He allowed the deputy to guide him toward the door, even though every movement sent pain through his shoulder.
As they passed the counter, Darcy reached for a clean towel.
"Take this, Walter."
He accepted it with a small nod.
"Thank you."
Darcy's eyes were wet.
"I'm sorry."
Walter looked at her.
"You didn't do anything wrong."
The sheriff heard the exchange and rolled his eyes.
"Let's go."
Outside, the morning air was cold. A patrol vehicle waited beside the curb, its blue lettering reflecting faintly in the diner window.
Walter was placed in the back seat.
The door shut with a heavy metallic sound.
As the vehicle pulled away, he looked through the window at Pine Ridge Diner. Darcy stood in the doorway, holding the towel he had used to cover his injury.
She watched the patrol car disappear down the road.
Inside the vehicle, Walter leaned his head against the seat.
His wrists were uncomfortable behind his back, and his temple continued to bleed. He could hear the radio crackling in the front of the car.
Deputy Cole drove.
Sheriff Hollister sat in the passenger seat.
Neither man spoke for several minutes.
Then Hollister turned slightly.
"Who did you call?"
Walter looked through the window.
"My daughter."
The sheriff smirked.
"Your daughter?"
"Yes."
"What is she going to do? Send you a sympathy card?"
Walter remained silent.
Hollister shook his head.
"People like you always think there's somebody important waiting to rescue them."
Walter slowly turned toward him.
"She isn't coming to rescue me."
The sheriff raised an eyebrow.
"Then what is she coming to do?"
Walter looked directly at him.
"Find out what happened."
Hollister laughed and faced forward.
"Good luck with that."
The patrol car continued toward the county station.
Walter closed his eyes, trying to control his breathing. He remembered the woman's voice on the phone and the careful way she had asked whether Hollister was still inside the diner.
Tessa had never been someone who reacted without thinking.
Even as a child, she had been unusually observant. She listened more than she spoke, remembered details other people overlooked, and rarely made promises she could not keep.
Walter had watched her grow from a little girl who followed him around the house into a determined young woman who had chosen a life of service.
He remembered the day she left for the Navy.
She had stood in the driveway with a packed bag, trying to hide how nervous she was.
Walter had told her that courage was not the absence of fear. It was the ability to do what needed to be done even when fear was present.
She had remembered those words.
Now, years later, she was the one reminding him to stay calm.
At the station, the patrol car stopped near the entrance.
Deputy Cole opened the rear door.
"Watch your step."
Walter climbed out slowly.
Hollister was already walking toward the building.
"Bring him inside."
Walter followed the deputies through the entrance. The reception area smelled of disinfectant and old coffee. A clerk sat behind the front desk, looking up as the sheriff entered.
"What happened?" she asked.
"Disorderly conduct at Pine Ridge Diner."
Walter stopped walking.
"That's not what happened."
Hollister turned around.
"Did I ask you to speak?"
The clerk looked from the sheriff to the blood on Walter's face.
"Shouldn't he see a medic?"
"After booking."
Walter said nothing.
He had learned long ago that arguing with someone who controlled the room rarely helped. What mattered now was preserving the facts, remembering every detail, and making sure that the people who had witnessed the incident were not frightened into silence.
The deputies guided him down the corridor.
The same corridor where he would soon stand against the gray wall, his wrists cuffed behind his back, while Sheriff Hollister grabbed his jacket and shouted inches from his face.
But before that confrontation, Walter was taken into a small processing room.
A camera was mounted in one corner.
A desk stood against the wall, with a computer monitor, a telephone, and a stack of forms arranged across its surface.
Cole removed a folder from a drawer.
"Name?"
"Walter Hayes."
"Date of birth?"
Walter answered.
"Address?"
He provided it.
Cole typed the information into the computer.
Hollister stood near the doorway, watching.
"Any prior arrests?" Cole asked.
"No."
"Any outstanding warrants?"
"No."
"Then why am I being booked?" Walter asked.
Cole hesitated.
The sheriff answered before he could.
"Resisting a lawful order. Disorderly conduct. Interfering with a business."
Walter stared at him.
"I was the customer."
Hollister stepped forward.
"And now you're the suspect."
Walter looked toward the camera.
He knew it was recording.
He also knew that every word spoken in that room might become important later.
"Please make sure the report includes that I requested medical attention," he said.
Cole looked uncomfortable.
"I'll note it."
"Thank you."
Hollister gave a dismissive laugh.
"Look at you. Still pretending this is some kind of courtroom."