His lips thinning in frustration, he shook his head. “No.”
“I am the sheriff, and if I tell you that you’re going under lockdown, Doctor, you will damn well listen to me.”
If she thought he would let her win just because she brought their titles into it, she was wrong.
“I have work I have to do. You can’t stop me.”
“I can,” she retorted. “I’ll do a lot worse before I let some lowlife take another shot at you.”
So that’s what this was about. He thought she understood. Obviously, he was wrong. “Caitlin. Cait,” he said, softening his voice in a bid to get her attention. Wild-eyed and fuming, her hand straying to the gun at her side, Caitlin looked ready to run headfirst into a firefight. “I don’t think you understand. They weren’t shooting at me.”
That got through to her. She moved back as if he'd slapped out at her. In her world, Lucas was the only one who mattered. It wouldn’t have occurred to her that he hadn’t been the intended victim. He was everything.
But if the bullet wasn’t supposed to hit him, then that meant—
Her composure cracked. “You weren’t alone.” She blinked. “That Sullivan woman was with you.”
For one second, he thought about lying. Caity already had it out for the poor widow. He didn’t want to give her any more ammunition. Then he remembered how quickly word spread that he’d taken Tessa for brunch. Just because he hadn’t seen anyone around his office when he got shot, it didn’t mean there weren’t any witnesses. Someone was bound to have seen them together. It would get back to Caitlin and she would wonder if there was more to his being shot than it seemed. With his luck, Caitlin would concoct some convoluted idea that Tessa was the one who pulled the trigger.
No, it was better to tell the truth. Especially since, by Tessa’s own admission, she’d seen the sheriff as she walked up to his office. Caitlin knew she was there. And now she would know that she stayed a few minutes longer.
“Yes, she was still there,” he admitted.
“Okay. That’s it. I want her out. Gone. Today.”
That was the last thing he expected her to say. As sheriff, Caitlin was fanatically devoted to keeping the peace in Hamlet. Even though Jack Sullivan was an outsider, his murder cast a dark shadow over their tightknit community. If Caitlin set loose her only lead, she was basically admitting that she was giving up on finding Sullivan’s killer.
“But your case,” he argued. “Don’t you need her to figure out who killed Jack Sullivan?”
“Right now, I don’t care. And what if I can’t? He was an outsider, he probably deserved it. Right, Luc?”
His whole expression went flat. Caitlin was throwing his own words back at him on purpose. Standing over Mack Turner’s mangled remains more than a year ago, he’d said the same exact thing to the sheriff. For what he tried to do to Maria, he deserved far worse than to accidentally run his car off the road and into the gulley. Lucas didn’t regret the man’s death, and Caitlin repeating his callous words didn’t make him change his mind.
“It’s not the same and you know it.”
“Why?” she demanded. “Because Turner slipped into Maria’s room and she didn’t want it? Then, yeah, it’s not the same because Sullivan’s wife is practically begging for it. From you, from Mase, it don’t matter who. She doesn’t plan to be without a husband for long.”
Lucas fought the urge to lash out at her. “This again? It was an office visit, med pick-up—”
“And the coffeehouse visit was just brunch, right? Come off it. She's no good for you, Luc. Me? I would wait for you forever and you know it. That girl doesn’t know the meaning of loyal.”
Caitlin was wrong. Dead wrong. Since he couldn’t explain his absolute certainty, he clamped his mouth shut. Probably a good thing, too, or he would feel pressed to point out that he neither asked her
to nor wanted her to wait for him. Divorce was final, he got that. He was beginning to think she never would.
But it wasn’t about that. It wasn’t about them. So instead of antagonizing Caitlin, he tried to calm her by reaching out to place a reassuring hand on her shoulder. Lucas stretched too far, though, and a shock of pain shot up his arm. Cursing under his breath, he tried to hide his grimace and failed.
Caitlin caught the flash of pain. Knowing he was hurting hit her like a suckerpunch to the gut. She immediately stopped fighting him.
“Okay, I’m sorry. That’s not important right now. Finding the bastard who did this is. I don’t care if he was aiming for that outsider. He hit you, Luc, and I promise you this: he’ll pay.”
Before he got the chance to reply, Caitlin snatched her communicator off her belt. She turned one knob decisively, changed to another channel, and gripped the receiver button so tightly, her fingers turned white from pressure. Her radio sent out a call, and then they waited to see if her buzz would be answered.
Crackle. “Hart speaking.”
“Rick, this is Sheriff De Angelis. You know how you’re always telling me that you’re willing to lend a hand if I ever need you?”
A pause, followed by a very hesitant, “Yeah. I remember.”