“What’s the ruckus about?” Sheriff Lewis demanded as we stormed into Jensen’s bedroom.
Adwin, prone on the floor not far from the door, had split lips and a bruise on his forehead. The cherry-framed mirror and silvery fragments were lying beside him, as were his glasses. Budd was ten feet away, his face to the floor.
“Cupcake!” I dropped beside the injured man.
He stirred.
Aunt Mat hastened to the washroom and returned with two wet facecloths, one which she passed to Rey. Quickly she dabbed Adwin’s pale cheeks and forehead; Rey did the same to Budd.
Lewis bent over him. “What happened? Did you and my deputy get into a fight?”
“No.” Adwin pushed aside the facecloth and struggled into an upright position as Lewis moved over to Budd.
He leaned close and inspected the young man’s face.
