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her version where they were all thinking good riddance. People did like to know their opinion mattered. Maybe she should have campaigned a little.
    Too late now.
    “Yes, well, on to the next adventure.”
    “And what will that be? Do you have a job offer?”
    “I have options.” Her future loomed ominously ahead of her like the fog creeping up on the west side as she took the off-ramp in Santa Rosa. “A town in the next county over offered me an undersheriff position.” The city was bigger than Woodpark, but not by much. “And there are always patrol positions in San Francisco.”
    “You don’t sound too excited by those options.”
    “The undersheriff is a higher rank, but San Francisco holds more appeal. It’s a dilemma.”
    The truth? Neither of them appealed to her.
    “The undersheriff position holds some appeal, except for the location. I’ve seen too much of the world to be happy in a small town.”
    “Then why run for sheriff?”
    Because she thought she’d found acceptance.
    She explained how she got the job. “The people were decent for the most part and seemed to like me. For a while I felt like I belonged. But the election results don’t lie. I wasn’t one of them. The mayor’s brother-in-law was one of them.”
    It was an old lesson, well learned. And yet she’d fallen for it again. The need to belong. As a child she’d suffered with every base change until she learned to Bubble Wrap her emotions. And as an adult she’d stayed in more than one relationship longer than she should have.
    Her last boyfriend let her catch him cheating so she’d finally get the hint. Not one of her more stellar moments. Rather than fall into the pattern again, she’d stayed single for the past two years.
    “A position in San Francisco holds a lot of appeal locationwise. It’s a beautiful place with so much history and culture. The problem is it’s an expensive city to live in and a beat cop doesn’t make much.”
    “It would be a step backward for you.”
    There was that. “I don’t mind working my way up, but I really wanted something more, something to challenge my mind.”
    And she wanted a home. Someplace permanent. She appreciated what she’d seen of the world, and had more countries she longed to visit. But more than anything she wanted a place to come back to, a place to call home.
    “I’ll figure it out.” She pulled into the clinic parking lot. “We’re here.”
    * * *
    While JD had another MRI she found the cafeteria and got a cold soda. The idea of caffeine didn’t bother her. When her head finally found a pillow, nothing would keep her awake.
    Figuring she had a few minutes, she took a seat at a table, leaned her head against the wall and fell asleep.
    It seemed only an instant later she opened her eyes. She yawned and blinked her watch into focus. An hour had elapsed.
    Wondering when this night would end, she did a few stretches—oh, yeah, that felt good— gathered her soda and headed back to emergency. Clear down the hall she heard a ruckus going on and hurried toward the sound.
    “You can’t keep me here against my will,” JD declared. He sat on the side of the gurney facing the doctor, a plump woman in a white lab coat with lovely mocha-colored skin and beaded black braids clipped atop her head.
    He was refusing to be admitted at the doctor’s request. Stubborn man.
    “It’s just for observation.” The doctor spoke with resigned patience.
    “You said there was no additional swelling,” JD pointed out.
    “No. But you’ve sustained a severe concussion.” The woman responded. “I highly recommend you be admitted for tonight and possibly tomorrow. Head wounds are unpredictable. It’s for your own safety.”
    JD pushed to his feet. “I’m fine. I have the pain medicine the last doctor gave me. I can take care of myself.”
    “Sir, I really advise against leaving.” She shifted her bulk to block his exit. “You need bed rest. Trauma of this magnitude requires time to