“Are you from around here?”
“No.” The girl shook her head, and took a deep breath. “I’m just getting into town. For a new job. I’m Tess. Tess Bamberger." He could tell she was out of it, still trying to clear her head. "I’m sorry, what did you say your name was?”
“I’m Jake. Jake McGreer. I have a ranch a few miles out of town.”
“Oh, well, hi. You’re the first person I’ve met here.” Her left hand pressed gauze against the cut on her head, so she held her right hand out to him. Blood ran down her forearm. Gripped by a profound sense of failure, he wrapped his hand around hers. “Sorry we’re not meeting on better terms, Tess.”
“Me too,” she said matter of factly, taking the gauze away from her head. He handed her another stack of bandages, eyeing her worriedly. He was glad she wasn’t screaming at him, blaming him for the accident, the way his ex-wife would.
Jake saw a police car pull along the shoulder, lights flashing. Ronold Karachek was in the driver’s seat. Damn. Ron was a Department of Agriculture inspector, part time local cop, and full time pain in the ass. He’d hoped Sargeant Fuller would be on tonight.
