“Honey, what happened wasn’t your fault.” Wyatt immediately regretted the form of address. He had no business using terms of endearment with her, and yet it had popped out. They had agreed to be friends, and friends were supposed to care about each other, but the feeling inside him went deeper than mere friendship. He yearned to hold her in his arms and comfort her. “Please, don’t blame yourself. You had no way of knowing he’d go clear over the edge and do something like this.”

“Oh, but I did. That night at the burger joint when he tried to force Jenette into his car, she told us he threatened to take her into the woods and rape her. That was a red flag we shouldn’t have ignored. Now Jenette is fighting for her life.”

Wyatt moved in beside her to rest his arm against the pickup. “Are all the other deputies as upset as you are?”

“No. They’re sad about what happened. But they think it’s just one of those things nobody could prevent. I don’t think they feel inadequate and”—she broke off and tipped her head back to stare at the sky, which, in the artificial light, appeared to be black and devoid of stars—“guilty for failing. They’re cops. Their job is to deal with the criminals after the crimes are committed. Sure, they try to prevent bad things from happening. We cruise the streets. We give talks at the schools. We counsel parents. But when shit happens anyway, they don’t feel the same way I do.”

Wyatt had known for some time that Erin was disillusioned and frustrated with her job, but he hadn’t understood how completely out of her comfort zone she actually was. “Not everyone is cut out to be a peace officer. That’s no reflection on you. And just so you know, Kennedy suspects Rob Sorensen is into drugs. That means his behavior may be erratic, depending on what he’s using.”

“Meth, we think, mixed with alcohol. His choice for today, anyway. His car was impounded, and a bunch of stuff was found in the trunk. Meth, crack, sedatives, and pot. Meth can make people crazy, all right.”

Wyatt grabbed ahold of her last sentence. “Crazy people are unpredictable. Not even cops can anticipate what they’ll do.”

She looked up at him. “But he told us what he meant to do. Don’t you get it? Through Jenette, we knew what was on his mind, and we did nothing to stop him.”

“What could you have done?”

“Nothing! Not legally, anyway! And that’s the whole point! Don’t you see?”

Wyatt was beginning to wish for a big glass of wine himself. He could see the pain in her eyes, but he couldn’t think of a way to make her feel better. “I’m sorry you blame yourself.”

A glassy look entered her eyes. “I looked at him through the bars of his cell. Sitting there on his cot, blubbering and cursing his father.” She locked gazes with Wyatt. “I had an unholy urge to blow his head off. Even if Jenette survives, he’s probably destroyed her life. If it’s my job to clean up after a crime is committed, why shouldn’t I start by obliterating that piece of crap in our jail? But, no. We have to turn him over to the courts and hope justice is done. Only justice is rarely dished out. His father will hire a fancy lawyer. They’ll plead drug-induced insanity or something. And in the end, he’ll probably do time in a rehab center where he can watch TV, eat popcorn, and bullshit a psychologist about how sorry he is.”