It took more than an hour for things to get sorted and for Graham to get a tow truck. I watched his car being winched out of the ditch. It looked totaled to me. Graham was sitting in the back of a police car, rubbing his neck — whiplash. I seemed to have gotten off lighter.

Graham had the car towed to Dorf. One of the cops gave us a ride back to town. It was nice of her. Or maybe Graham was also a super-secret FBI agent, like Williams. That’d explain why none of the police on the scene looked twice at me, even though I’d been the prime suspect in a possible kidnapping a few days earlier and was now thought to be part of a meth ring. Christ almighty, how was I ever going to get my reputation straightened out?

As we drew into town, Graham asked if I had a car. I told him I did, but that I’d left it parked in front of the police station on Wednesday.

“Mind if we go pick it up?” he asked. “I think we need to have one on hand, and it’ll take me a while to get a rental delivered.”

“Sure, no problem. Hopefully they haven’t impounded it.”

Unfortunately, they had. It took more than two hours of dealing with a pretty surly Dorf PD, plus a fine, to get my car out of lock-up. As far as the local cops went, I clearly hadn’t been forgiven for allegedly getting mixed up with drugs, making false charges against an FBI agent, and worst of all, wasting their time.

“Hey,” Graham said as we finally pulled out of the police impoundment, “if you haven’t been home since you left town, maybe you’d like to spend the night there instead at Callie’s house?”

“Oh my god, that’d be great!”

“Cool.” He turned left and headed toward my neighborhood. “This is good. Not only can you relax and get some fresh clothes, but this’ll keep Callie from starting another argument about taking you to the fire.”

Boy, did that sound good to me.

Chapter 7

Graham walked me up to my door, which surprised me a little. Before he left, he gave me a warm smile and stroked my upper arm affectionately, which surprised me even more. The vibe I’d been getting all day from him was a little more than friendly. I hoped I was reading too much into his behavior. Graham seemed nice, and he sure looked good, but I shouldn’t get involved with one of these people. There were too many unknowns.

Being on my own was a firmly established habit, anyway. I was the woman who had fits, after all. That didn’t exactly give me a top spot on Dorf’s datable-women list.

But maybe it doesn’t have to be that way now.