He’s fresh out of luck on that one.
I tug on my damp jeans, unable to find a comfortable position.
“You got something to tell me, son?”
Clearing my throat, I try to channel a little Deeks and sit up straighter in my chair. Eyeballing the chief, I nod and speak as forcefully as I can. “Yeah. I do. You’re not gonna want to hear this.”
A fleeting smile tugs at his lips, but he wipes his hand over it. “Well, that’s got me mighty intrigued.”
With a thick swallow, I fill my mind with thoughts of Annie and hope she doesn’t mind me doing this. It’s for her own protection. And if I love her, which I do…then I need to say this.
Licking my bottom lip, I eyeball the police chief and just get on with it. “You’re a terrible grandfather.”
There’s a thick beat that follows my statement. The man goes stock-still, like he wasn’t expecting me to say that. Then he blinks a couple of times and finally finds his voice. “Excuse me?”
“Annie’s your family. You know it. You know your son lied, and you never did anything to protect Annie or her mother. You’re a freaking cop, for God’s sake! If anyone should be fighting for the truth, it’s you!” I shake my head. “And I don’t know why you thought you had to deny Violet’s claim, but it’s made Annie’s life really hard. The way your family has rejected her, turned so many people in this town against her, and left her to live with that monster… you should be ashamed.” My final words come out on a harsh whisper.
Hank’s skin is pale, his Adam’s apple bobbing in his neck a few times before he licks his lips and points at me. “You are out of line, son. Dean is a good man.”
Interesting. So he’s not denying what I just said about Annie being his granddaughter.
What a bastard.
I glare at him, my tone freaking caustic. “Dean’s an arrogant bully.”
“You watch your mouth.” Hank glares at me. “He didn’t have to take on Annie or her mother, but he’s raised that girl like she’s his own. He’s put up with—”
“He beats her.”
Hank goes instantly quiet.
If his skin was pale before, it’s practically white now. His eyes dart past mine, then down to the desk. “Dean wouldn’t—”
“Wouldn’t he?”
Hank bites his lips together and keeps his eyes trained on the top of his desk.
I drop my tone, thinking about how Grandpa used to speak when he was trying to teach us something important. “You know, for someone who prides himself on looking after the people of this town, I’d say you’ve done a pretty crap job of protecting your own granddaughter.”
Hank clenches his jaw, then looks up with an indignant frown. I cut him off before he can start yelling at me.
“She needs you,” I say, standing from the chair and collecting my backpack. “I have to leave, but I couldn’t walk away without making sure that someone is gonna keep Annie safe. Stop ignoring your own flesh and blood. Open your damn eyes and help her. Please. Help her.” I couldn’t be more sincere if I tried.
Walking away from her is hard enough as it is, but leaving her vulnerable is going to destroy me.
I wait at the door, my fingers grasping the handle as I quietly beg for Hank to take me seriously.
He doesn’t say anything, just stares at me for a long beat before nodding once. “I’ll keep an eye on her.”
I don’t know him well enough to know if he’s just saying what he thinks I want to hear.
But I’ve said what I have to.
I’ve done my part.
Now I just have to start praying that he’ll do his.
As I walk out of the building, I get the impression that I might be the first person to ever stand up to Buckland Springs’s chief of police.
Well, it’s about damn time someone did.
Stopping outside the station, I gaze down the road. I can’t see the diner, but I know where I’m looking. It’s opposite the movie theater that’s only open on the weekends.
“Goodbye, Annie,” I whisper, wishing her all good things.
As I turn away and walk for the highway, the ache in my chest spreads throughout my entire body. My feet are lead as I shuffle out of town, wishing for a million things I don’t have the power to change.
40
It’s Time to Pay
The rain’s stopped drumming on the roof and is now just a soft patter against my windows. The sky is crying, just like my insides.
There are no more tears. I’m too hollow and dry for that kind of thing.
It’s good.
I don’t want to feel anyway.
Just like when Mama died. I clung to that numb feeling, and then I fought for the sunshine. I figured if she could smile through her heartache, then so could I.
But I don’t know how I’m gonna find my smile now.
Michael took the last of it with him.
In spite of myself, I can’t help wondering where he’s at. Is he walking out of town? Hitching a ride somewhere?
Where’s he going?
Where will he end up?
My eyes start to burn and I quickly blink, forcing thoughts of his handsome face from my mind. I don’t want to ever think about that liar again!
Flinging my legs over the side of the bed, I check the time, my insides hurting. I have to go down and wait tables in just over an hour. Damn stupid tables. I hate that I have to pull myself together, that I have to spend my night smiling at people who don’t give a shit about me.
Forcing air through my nostrils, I clutch my savings jar to my chest, tempted to throw it across the damn room. Let it hit the wall and smash into a thousand tiny pieces.
The front door opens. I glance over my shoulder, wondering if Jackson is back.
I should go see him, smooth things over. Even though he was a little jerk before, he’s still my baby brother and I love him.
Standing up, I let out a heavy sigh and drop the jar on my bed.
Get Out of Dodge Fund.
The label mocks me, and this desolate kind of sensation wafts through my chest, making it hard to walk out of the room. But I lift my chin and do it anyway. Mama wouldn’t want me to act any other way.
“Jackson?” I call, stepping into the tiny living room and jerking to a stop when I see Dean at the dining room table.
He’s sitting down at the end, facing the hallway door and slowly counting out money. There’s a stack of green bills on the right, and next to that are stacks of coins—pennies, dimes, quarters.
I go still as a sick realization hits me.
No, it can’t be.
Those wrinkled bills and coins must just be from the till.
But…
I point at the table with a trembling finger.
“Is that my—” I whisper, but my voice is cut off by these icy tendrils of fear. They wind around my voice box, and all I can do is stand there, clutching the doorframe.
Dean’s dark eyes rise from the table, hitting me square in the face. “Get out of Dodge, huh?”
The breath in my lungs goes thick. I can’t breathe out or in. My heart pounds so loud I can hear it vibrating in my head.
It was him! He found it! He stole it!
Michael.