Barnett held up his hand and growled like a dog protecting his dinner. “We’ve got it taken care of.”
“Okay,” I said as agreeably as I could. “Kyle called me about something going on up here, and I came to check it out.”
Frankie looked like an old pot starting to boil, the lid rattling. “It’s damned near daytime. I’m sick of the lot of you. Get out.”
I put a hand on Barnett’s shoulder to nudge him out of the way. He resisted, so I slid around him.
Alex Red Owl sat in a ladder-back chair in the middle of the small office. Not as a guest, since his arms were arched behind him, wrists caught in handcuffs with a red bandana shoved into his mouth.
What the hell? A teen break-in didn’t call for two sheriffs and a well-armed Frankie. Certainly not tying a kid in a chair. It couldn’t be a coincidence this was Kyle’s brother.
My hand tightened on my gun, but I couldn’t OK Corral this, even if I wanted to.
Without letting my nerves get to me, I yanked the soggy bandana from his mouth and dropped it on the floor.
His eyes round and black like hockey pucks, Alex started to yell in Lakota, the vowels thrown back in his throat, harsh consonants rushing forward. I didn’t need a translation to understand his hatred and outrage.
Barnett stooped and picked up the bandana. “You see why we gagged him? The kid won’t shut up, and it makes no sense.” He shoved the red cotton toward Alex.
I grabbed it from him and tossed it over my shoulder. I might be outnumbered, but I was right. “What’s he done?”
Alex shouted, “I ain’t done nothing. These assholes grabbed me for nothin’.”
Frankie slammed a key ring onto the desk that was piled high with invoices, receipts, folders, and flyers. “Drop these off when you’re done with this polka. I’m going home.”
He brushed past Pete, who stood in the narrow corridor between the office and the door into the store.
Pete spoke to his back. “We’re darned sure sorry about this, Frankie. I’ll stop in tomorrow to take your statement about the attempted robbery.”
With Frankie gone, and Pete being a reasonable person—even if Barnett was his best friend—we might be all right.
Alex’s voice cracked. “What? It wasn’t me! I was at the rec center in Sand Gap. You ask Benji Pourier. We was there together. And Kyle called me to meet him.”
Barnett raised his arm, poised to backhand Alex. “Shut your trap.”
Pete stepped into the room. “Hey, hey. Come on, Lee. Take a breath.”
Barnett lowered his arm but huffed in and out with his nostrils flaring like a mad bull.
I gave Alex a twice-over, then a third time for good measure. “Have you seen your brother?”
Alex’s eyes, black and dilated, took on that teenager flat glare, the one that said they were so much smarter, cooler, better than you in every way. His lip curled like some tough guy, but his voice sounded like the kid he was. “I had a brother, but he’s dead.”
Barnett stiffened, and his eyes grew even meaner. “What did you say?”
Alex didn’t move his head, but his gaze shifted to Barnett. “Darrel was my brother. True Lakota.”
Barnett responded with a scary smile. “True Lakota, right. Drunk and dead on the side of the road.”
Alex tried to jump to his feet, but Barnett’s paw on his shoulder slammed him back down in the chair. Pure black hate shot from him toward Barnett. “It was probably you who dumped him there. No one hit him on the road. Dude, he had a car. He wasn’t a walker.”
Exhaustion pulsed behind my eyes. I couldn’t piece together what was really going on here, but I’d had enough. “Where’s Kyle?”
He gave me a smirk. “Where’s Kyle? Where’s Shelly? You’re sure full of questions.” He finished this with a string of Lakota that took little imagination to know what he thought of me.
Barnett leaned down in Alex’s face. “So where are they? Huh? Kyle? Shelly?”
Alex drew in a giant snort, getting ready to spit a glob into Barnett’s face.
Barnett’s ham of a fist shot out and closed on Alex’s neck.
I jumped in. “Stop it!”
Pete stepped between Alex and me and Barnett. He gave me a tight smile to say he’d take over. “Let’s all calm down, okay?”
Barnett held his ground for three beats, then exhaled and stepped back. With him tied up and three sheriffs surrounding him, Alex did something surprisingly smart and kept his mouth shut.
Pete’s eyes stayed on Barnett, as if holding him back, but he talked to me. “Here’s what happened. Frankie called me and Lee about midnight. Said he heard someone trying to break in.”
Alex kicked his foot in frustration. “It wasn’t me! I was at the rec center, I told you.”
Being at the rec center at midnight didn’t sound like a great alibi to me.
Barnett’s boot shot out and caught Alex’s ankle, and Alex yelped. Barnett couldn’t have sounded more like Clint Eastwood if he wore a serape and chewed on a soggy cigar. “Shut up.”
I surprised myself by snapping at Barnett. “Knock it off.” I needed to get Alex to a safer situation.
Pete tipped his head in acknowledgment of Alex’s protest. “Don’t know if it was you or one of your posse.”
Alex snorted. “Posse. Right.”
Alex wasn’t helping me.
Pete didn’t let Alex rile him. “What I know is that when we got here, this kid was lurking around outside, and he tried to run when I gave chase.”
Alex’s laugh had an edge that could slice leather. “Like I’m stupid enough to stand there and let you motherfuckers grab me without a fight.”
Barnett lunged at Alex, feinting a punch. The boy threw himself back in the chair. Barnett sneered.
I glared at Barnett and stepped closer to Alex. “Did Kyle tell you why he wanted you to meet him?”
Alex stared hard at me. “Told me we were hunting some sweet white ass. And here you are.”
This time Barnett’s palm connected with Alex’s temple before I even knew he’d swung. I shoved Barnett backward and he stumbled. He acted ready to go for my throat, and I figured if one of us was going to get beat by Barnett, it’d better be me instead of Alex.
We stared at each other, every muscle inside me jumping and electric. I’d once punched a bull in the nose, but that was only to buy myself some time to run for the fence. It was plain stupid to pick a fight with one.
Alex broke the tension. “Beat the Indian. Go ahead, throw me on the side of the road like my brother. Call it a hit-and-run.”
I warned Alex. “Stop talking.”
His black eyes shot death but he stayed quiet.
“Okay,” Pete said. “I’ll take the suspect to Chester County. He can cool his jets in the cell there.”
Alex howled like a coyote on the prairie. “No way! I didn’t do nothing.”
I considered the situation. I sure as hell didn’t want to leave Alex in Barnett’s hands. “I’ll see if I can find Kyle.”
Contempt weighted Barnett’s words. “What good’s a deputy if you can’t get hold of him?”
Pete helped Alex stand and propelled him out of the office.
I followed, talking to Barnett over my shoulder. “Kyle is off duty. He’s not obligated to answer his phone.”
Barnett’s footsteps thudded behind me. “’Cept he called you. A responsible human being would be available.”
He acted like he didn’t know cell service out here was spotty. “It’s the rez.”
“Exactly.”
We caravanned from the corridor, through the door, across the store, and out into the cold parking lot. Barnett grasped Alex’s shoulders while Pete locked the front door.
Barnett took the opportunity to shake Alex and give him a shove, knocking him to the pavement.
I jumped forward, planted my palms on Barnett’s broad chest, and pushed him back. It was like shoving a half a ton of mad grizzly. I forced my eyes open and my
face calm as I watched emotion battle across his face.
Resistance, fight, acceptance. At any moment, a swipe from his paw could send me flying across the broken pavement. I expected to get creamed. And yet, he finally walked backward. Not wanting to get into this again, I kept walking with him until I figured Alex couldn’t hear, leaving Pete behind to help him to his feet. “What is your problem?”
He towered above me, all hard temper pulsing. “My problem is this whole tribe.” He spit the word as if it were poison. “Lazy, dirty. Drunk whenever they can find a buck to spend on beer. Using girls so desperate for a drink they sell themselves for a buzz. And we’re supposed to be nice to them because they are downtrodden. And when a little prick comes in and causes trouble, you want to get him into rehab or some stupid thing. I’m sick of it.”
I really hadn’t been prepared for such hatred, and aside from pulling out my gun and shooting his knee, I couldn’t think of a way to respond. I opened my mouth, not sure what would come out.
Pete let out a yelp. I spun around. Under the light from Frankie’s store sign, he pushed himself to his knees. “Stop!”
Alex leaped away from Pete, his hands free.
Pete yelled again. Barnett roared.
Without thought, I dug my boots into the ground and pushed off, pumping my arms to gain speed. Pete stood and reached behind his back.
Barnett kept bellowing, but everything narrowed to the boy fleeing in front of me. He was only a few feet from the side of the store, where he could slip into the near-total darkness. I strained harder to catch up.
More shouting behind me. I struggled to run faster. Alex was getting away. Even if that might not be such a bad thing, considering the dicey way Barnett was treating him, I didn’t question the need to catch him. “Alex!”
His tennis shoes grabbed more traction than my cowboy boots. Barnett’s shouts battered me. Or maybe it was Pete. Alex put a few more feet between us. I’d never catch him before he peeled off into the dark.
I gave an extra burst, putting everything I had into my legs, my fingers grabbing, feeling like a cartoon character whose legs spin but they go nowhere. He was one lunge away from disappearing—
Bang.
21
I dove for the pavement, catching sight of the sole of Alex’s shoe as he burst from the parking lot around the side of the building.
Barnett shouted, but whatever he said jumbled in noise and shock. I rolled over as Pete rose from his crouch, arm still extended, his service gun straight out. Bang. Bang. Bang.
He was shooting in my direction. Real bullets. Dear God.
Three shots in rapid succession, though Alex would be around the corner and long gone. Frustration shots I never expected from Pete.
Barnett ran behind him and swatted his arm down. “Stop!”
Pete raised his face to Barnett, looking shocked and disoriented. “He…” Pete’s voice trailed off.
When I was sure the shooting was over, I jumped up and rocketed toward them, feeling like a hornet on a hot day. “What the hell! He’s a kid. And you could have hit me! What were you thinking?”
Pete’s arm hung down, the gun dangling.
I grabbed the gun from his hand, fighting the urge to bash him with it.
His eyes held shock and despair. “I’m sorry. I don’t know what happened. He must have wormed out of the cuffs and he knocked me down. I just…I reacted.”
Pete wasn’t a big man, but he was solid muscle. Alex had the skinny build of an adolescent with some assembly still required. It seemed odd he’d be able to topple Pete. Surprise and adrenaline must have worked in his favor.
Barnett clamped heavy hands on Pete’s shoulders and forced eye contact. “Christ. Those kids are slippery. They can get under your skin.”
Pete blinked and sucked in a breath, seemed to pull himself together. “I haven’t had a good night’s sleep in a while. You know how busy it gets at the end of the school year with all the awards and programs. Then being up all night. I guess I lost my judgment.”
Still hot, adrenaline pumping, I shouted, “So you shoot without thinking?”
Barnett took the gun from me and handed it back to Pete. “Yeah. It’s late, or early. Whichever you call it. I’m going home.”
Sure, forget a wild-assed shooting. Chalk it up to fatigue and take a nap. This was messed up.
Pete zeroed in on the corner where Alex had disappeared. “Maybe we ought to go after the kid.”
I followed Pete’s focus to where Alex had disappeared into the black. “He knows this place better than we do. You’re not going to find him tonight.” No way I wanted these bozos going after Alex tonight.
Barnett was already climbing into his Bronco.
Pete’s shoulders dropped. “You’re right. I let him get away.”
Well, thank God. How safe would Alex have been if Pete had taken him to Chester County? I thrust my hands into my pockets to stop their shaking. Not from fear, but from rage. I paced toward my car.
Pete’s voice stopped me. “I’m kind of worried about you and Lee.”
It caught me so off guard I responded, despite myself. “How so?”
We watched as Barnett flipped his left turn signal on and entered the empty highway toward Spinner County. “Lee is, as my kids say, old school. He grew up here, within a stone’s throw of the rez. He’s seen the poverty and what it does. But he doesn’t focus on the cause, he’s more about the effect. Makes him mad.”
“He is that.”
Pete added sad to his exhausted expression. “But he’s got a good heart. Under all that bluster, he does what he can to help them out. Especially the youngsters.”
I wasn’t buying that. “Like slapping them around when he gets the chance?”
“It’s a tough love thing. He uses fear to scare them into being good.”
I snorted. “It’s not working.”
Pete rubbed a hand over his face. “I hate to say this, but it’s you who fires him up. He sees you as a bleeding heart who wants to coddle them. Makes him mad and he takes it out on, well, Alex or Kyle.”
“That’s twisted.”
Pete shrugged and started for his car. “Give him a little time and space, especially about Kyle. He’ll come around eventually.”
“Barnett doesn’t get a grace period to stop being a dick.”
Pete’s head drooped, and he shook it slowly. “I’m so sorry about the shooting, Kate. I know it doesn’t seem like it, but the shots never came close to you. I’d die before hurting you.” He slid behind the wheel of the Chester County sheriff’s Bronco.
He looked so broken I didn’t have the heart to do anything but wave it away.
I didn’t wait for him to drive to the west before hurrying to my cruiser, jumping inside, and firing up the heater. The run and the scare over being shot at, or around, had worn off and I was downright cold.
I ought to head back to my house, snuggle under my covers, and fall into a deep sleep. But that wouldn’t take care of the reason I gallivanted around the countryside. Even if I climbed into my warm bed, I’d wonder what Kyle was up to. I pulled out my phone and tried him again. And got the same nothing I’d been getting all night.
Alex said Kyle had asked to meet him in Dry Creek, and the last time I’d spoken to Kyle, he’d asked me the same. I stared at the oil-stained pavement under the glow of Frankie’s Pepsi sign. Another job for Big Dick. Heavy in my hand, I cranked the heat, opened my window, propped my arm up to aim the beam, and began a slow cruise out to the road, then weaving into the other liquor store parking lots, shining the light behind the abandoned buildings and around the burned-out house.
This late, maybe Kyle had decided to stay at his mother’s house. If I grabbed an hour or two of sleep in the car, I could drive out there early. If Kyle wasn’t there, I’d go home. I wanted to check on Alex, anyway. Chances were slim he’d be hiding somewhere easy, like his house, but I’d feel better if I at least looked.
I pulled under Frankie
’s Pepsi sign and, with the cruiser running for the heat, closed my eyes. Josh’s face floated to mind. That shy smile. Warmth spread from my chest at the image of his strong back and arms shoveling, doing what he could to help me out.
My eyes popped open. If Kyle had told me and Alex to meet him in Dry Creek, and I couldn’t raise him on his cell after all this time, something was wrong. I shut off the cruiser, and Big Dick and I stepped into the predawn chill. Alex had disappeared around the east of the store, so I went west. My boots crunched on broken glass and kicked through trash in the weeds. Frankie had his own collection of dead cars, even a pickup, waiting eternally for the sand to bury them. The first trill of a robin rang out. I loved the sunrise, but I was getting tired of spending it looking for a Red Owl.
Wait. That pickup parked next to the rusted sedan. That was no abandoned vehicle. Kyle’s Chevy. I spun around and ran to it. Something caught my eye under the bed.
A man’s body. An arm flung out, a hand curled and still.
“Kyle!”
Splayed under the pickup on his back, his eyes closed, no movement. I crawled next to him, placing my hand gently on his neck, first relieved to feel warm skin and then a weak pulse.
I put my face close to his, smelling the metallic scent of blood, praying I wasn’t too late. “I’m here, Kyle. Hang on. Gonna get you some help.”
I ran back to the car and threw myself inside, closing the door, turning the key, grabbing the mic, and driving around the store at the same time. I called for an ambulance, knowing it would take nearly a half hour to get here from Potsville, but not willing to move Kyle. My cruiser bumped over the trash and weeds, and I positioned it to shine the headlights in Kyle’s direction. I grabbed a blanket from my trunk and hurried back to him.
I inspected him as carefully and thoroughly as I dared. His face looked bad. Eyes swollen, a bruise on his right cheek, cuts on his neck. Obviously, something harder than fists had created an ugly lump covering Kyle’s forehead. I gently probed for more injuries and found nothing. Most of the bleeding had stopped and clotted, and I didn’t know what else to do.
“You’ll be okay. The ambulance is on its way,” I murmured close to his ear, repeating the same words, letting him know he wasn’t alone. I held Kyle’s hand and thumbed Barnett’s number on my phone.
Bitter Rain (Kate Fox Book 3) Page 20