Diagnosed with a mild concussion, he was given an icepack and told he would be allowed to stay on the scene as long as he permitted her to put several stitches into the side of his head where the butt of Jason’s gun had broken skin. “You’re lucky,” she said, expertly sewing him back together, “the cut’s right along your hairline, so even if it scars, it won’t be noticeable.”

Micah didn’t have the energy to explain to her that the last thing on his mind was whether or not he’d acquired a new scar.

He wasn’t sure where Caprice had disappeared to when the police had arrived, but he was given a front row seat to two officers leading a cuffed (they must have removed the duct tape) Jason to the back of a squad car.

The man had finally managed to pry open his eyes, but they were redder and more bloodshot than any junkie’s Micah had ever seen, and tears were streaming down his face – whether an involuntary reaction to the pepper spray or an honest response to the bleak future he faced, Micah didn’t know.

Once they had their perp in custody, the remaining policemen and women seemed content to focus their attention on Micah. “Are you Micah Hart? The one who made the call?” a burly officer with an impressive orange beard asked as Tracy fussed over his inflamed wrists, dabbing antiseptic on his broken skin.

Micah nodded.

The officer – “The name’s Bernard Judson, just call me Bernard.” – had just begun questioning him when he looked up, and suddenly, Tessa was there.

He didn’t even get the chance to greet her before frizzy hair was suddenly in his mouth, and he was being squeezed so hard he was half-afraid the woman was going to send herself into early labor. But that didn’t stop Micah from squeezing her right back. Sitting on the stretcher, he was able to bury his head into her neck, her curly hair a curtain, hiding him from the world.

Tessa’s presence was like some sort of switch, and all his backlogged emotions suddenly broke free, and Micah found himself holding back a sob, his fingers curling desperately into her shirt.

“Be careful,” he heard Tracy caution somewhere behind him. “He has a concussion and fresh stitches.”

Tessa ran a soothing hand through his hair, careful to avoid where blood had congealed. “I can only pray it was enough to knock some sense into him.”

A sound that was half-laugh/half-cry escaped Micah’s mouth unbidden.

“Um, excuse me-” That was Officer Judson.