“No. So is it true you were attacked? I’m guessing you didn’t lose your fingers in a pencil sharpener.”

“Look, I’ll tell you the same thing I told the sheriff. Three masked men jumped me outside my house this morning. They roughed me up a little, then put the hatchet to two of my fingers.”

“And?”

“And? That’s it.”

“They didn’t say anything?”

“Not a word.”

“Not one word?”

“Nope.”

“Any idea who it was?”

“Nope.”

“And if you had to take a guess?”

He raked his fingers through his hair. “Well, hell, where were you early this morning? Your dad keep a hatchet lying around the garage by chance?”

“Can we be serious?”

“I am. I mean, it makes sense, doesn’t it? I seem to remember just last week you threatened to cut off my foot if I didn’t get my boot off your damn purse strap.”

She had to concede the point. “Fair enough. But assuming it wasn’t me … any ideas?”

Cole shook his head. “Could have been the bogeyman or the mailman for all I know. Tell you the truth, it doesn’t concern me right now. All that concerns me is winning two more football games. After we win district, then I’ll go find the assholes that did this to me.”

“So are you frightened?”

“About what?”

“You’re the starting quarterback of a team that’s one win away from the district championship game against the undefeated Elmwood Badgers . . .”

“Hey, not bad for a girl who hasn’t been seen anywhere near the team all season. Why is that, anyway? I mean, your old man is only the head coach.”

“Let’s stick to the subject. Clearly someone wants to keep you from playing . . .”

“Yeah, maybe even the mailman . . .”

“So if you really want to play so badly, why did you reject professional medical care? Why were you so adamant about staying out of that ambulance?”

“Uh … I’m claustrophobic. Yeah, I don’t like anyth—” He cringed.

“What? Does it hurt?”

“No, I’m wincing in pleasure. Yeah, it hurts like shit.”

“You sure you don’t want to go to the hospital?”

“I’ll be fine. Just step on it before I bleed out here.” He tightened the jacket around his hand.

Savannah pressed the pedal to the floor. “So aren’t you concerned with what they might do next? I mean, if you do play tonight?”

He appeared uneasy with the question.

“Look,” he said. “I’ve told you everything I know, which is not a damn thing. For all I know the ones that did this don’t give a shit about football and just mistook me for a neighborhood prowler.”