"Have coffee with me later." He asks a little flirty like he's playing with her.
She doesn't answer, just shakes her head.
He looks back over his shoulder, tucks his thumbs in his Wranglers, "It's just coffee, Vic."
"It was just a ride home." She's defiant in her shame.
This time he shakes his head.
"I think you need a friend." Eamon's eyes squint and his dimples peek through the thickness of his beard, "I'd like to think I was one."
Her stomach knots when the natural wood door eases open the way they do when they are really expensive. Walt catches her eyes. He doesn't understand what he feels but before his brain can override his heart her eyes shift to the young Cumberland deputy.
She asks just enough details for the psychiatric hold paperwork and secures Desmond in her truck for transport. She doesn't stay to hear the sob story. She does her job. It's the one thing she has always done well despite the assholes in her life. She doesn't give a shit. At least the lie is believable for now. Fuck him, she thinks, as she paces the truck purposely toward the hospital. She has purpose in her endeavor.
"You won't hurt me?" He asks meeting her eyes in the rearview mirror.
"Nope." She says noticing the sadness and the pain in the stranger's eyes.
She checks the odometer out of caution. The empty roads have a way of tricking you she reminds herself. She has to watch her speed.
"What happened to you?" Her voice is absent the bitchiness she feels.
"The war." He says as he scratches his jaw on the front of his polo clad shoulder, "Nothing ever clicked when I got back home. You know?"
"Sorry." She says and it sounds sincere because it is.
His lips twist and his head shakes as he looks out of the window.
"She fucked with me more than those bastards in Iraq."
Her eyes meet his again but they don't stay there. She doesn't want to spook him and she didn't read him his rights.
"I wasn't going to hurt her."
Vic clears her throat, "Desmond, I have to read you your rights." She pauses, "But technically it's not illegal to be bat shit crazy." She smiles and he laughs.
She processes his paperwork for the psychiatric ward and explains that they will hold him for an evaluation but then he really is in custody for kidnapping Donna and that he will be transported to the psychiatric ward in Sheridan while he awaits trial if the District Attorney decides to press charges.
He nodded that he understood.
"Don't let him do it." He says as the orderlies strap him to the gurney.
Her eyebrows scrunch asking the question for her.
"She has him in her web. That's how she gets you."
"Has who."
His face wipes plain. He's insulted now. His lips tighten and she knows what's happening and she thinks maybe she did it on purpose.
The WYDOT construction sign flashes by her peripheral vision. The back tires kick compensating for speed and the loose gravel spurts and spits into the underbody.
"Fuck."
She exclaims coming to a complete stop. Her palms slam against the top of the steering wheel and her anger isn't so much about nearly spinning out in the county truck but more about how stupid she feels about him, about this town, this job, her defunct marriage, about everything.
She pulls her hair back and twists her jaw in defiance. The back of her fingers slide under her dampening eye. She wipes her wet finger on her faded skin tight jeans and shifts her truck into drive. Her voice wraps around and twists inside reminding her that she is better than this. She deserves better than him.
The next few minutes are easy enough and she they turn into uneventful hours because she missed Walt reuniting Donna with her son. It turns out his story was legit. When the station phone rings she startles but luckily Ferg doesn't notice as his eyes grow large like an eager little boy.
"Um, that was Walt." He clears his throat. His eyes return to normal.
"He's taking Donna back to her office for Chan's records for the psychiatric ward in Sheridan." His lips fold back inside themselves.
"Looney fucking toons." She studies Ferg's face to confirm she is successfully playing it off. He is much smarter than any of them really give him credit for but she decides in that moment if he stays oblivious so will she as the thinly veiled wall around her heart begins to crack.
She leaves the office after making an unnecessary excuse about extra patrol. She wonders why she makes up alibies when no one really asks her for one. It's human nature she thinks and it's why people get caught. They trap themselves into a story.
Despite her best efforts she can't help but think of what story he told Donna about her. If he didn't say anything she thinks that would be worse than the truth. An hour later, she's parked in the driveway and making the very conscious decision to drink until the pain numbs enough to not actually kill her. Her phone call to Ferg is believable enough. She really is sick to her stomach but not sick enough to stop her from hanging up and dialing his phone number.