CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Stella resisted the urge to rub her arms as she walked into the police department. The whole drive back from the hospital, she couldn't shake her flurrying guilt and frustrations. She suddenly felt extremely vulnerable and raw. Especially under the eyes of fellow officers of the law. The fact that someone knew about her and Bishop – even if it was based on assumptions – made a knot tighten in her throat. She started for her office, trying to refocus her mind on work.
“Hey, Stella!” She almost got into her office when Stan came jogging up the opposite side of the corridor. The woman stopped and shoved all her emotions away. Her partner already made comments about her and Bishop. She didn't want it exacerbated if he sensed her confusion. The man slowed to a stop a few feet in front of her, walking at a leisurely pace to close the distance. His eyes flickered over her body, his voice wrought with concern, “How're you doing?”
“I'm fine” Stella forced a smile to her face despite her inner turmoil.
Stan nodded. His eyebrows dipped into a low 'v' as he hesitated. Finally, he asked, “And Bishop?”
Well, there was no hiding it. Trying to remain nonchalant, Stella shrugged a shoulder. “He just woke up before I left. Did you find out anything from the guys who attacked me?”
“Most of them are still in the hospital, either unconscious or refusing to talk until their lawyer is present,” Stan replied, his face pinched with blatant annoyance. His gaze drifted away from Stella, as if to take in the rest of the PD. Her own eyes followed. Around the two of them, officers went about their daily duties. Papers fluttered, phones rang, and light chatter was made. To Stella, she felt as if she were in a bubble offset from the rest of the world.
“Do you think it's all right to trust Bishop?”
Stella jolted, just slightly. She blinked as her eyes drew back to Stan's face. He looked at her, his face painted with uncertainty and worry. “Why are you asking me that?”
“I've just been thinking,” muttered Stan, his eyebrows dipping lower. The creases in his forehead deepened as his voice dropped softly, “He invited you to the Rusty Bear, and then you just happened to get attacked.”
“You think Bishop set it all up?” Stella's eyes widened, her pulse quickened. The thought blindsided her prior worries, completely barreling into them and demolishing whatever thoughts crept in the shadows of her synapses. Criminals were known to pull convoluted schemes to rid themselves of blame and avert the public's gaze. However, part of Stella couldn't believe it. “Then why would he rush in to save me?”
“Be the hero, garner your trust, get the Seven Tribesmen off the federal radar?” Stan shifted from foot to foot as he listed the possibilities.
“Never thought of it like that,” murmured Stella, still caught in disbelief. Bishop wasn't conniving. Except in the shed, when he surprised her with a kiss – sexual assault, though Stella couldn't say she minded it – to give them an alibi. Or on her date with Stan, when his very approach and flirtation sent the date to the dumpster.
Stella pressed her lips together tightly, concern bubbling in her guts. A pain clenched at her heart, which Stella ignored fervently. If Bishop really was behind her assault, behind her attempted abduction, was he puppeteering anything else? Her thoughts flew to the redhead he brought into the department. She swallowed, both dreading the answer and needing to get the discussion off Bishop. “Has Ms. Sampson's statement hooked anything, yet?”
“Not yet.” Stan shook his head, unaware of Stella's inner emotions.
“Well, she told us they are getting the shipments in through sugar, right?” Stella scrabbled to the new lifeline. No more Bishop. Her head and her heart couldn't take it. She needed to focus on business, particularly the cocaine ring. “How about we check to see if any grocers or bakeries are expecting a delivery soon?”
“Sounds like a plan.” Once Stan nodded in agreement, the woman started for her office again. Before she got too far, her partner piped up yet again, “Stella?”
Stella paused in her office doorway. She eyed Stan with wariness. Was he going to ask about Bishop again? Her fingers clawed into the metal framework of her door, waiting in silent anticipation.
The man nibbled on his bottom lip as his downcast eyes shifted back and forth. He shifted his footing before bringing his gaze back up to Stella. Her chest constricted with warmth. “I'm here for you if you need anything, OK?”
Stella nodded, eyes falling to the floor. She dallied in the doorway for a breath. Quietly, she muttered, “Thank you, Stan.”
With the door securely separating them, Stella didn't see Stan's concern melt away. The man stood there for a breath, staring at the door with a look of consternation. He started down the corridor, palming his cellphone out of his pocket as he walked. Stan ducked into his own office brightly lit and filled with the comforting scent of coffee. On the other end of his cellphone, someone cut the ringing short by picking up. Stan's eyebrows lowered as he growled, “Bishop's up. What are you going to do about him?”