Chapter Forty
Sheriff Constitution tipped back his cowboy hat with one finger and whistled softly. A wooden toothpick rolled in one side of his mouth. He stood by the sagging motor home after examining the blown tires.
Bryce sat on the tail gate of the ambulance while the paramedics cleaned his wounds and applied bandages to his cheek and chin. Fortunately the tear in his leather jacket hadn’t reached through his shirt underneath. Other than a few scrapes and bruised ribs he was fine.
A wave of nausea washed over her. The paramedic told her this might happen. Sax’s stomach tightened and she thought she’d throw up any second. “Shock has after effects,” he explained, “nausea, vomiting, headaches are common.”
What concerned her more than anything was the accident might be her fault
