by Kim Mckade
Corinne gritted her teeth, wishing she could just walk away from the whole scene. The class looked to her expectantly.
Waves of animosity flowed from Carl and Jeremy. Dread filled Corinne. There was no way she was letting these two go to finish this fight somewhere else. “I’m going to call your parents and have them come get you,” she said. “And you’ll be in Mr. Sammons’s office first thing in the morning.”
Carl shook his head. “I have my pickup. I can take myself,” he grumbled.
“I don’t care. I’m calling your parents. They’ll come get you.” There was no way she was letting those two go, unsupervised. Jeremy would end up in a body cast if she did.
“Go ahead and call my parent,” Jeremy said with a sneer, wiping blood from his lip.
“The rest of you go on home,” Corinne said. “We’re through for the day.”
Corinne jogged down the dark, deserted streets of Aloma and tried to clear the day from her mind. It was cold out, and the chilly air burned her lungs as she drank in deep gulps. Her legs were growing heavy. She couldn’t seem to get the adrenaline rush that usually accompanied her jogs.
And she couldn’t seem to get Carl and Jeremy off her mind. What a terrible afternoon. Did teachers go through this kind of craziness often? She wouldn’t have thought so, not in Aloma.
She almost wished she hadn’t called the boys’ parents after their fight. She didn’t know what else she could have done, though. She couldn’t have let them go.
But calling Dan Buchanan—that was almost as bad.
Corinne grimaced and pushed herself to run up the hill. She tried to block out the memory of Dan Buchanan’s furious face. As her running shoes slapped the pavement, Corinne couldn’t help glancing over her shoulder to make sure the man’s enraged countenance wasn’t still focused on her.
While JoAnn Huckaby had been apologetic and concerned about the situation, Dan Buchanan was livid that the school was once again persecuting his son. He’d stood in the school parking lot and ranted. This school had ruined his son’s life, had robbed him of what future he had. Carl had no future now, thanks to Toby and Corinne. For good measure, he’d attacked Jeremy. The kid was a bad apple and got everyone into trouble with him, a damned derelict headed for the state pen just like his old man.
Corinne had watched in dismay as JoAnn’s cheeks flamed, and she realized with deep regret that she’d thought close to the same thing about Jeremy once.
Dan had ranted on and on, until everyone left except Corinne. She’d tried to talk to him, tried to keep the situation from growing any more out of control than it was. But when it had become apparent that he just wanted to argue, she’d left, too. He was still yelling and waving a fist as she drove away.
She laughed to herself without humor. And she thought teaching was going to bring her peace.
She thought about jogging to the courthouse to see Toby. She was worried about Carl, though the trouble he was in was his own doing. But Dan had been in such a rage when she left them, she was uneasy with the idea of Carl being around him.
She turned at the corner to her street and headed home. She’d shower first, then head to the courthouse Maybe she could talk Toby into driving out to the Buchanans to check on things.
But as she rounded the corner, she saw it wasn’t necessary. Carl was driving toward her.
Corinne jogged over to the left shoulder of the road to get out of the way. Carl’s pickup weaved down the road; he was driving too fast. He gunned it suddenly, and her heart leapt to her throat as she realized he must have recognized her. Instantly, the memories of the rock through her window, of arms that closed around her and pulled her off the Halloween hayride, along with the memory of a gun jamming into her cheek—all flashed through her mind at once.
The pickup roared closer. Corinne’s heart stopped when she realized that he was intentionally heading straight for her. Her house was just ahead. She sprinted forward, and leapt over the low rock wall that surrounded her yard. She landed painfully, one knee striking the dirt, and rolled.
The pickup swept past with a cloud of exhaust and the rumble of a bad muffler. Inside, she could hear Carl laughing uproariously at the sight of her sprawled on her grass, terrified.
He sped past, careering into the middle of the street. He overcorrected. Carl slammed on the brakes and wrenched the wheel at the last moment. With the squeal of brakes and a crash, Carl drove through two mailboxes and into a low retaining wall across the street The pickup bounced up a few feet, then came to rest.
Corinne rose from the ground and ran to check on Carl. He’d hit the wall pretty hard, and she seriously doubted he was wearing a seat belt.
She crossed the street and yanked open the passenger door. The stench of alcohol filled the cab of the pickup. An empty bottle lay on the floor.
“Carl! Are you okay?”
Carl slumped against the door, but he was conscious. A red gash slashed his forehead, apparently where he had struck the steering wheel.
“Carl! Answer me.”
Carl looked blearily at her and sneered. He muttered something unintelligible and looked out his windshield.
A light came on inside the house closest to them. Corinne waved and called to them. “He’s hurt. Call the hospital. And call the sheriff!” She didn’t know if anyone heard her or not.
She leaned back into the cab. Carl was reaching for the ignition The pickup had conked out when it hit the wall, and Carl was trying to start it again.
“Oh no you don’t,” he said as he cranked the ignition. “You’re not getting me into trouble again. Screw that!”
The motor caught and rumbled to life.
“No, don’t!” Corinne cried. She leaned across the seat and tried to grab for the keys. They were out of reach. She slid onto the seat and tried again. “You’re drunk. You can’t drive.”
He grinned wildly and showed her his middle finger. “And screw you!”
Corinne lunged for the keys again.
“Get out!” Carl slapped at her hand and put the pickup into reverse. They lurched away from the wall.
Corinne clutched the seat belt and hung on for dear life as the pickup began moving. Her feet skidded across the gravel. She braced herself on her elbows and lifted her feet into the air. “Carl, no! Stop.”
Ignoring her, Carl weaved the pickup in a wide arc out of the yard, once again hitting the mailboxes. Corinne flung herself farther onto the seat and tried to roll over. Her door swung open wide as the pickup careened wildly.
“Carl!” she screamed.
“Get out!” he yelled, not looking at her. He slammed the pickup into Drive. She would have to jump out now, before he got going too fast.
Instead, as the pickup leapt forward, she grabbed for the handle and slammed the door shut
Chapter 14
Toby’s chair gave an agonized squeak as he leaned back and propped his boots on the scarred wooden desktop. He crossed his arms over his chest and studied Jeremy Huckaby who sat silently across from him. The boy stared at a spot on the floor. JoAnn Huckaby had brought him in ten minutes ago, eaten up with worry. “I don’t know what I’m going to do with him, Toby. He just doesn’t care anymore. I don’t think I can handle losing them both.” She meant, of course, having her husband and her son in jail. Which was where Jeremy seemed bent on going. She’d left her son with Toby, in the hopes that Toby could talk some sense into him.
Toby had talked to Corinne earlier, and she told him about the fight. She didn’t know who had started it, just said that Carl had been acting like a jerk all day. Toby felt like belting both boys, just for making Corinne sound as drained as she had this afternoon
“So,” Toby said nonchalantly. “Did you get in any good licks before Miss Maxwell broke y’all up?”
Jeremy’s eyes widened a little, but he didn’t look up. “A couple,” he mumbled.
“Good. I’m sure Buchanan deserved it.”
Jeremy had no comment.
“Your mom looked run-down.
I imagine this is hard on her, being alone now.”
“She’s not alone. She has me and my brother. We help out.”
“Some help you are. Getting into trouble all the time, worrying her half to death. Have you thought at all about how all this makes her feel?”
“I know how it makes her feel,” Jeremy said through gritted teeth, raising his head and meeting Toby’s eyes for the first time. “I’m the one who can hear her crying in her room at night. So don’t play family counselor with me, Sheriff. Are you going to call my probation officer or not?”
Toby shrugged. “I think we’ll just stay in here and chat for a while.”
Jeremy snorted and leaned back in his chair, looking as if he couldn’t care less.
“So, what were you two fighting about?”
“Why don’t you ask Buchanan?”
“I would, except you’re here and he’s not. Besides, I’m sure his dad is having this same discussion with him right now.”
“Which is what started the whole thing in the first place,” Jeremy mumbled.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
Jeremy set his mouth stubbornly and resumed his examination of the spot on the floor.
“I’m on duty until 6.00 a.m., Huckaby. You can sit here and keep me company all night if you want.”
Jeremy lifted his brows and chewed the inside of his lip, but didn’t say anything.
That was okay. Toby could figure it out for himself. Knowing what bullies both Dan and Carl Buchanan were, it wasn’t difficult to see what was going on.
And obviously the threat of getting in trouble with the law wasn’t going to get him anywhere with Jeremy. Maybe it was time to switch tactics.
Toby sighed, clicked his tongue, and shook his head sadly. “I tell you, Huckaby, I feel for you. I really do.”
Jeremy looked at him and sneered.
“No, I’m serious. After all you’ve been through, no one could blame you for getting your feelings hurt.”
“My feelings weren’t hurt. He smarted off, and I popped him.”
“Hey, don’t take it personally. I’ve heard all the bull that Dan Buchanan has been spreading around town. He thinks Carl’s not going to get into a good college now, since he has a record and all. Which means he won’t be able to get into pro football. If you want to know my opinion, the kid isn’t good enough to play pro ball in the first place, and I’m a good scapegoat for him, but that’s just me.”
Jeremy chewed his thumbnail and looked bored.
“As a matter of fact, if you want my opinion—”
“Which I don’t.”
“—I think they’re just looking for something to complain about. None of the other kids arrested that night are even tasking about it anymore. It’s old news. But Dan Buchanan was always like that. Always looking for something to bellyache about. Always looking for someone to bully around. I guess Carl is a little too much like his dad.”
“He wasn’t bullying me around,” Jeremy flared. “I told you. He said some things. I hit him. End of story.”
Toby smiled sympathetically. “It’s okay, man. I know how that’s got to hurt—”
“Look, Sheriff,” Jeremy said, his lips a thin angry line, “I don’t need your pity. I handled things just fine, and if your old lady hadn’t butted in, I would have handled it even better.”
“Don’t call her that,” Toby said automatically
“And he didn’t hurt my feelings.” Jeremy’s eyes sparked, hot and angry. His breathing came harsh. “He said some things he shouldn’t have said. I just got sick of hearing it, you know? He needs someone to shut him up. That’s all.”
“What did he say?”
Jeremy took a deep breath and looked away again.
“What did he say, Huckaby?”
Silence
“Okay, let me guess. It was about your dad.”
Jeremy snorted, shifted in his chair, and mumbled something unintelligible.
“It must have been, because that would be an easy target for Carl, and nothing else would have gotten you mad enough to hit someone twice your size.”
Jeremy mumbled again.
“What was that?” Toby asked.
“He’s not twice my size.”
“Oh. Yeah, okay. Whatever you say.”
Jeremy rose quickly from the chair.
“Look, man, am I under arrest or what? I don’t have to stay here and let you play psychologist. I mean, I’m free to go anytime, right? If you’re going to call my probation officer, do it and get it over with.”
“That’s what you want, isn’t it?” Toby asked quietly.
Jeremy paced around the room, but instead of leaving, he walked to the window. His back was stiff, his hands shoved into his back pockets.
“Yeah,” he said after a moment. “That’s what I want.”
“I don’t blame you. It’s got to be hard, staying around here where everybody knows you, knows what your dad did.”
“You know what?” Jeremy asked, his back to Toby. “You ought to just stop talking about things you don’t know anything about.”
“I can imagine. Knowing that every time someone looks at you, they’re thinking about Pete, and either thinking—”
“Shut up!” Jeremy yelled. He crossed his arms over his chest, still facing the window. “Just shut up You don’t know a damned thing Your dad wasn’t a sorry, no-good son of a—” He broke off with an angry growl.
“You’re right.” Toby stood and walked around to the front of the desk. He stayed there, maintaining a safe distance. If he touched the boy now, showed any sympathy at all, Jeremy would be out the door like a shot. So Toby would stay back, hopefully draw him out a little more.
“You’re right. I don’t know. Neither does anyone else in this town Especially Carl Buchanan. So if he smarts off about your dad, you can’t take it all that personally. He’s just—”
“He didn’t say anything about my dad. He was...” Jeremy shook his head and sighed deeply, scratching his arm agitatedly. “He was talking about this story I wrote. This Christmas story Talking about how hokey it was and all.”
Toby rubbed the back of his neck and chewed on that for a moment. This was a curve he wasn’t expecting.
“You wrote a Christmas story?”
“Yeah,” Jeremy said, irritation in his voice “I like to write sometimes. Big deal. There’s this contest, and they’re going to publish the winner in the Aloma Sentinel. I entered. It was supposed to be confidential.”
“How did he get ahold of it?”
“How the hell should I know? Maybe his mom was a judge or something. Anyway, it was about this family being reunited at Christmas, and he guessed it was mine. He said it was sappy and I should send it to True Confessions magazine.”
“It sounds really nice—”
“It was a sappy load of bull and Carl was right.”
“I think it’s a good idea for you to write about your family. It’s good therapy—”
“Did I say it was about my family?” Jeremy rounded on him “Did I say that? No, I did not Because it’s not about my family. Quit reading into things.”
Toby took a deep breath and chewed his bottom lip. “Okay, it wasn’t about your family. My mistake.”
“Why does everything have to be about him, anyway? No matter what I do, that’s what it’s all going to come down to from now on—” His voice broke suddenly, and tears sprang into his eyes. He clenched his jaw, breathing hard through his teeth, his hands fisted at his sides. The veins in his arms stood out. Toby wasn’t sure if the boy needed a shot to the jaw or a hug.
He moved away from the desk. Jeremy took a step back, murder in his eyes.
“It doesn’t have to be about him.”
“Of course it does. You don’t know anything, Sheriff. You don’t know what it feels like to have everyone think you’re trash. Hearing the things they say when they think you can’t hear, or when they intentionally say it loud enough for you to overhear
.”
“You’re right. I don’t know.” Toby stuck his hands in his pockets to keep from reaching out
Jeremy shook his head “I don’t get it, man.” He wandered idly around the office, the tension whirring off him like a live wire. “Why would he do something like that?” His voice was soft now, as if he were thinking out loud “Why?”
Toby leaned a hip on the desk and folded his arms across his chest. “It’s a mistake a lot of people make, Jeremy. I guess it’s all about the money.”
“Of course it’s about the money. It’s always about money, isn’t it?”
It was Toby’s turn to shrug.
“I mean, why would he do it, though? Any idiot could see how it was going to turn out. Was a bigger house, a bigger car, or a big-screen TV worth everything he’s putting our family through? And we probably won’t even get to stay in our house. The bank’s going to foreclose any day now. And how’s that going to make Mom feel? Or Bradley? He’s just a little kid.”
Toby chose his words carefully. “You have to know, Jeremy, that no one in this town blames Bradley, or thinks any less of him because of what your father did.”
“Yeah, right.”
“It’s true.”
“Which explains Carl Buchanan and his dad. You should have hard him yellin’ this afternoon. ‘A no-account hoodlum, headed for the state pen just like his old man.’ That’s what the old fart said about me. Because I had the nerve to stand up to his stupid kid.”
“Don’t blame Dan for that. You are doing your best to land yourself in jail.”
“And why not? Everyone thinks the worst of me anyway. That would really make him proud, wouldn’t it? A chip off the old block. Maybe we could get a cell together.”
At last Toby understood what this was all about. To hurt his father, to get even with him, Jeremy would throw away his life, would purposely get himself into trouble. He would hurt his father in the same way his father had hurt him.
And it would work, too. Toby had been the one to arrest Pete Huckaby And the thing Pete had been most worried about was his family. He hadn’t wanted his wife and kids to see him in handcuffs. As stupid as he’d been to put himself in the situation in the first place, Toby couldn’t help but feel sorry for the guy.