Page 15 of No Offense

But enough to have seeped through the sleeping bag in which the girl had been curled, and into the new gray industrial carpeting.

The stain would probably come out.

But John’s anger over what those self-entitled little ass clowns had done wouldn’t as easily be washed away.

“So I just sat by her until the EMTs got here, holding her hand, telling her everything was going to be okay... except, of course, I wasn’t sure everything was going to be okay.”

This was too much. He knew he was supposed to stay impartial. He knew he was supposed to stay detached. He wasn’t supposed to refer to packs of privileged teenage vandals as “ass clowns,” or to assure any citizen with whom he worked of any kind of outcome regarding a case, because no officer of the law could ever be sure what was going to happen.

But the Sunshine Kids were different. Molly Montgomery was different.

“Everything’s going to be okay,” he heard himself say, meeting Molly’s gaze for the first time.

This was a mistake. Her dark eyes were as large as ever, and they met his with what felt, to him, like a shock from one of the Tasers he and his deputies carried.

Except that the shock from Molly Montgomery’s eyes felt much, much more startling.

“How do you know that?” she asked.

“Because,” he said, “Marina—that’s one of the EMTs—said the girl’s vitals were good. She’s got a little bit of a fever, but that’s only to be expected after—” He caught himself and went mum.

But it was too late.

“After giving birth?” She reached out and grasped his arm, her fingers even more of a shock than her gaze, her skin cool on his. He suddenly felt as if he’d burst into flame. But that was ridiculous, of course. “So you think it might be her—the baby’s mother? Shehasto be, right? When the EMTs got here, I heard one of them say she wasn’t shot or stabbed. All that bloodhasto be from giving birth.”

He’d put his foot in it now. He’d been so careful, too, separating her from the crime scene as soon as he’d arrived. Molly was the one who’d been with the girl the whole time. The feverish teenager had been barely conscious, not saying much, asking only for water—which Molly had just happened to have with her, in a rose-gold reusable bottle, of course, because, like his daughter, the librarian was environmentally conscious and would probably never dream of using a disposable plastic container or single-use straw.

But no. John wasn’t going to let what happened yesterday happen again. He wasn’t going to allow the pretty librarian to suck him into another one of her conversations where she played amateur sleuth. No way. No matter how nice she looked in today’s outfit, which happened to be a tight skirt paired with a white blouse under a cardigan.

A cardigan, on a tropical island!

No. He was a professional lawman. He would not stand for it. He was going to solve his own crimes. He’d already solved this one. He knew who was behind this gross atrocity, and he was going to make sure they were punished to the fullest extent of the law.

And quite possibly tased, if the opportunity arose.

“Well, I guess we’ll just have to wait until she’s in good enough shape for us to ask.”

There. That sounded very professional. Exactly what a sheriff would say to someone in whom he had absolutely no romantic or sexual interest whatsoever.

“She’s just so young, though.” Molly had stopped touching him and was hugging herself instead. He guessed he understood what the cardigan was for. It was quite chilly inside the building, what with the air-conditioning. No wonder those ass clowns liked it there so much. “She can’t be more than seventeen or eighteen. Surely, if she’s the mother, you wouldn’t press charges against her for what happened to the baby. She can’t have been the one who left it at my library. I doubt she’d have had the strength to walk to the window, let alone two blocks away. Someone else must have done it. Whoever didthat”—she nodded her head toward the wreck in the room next door—“probably.”

He wasn’t going to admit it—at least, not to her—but it was looking more and more as if she was right.

“Well,” he said. “We’ll just have to see.” He began walking toward the door, indicating that the interview was over. He was relieved when she followed. At least he was going to get out of this without having made too big a fool of himself. “In the meantime, I’d appreciate it if you’d keep all this to yourself.”

Molly gave him a look that he recognized. It was the same look his daughter gave him whenever he said something about a popular celebrity that was wrong—crushing disappointment.

“Of course! The privacy of my patrons is one of my highest priorities. And even though these people are not exactly my patrons—I’m fairly certain they stole all of those books—they were still in my library, so it’s not in my best interest to go blabbing to the press about them.”

John nodded, satisfied by this response—even though it seemed a little defensive—and opened the door just as members of his tech department were trudging down the hallway.

Molly saw them, too, and froze in her tracks.

“What are they doing?”

“That’s a crime scene.” He nodded toward the other room. “Trespassing and vandalism, at least.” Who knew what other charges he’d come up with after the girl was well enough to start talking? If he had his way, he’d track down her friends, lock them up, and then throw away the key. Although he was sure their rich mommies and daddies up North would hire them expensive lawyers, and he’d never get the chance. “We’ve got to record and save the evidence.”

“Am I going to get my books back?”