Night had fallen by the time all the formalities were taken care of. Fisher’s wounds had been treated, and he was in a cell. Despite the offer to put it off, Paisley had insisted on giving her statement. Ty had listened to her account of events, thinking of what might have happened and feeling sick. Then he’d offered his own statement, grateful there’d been nothing he needed to edit out. He’d gone prepared for deadly force, but he wasn’t sorry he hadn’t needed to use it. Paisley had enough trauma to sort through without adding that to the list, and by-the-book meant there was less chance Fisher would weasel out of this on any kind of technicality. There’d be paperwork—there was always paperwork—but that could wait.
Xander laid down his pen, flexing his hand. “I’m sure we’ll have more ques
