Nodding, she went through the entire story, explaining how Heath had approached, how he’d whisked her away, not stopping until he’d reached his car.
One question after another interrupted the telling.
Yes, she’d tried to leave, but he’d restrained her, pleading with her before going into a rage.
No, no one had seemed to notice or care that he was practically dragging her along. Perhaps they’d thought her drunk. Or just didn’t want to get involved.
Yes, he’d tried to put her in his car. That was how her arm got bruised, her shirt ripped.
Everything had happened so fast.
She told them how Armie had checked on her and about her promise to come right back in.
She hadn’t known about Mary until Cannon explained how he knew there was a problem, why he’d gone in search of her.
When next Yvette saw her, she’d thank her.
Oh, the irony in that.
Damn it, she would not continue to be this pathetic.
Lifting the foam cup, she finished off the coffee. It wasn’t easy, but she forced herself to sit a little straighter, to stop avoiding eye contact.
“Is there anything else?”
“Yeah.” Logan propped a hip on the edge of the table. “You okay?”
“Yes, I’m fine.” Somehow she would make it so, because sniveling was out of the question. “Thank you for coming out. I’m sorry—”
“None of that.” Logan’s voice was kind but firm. “Huffer joined in interviewing witnesses. I already put out an ATL.”
When she shook her head, not understanding, he clarified, “Attempt to locate.”
“Do you think they’ll find him?”
“Depends on what he does. We have his car make and model, a good description of him. And Cannon says he’s injured.”
“Dislocated shoulder,” Cannon said without inflection. “Broken nose, hopefully busted ribs.”
With a noncommittal sound, Logan drank more coffee. “So he’ll need medical care?”
“Probably.”
Logan waited, a brow raised.
“I know how to put my shoulder back,” Cannon said. “Nose, too. Ribs just need to heal. But he’s not me.”
Yvette stared at him, horrified. No, Heath wasn’t even close to being Cannon. But he was insane.
Logan just rolled with it. “Okay, so we’ll alert the major hospitals, but if he goes directly to an urgent care facility...” His shoulder lifted. “The thing with an ATL is that an officer has to actually come across him. He doesn’t have a known residence here, we aren’t sure where he’s been staying, so if he lies low, could be hard to catch up with him.”
Cannon watched her. His enigmatic gaze kept her from knowing his thoughts. He was...intense, but with anger? Concern? She just couldn’t tell.
Logan wanted her to go through the story again, just to ensure the details stayed the same and she hadn’t forgotten anything.
Telling it a second time wasn’t any easier.
“It’ll take a couple of days for the arrest warrant.” With the cup now empty, Logan crushed it and tossed it toward a garbage can. “Did you have an RO against him in California? If so, we need to notify them.”
Another blank look from her.
“Restraining order,” Logan explained.
“It didn’t seem necessary. He...” She hated having to defend herself. “He wasn’t like this, that is, this extreme, until after I left. I could just ignore him.”
“Not anymore.” He looked from her to Cannon and back again. “It’s a good idea if you don’t stay alone.”
Cannon pushed back his chair. “She won’t be.”
CHAPTER TWENTY
CANNON DIDN’T WANT to leave, not even for a second. But he also refused to leave her unprotected.
They’d only been in the break room for forty-five minutes—less than an hour that had felt like ten as he listened to her quavering voice, saw her shaking hands and witnessed her humiliation.
She didn’t understand that no one blamed her. Because she blamed herself.
No one expected her to keep it together either.
But she did.
He followed Logan as far as the door, thanking him again. It was a good thing to be friends with cops.
The bar crowd hadn’t thinned out much. Even from the break room he could hear the boisterous laughter and loud talking. Someone played the jukebox; beer bottles clattered. He rubbed the bridge of his nose but quickly made up his mind.
“Stay put a minute.”
Twisting around, a little panicked, she asked, “Where are you going?”
“I’m not leaving.” Yet. “You’ll stay here?”
She looked wounded that he had to ask. “Yes.”
Nodding, he left the room to search for Rowdy and found him in the kitchen. “I need a favor.”
Drying his hands, Rowdy nodded and stepped aside with him. “You want me to put out some feelers?”
What the cops couldn’t find through legal channels, Rowdy could usually manage...the other way.
“Yeah, I do. But I’ll also be doing my own thing.”
“Neighborhood watch?”
He nodded. “Can you stay with her while I go get Armie? Then I’ll just need ten minutes to get things lined up.”
“Not a problem.” Knowing time was short, Rowdy started off.
Cannon stopped him with a hand on his arm. “She’s...” Stoic beyond reason. “This is...”