Standing inside the foyer, I ask him, “What did you tell Bret when you went over to his house this evening?”
Philip kicks the door shut with his boot, hands tucked into the front of his khakis. He inhales deeply, staring around the room, looking at everything but me. Finally he says, shyly, “I told him that he needed to clean up his mess. Get himself together or that I’d arrest him. Bring him downtown and throw him into one of my grungy cells. He’d make a friend in Cora. She’d keep him company and talk his ear off.”
I laugh, “Really?”
“They don’t call me the sheriff for nothing.” His muscular arms fall to his sides. Thick blue veins bulge beneath his skin.
I nod slowly, grinning like an i***t. “Thanks,” I say quietly.
He reaches for my hand. I look up at him. “I also told him to apolo
