Dillon had wrapped Ashley’s feet in plastic garbage bags to keep the bandages dry. Then he’d dragged in two chairs, one for her to sit on and one for her to prop her feet on, which made washing herself a difficult and time-consuming process. But all the trouble had been worth it to finally feel clean again. Now, sitting with Dillon, Chris and Chief Thornton in the chief’s office, which apparently doubled as a conference room, she felt awkward and sloppy dressed in loose sweats. The clothes were a present her mother had sent last week for her twenty-eighth birthday. She’d never worn them before, had never planned on wearing them, but she’d asked Donna to grab them in case she couldn’t pull on any of her slacks over the bandages. Sure enough, they’d been the only clothes she could get on and she was grateful to have them. She’d have to remember to tell her mother later—much later, when it was too late to worry—that the sweats had turned out to be the best present she’d ever given her.
