matt said.
Again Maggie tilted her head to the side. Like the movement would shake loose a memory that would make the puzzle whole. Then her face lit up.
“Well, then, did he tell you who did this to me?” She motioned to the back of her head where the initial blow that had knocked her unconscious had happened. While waiting for the ambulance Matt had inspected the injury in an attempt to understand the situation a little better. It hadn’t helped. “Unless... Did he do this to me?”
“That’s what we’re trying to piece together,” Billy hedged.
“Why not ask Dwayne?”
Matt took another step forward. He knew Billy was trying to ease the woman into the information to see how she reacted but Matt was tired of it. Tired in general. It was time to cut to the chase.
“Because you weren’t the only one I found,” he started. “Dwayne was beaten badly with, as far as we can guess, a baseball bat. One that you were holding when I found you.”
A crinkle began to deepen between Maggie’s eyebrows. She took a moment to respond with notable reserve.
“You think someone attacked us both and left the bat behind?”
“Or it was you who attacked Dwayne,” Matt offered.
That crease turned from concern to something he couldn’t read. It caught Matt off guard.
“I might not remember an entire day or so, but I wouldn’t hurt Dwayne Meyers. In fact, I wouldn’t use a bat to hurt anyone unless it was self-defense,” she said, voice even. “And, even if I had, what do you think happened? You think I used him as batting practice and then knocked myself unconscious? What would I gain from any of that?” This time her eyes found Matt’s and hunkered down on them. “I know you don’t like me but do you really think I’m capable of that?”
Matt remembered the first time he’d seen Maggie Carson. Her thick, wavy hair had been short then, but still wild. Despite five years it was the same dark oak color with a few new spots of lightened brown from, he guessed, days spent outside in the sun. She was still slender, as she had been back then, but not as rigid. When she’d first introduced herself Matt remembered thinking she looked very much like a woman with the world on her shoulders, forced to struggle to keep them upright. He’d never stopped to think about the woman’s personal life much past that, considering she had been there to question him about Erin’s death. But now?
Matt caught himself wondering about the life of the woman staring up at him with true, forest green eyes. Ones he realized he’d never really forgotten.
Ones he realized he believed.