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She’d have to spend some time thinking about whether a relationship with him would be wise—assuming he even wanted one. Forgiving him didn’t mean his words didn’t still hurt or that she could easily trust him again. She had enough on her plate without subjecting herself to the emotional upheaval of a relationship characterized by simmering rage and angry outbursts.

Then again, she’d never known him to lose his temper. Most of the time, he was almost exasperatingly calm. Maybe that’s why this morning’s incident had shocked her so much.

She sent up a prayer for wisdom. Her muddled brain wasn’t in any state to make further decisions tonight. But one thing was certain.

A man who owned his mistakes and took steps to make things right was the real deal.

35

After leaving Allye’s,Eric headed for home. It had been a long, draining day, and he was over it. He just wanted to get something to eat, veg a little, and hit the sack. Tomorrow he’d launch into the investigations with a fresh mind.

If only he could say the same about his relationship with Allye. But he’d dug himself into that hole. And though he’d apologized, it was up to Allye if she wanted to fill it with water and drown him or offer a hand up instead.

He wouldn’t blame her if she chose the former.

He pulled into the driveway but didn’t immediately exit his car. Arriving home to a dark house didn’t usually bother him, but tonight the emptiness screamed across the space between it and him.

Sighing, he went inside and straight to the freezer. Too tired to come up with something more appealing, he pulled out a frozen dinner. He stuck it in the microwave and stared at the digital display as the numbers counted down.

When it beeped, he removed the plastic tray and carried it to the living room. He dropped onto the couch. It was Thursday. Should be a football game on. He had no idea which teams were scheduled, but he didn’t really care. He just needed noise and distraction.

Three bites into the meal, his work phone went off. He muted the TV and swallowed his mouthful of mediocre chicken before answering.

“Thornton.”

“It’s Richards. I’m on my way to the station with a backseat passenger. Guy had a nice stash of drugs in his vehicle—too much to just be a user. You interested?”

“Definitely.” This might be just the break he needed. “I’ll be there in ten.” He scarfed down the rest of his dinner in less than two minutes and rushed out the door.

When he arrived at the station, Richards met him in the reception area.

“Thanks for calling me in. What’ve you got on this guy?”

“His name’s Samuel Phillips. I clocked him doing fifty-five in a thirty-five. When I pulled him over, he was clearly under the influence.”

“Drunk or high?”

“High as a comet. Tried to tell me the drugs sitting in the passenger seat were preportioned baggies of baby powder for his girlfriend’s kid.” Richards scrunched his face into an absurd expression.

“Oookay, then. You said it was quite the stash. How much we talking?”

“A dozen or so bags. Haven’t logged them yet, but I’d guess they’re about five G’s apiece.”

Eric let out a low whistle. That would fetch a pretty penny on the streets. “He say anything on the way over?”

The officer chuckled. “He hardly shut up, but most of it was unintelligible mumbling mixed with bouts of singing. Guy’s got a decent voice. Too bad I’m not a classic country fan.”

“Pity.” He glanced toward the back of the building. “He in the interrogation room?”

“Yeah, Vernon figured there wasn’t much sense hauling him in and out of the holding cell if you were only gonna be a few minutes.”

“I’d better get back there, then. If Mr. Phillips is that much of a chatterbox, Vernon’s probably getting tired of babysitting.”

“Probably.” He slapped Eric on the back. “Good luck.”

He could use some right about now. Stopping by his desk to grab a voice recorder, he sent up a quick prayer for help. Then he cut through to the small room at the back of the building.

The words to “Take Me Home, Country Roads” greeted him before he reached the closed door. Richards was right. The guy wasn’t half bad.