by Kim Mckade
“If you’d stayed here like I asked you to, you could be ignorant and content like me.” He grinned and sighed deeply as if to demonstrate his satisfaction with life.
She couldn’t get mad at him, not with that dimple winking and his eyes twinkling somewhere between merriment and devilment But she didn’t have to sit here and be reminded of her faults. He reached out a hand to stop her when she moved to get out.
“Seriously, Corinne, you ought to give the kid a chance. He was a decent boy, before I arrested his dad. At first, a lot of the other parents wouldn’t let their kids have anything to do with him. Like this kid they’ve known all their lives has instantly become evil,” he said, his voice suddenly tinged with disgust. “That made him more defensive, and he started living up to his reputation.”
“I’m not trying to give him a hard tune, Toby. I’ve seen this kind of thing more than you have, though. He isn’t interested in improving his attitude.”
“He will be. He’s been through a lot in the past few months He needs some time to work it out in his head ”
Corinne shook her head. Toby could afford to be idealistic. He’d lived all his life sheltered in Aloma. She’d learned the folly of trusting in the supposed goodness of basic human nature.
She opened the door, then stopped. “I know you think you can solve all of Aloma’s problems single-handedly, Toby. But I think this one’s out of your league.”
Toby rubbed the back of his neck and looked at the steering wheel. “You may be right. But I still have to try, don’t I?”
Of course he would try, Corinne thought If anyone in his jurisdiction had a problem, Toby Haskell was going to do his best to make it right. From the strain in his voice, the situation with Jeremy wasn’t as simple to handle as the one with Mrs. Kirby, and it bothered him a great deal more.
“It would help, Miss Maxwell, if you’d keep an eye out for him at school.”
“What do you expect me to do, Toby? I have classes to teach. I’m not a baby-sitter.”
“Just keep an eye out. Let me know what’s going on with him. Between the two of us, we can keep him on track and make sure he doesn’t do something he’s going to regret later.”
“Why? You go so far above the call of duty, it’s not even funny. He obviously doesn’t want your help, or anyone else’s.”
Toby’s expression grew serious, and he looked her in the eye. “If you could have seen the look on his face, Corinne, when I arrested his father, you’d understand perfectly.”
Corinne frowned. Was that actually guilt on his face? “Toby, you were just doing your job. You’re not to blame for the situation. Jeremy’s father is.”
“I know that. I knew Pete was guilty, but that didn’t stop me from feeling like I was responsible for destroying Jeremy’s life. That does something to a person, Corinne. At least, it does to a person who hasn’t made themselves too hard to feel anything.”
The sting of his words bit into her as she moved to close the door behind her. But that was what she wanted, wasn’t it? To be too hard to feel anything?
“Besides, he is my responsibility, in a way. The people of the county elected me sheriff, and that means a lot. One day Jeremy will quit being mad at the world, and he’ll want to get on with his life. I don’t want him to have anything hanging over his head when the time comes.”
Corinne shook her head at his naiveté all the way up her sidewalk and into the house. She was kicking off her shoes when she realized Toby hadn’t tried to touch her. Not once.
Chapter 5
The words on the paper were graphic and violent. Corinne peeked over the edge of the paper she was reading. The sophomore students were focused on work; they weren’t interested in the flood of color to her face.
She read on, grateful not to feel the tingling that signaled the beginning of a panic attack. Jeremy Huckaby’s paper was one of the most disturbing things she’d ever read. Her own words came back to haunt her: any subject you choose.
Jeremy chose a subject of violence. Violence against her. It was the story of a reporter getting shot while covering a race riot. There was no doubt it was meant to portray her.
It was an unapologetically angry piece. And meant to frighten her. It was painfully clear how much pleasure he got at the thought of her being victimized.
Corinne bit down her initial reaction and tried to look at the situation from a broader perspective. It was difficult, though. She felt as if she were going through the ordeal all over again. And once again, someone was looking on and getting benefit from her pain.
She glanced down at Josh Baxter’s paper at her elbow. Two pages of why he loved Cindy Wells. She’d corrected his grammar and told him to look in the thesaurus for an alternative to beautiful. It was so easy. She didn’t feel as if she were holding the boy’s psyche in her hands.
The bell rang and Corinne jumped. It was lunchtime.
She cornered Becca in the teachers’ lounge as soon as she saw her. “Do you have a minute?”
Corinne led Becca back to her classroom and pulled the paper out of the bottom drawer of her desk. Once she had it, though, she hesitated in giving it to Becca.
“I probably shouldn’t bother you with this,” she said, the pages in her hand. “I’m sure it’s nothing. It just caught me a little off guard, I guess, and I might need some advice—”
“Corinne, hand it over,” Becca said, her hand out. She grimaced as she read the first paragraph. “This is...” She darted a quick look at Corinne and continued reading. “How horrible.” She made a face. “Good at painting a mental picture, isn’t he?” she said ruefully.
She looked at Corinne and her brow furrowed. “Corinne, I’m so sorry. Why in the world would he write something like this?”
“I told the class to write a two-page paper on any subject they chose. This is Jeremy Huckaby’s choice.”
“Serves you right,” Becca muttered, then laughed at Corinne’s stricken expression. “I’m just kidding. I’m so sorry you had to read this. It must not be very pleasant for you.”
Becca’s sympathy was obvious on her face. Seeing it stiffened Corinne’s spine. She’d had enough sympathy to last her a lifetime. “It wasn’t pleasant, but not traumatic, either,” she denied. “I’m sure it’s just a play for attention. But what should I do about it? How much trouble will he get into if I tell Mr. Sammons about this?”
Becca shrugged. “He’s on thin ice right now. He was causing trouble all summer, and then with getting caught shoplifting... There’s talk that if he gets into any more trouble, he’ll have to go to school at The Project.”
Corinne nodded. The Project was the school inside the county youth correctional facility. Some kids just went to school there and were free to go home at night; others had to live in the facility until their sentence was served.
“Something like this might not be enough to get him sent there, but it wouldn’t do him any good, either. And with the county facility being an hour’s drive away, he might end up staying there full time, instead of just attending classes.”
Corinne paced in front of her desk. “I did a story on one of those places one time. Sometimes they’re more of a breeding ground for criminals than a reform system. They stick all the problem kids together and they learn how to be even tougher.”
She remembered what Toby said, about wanting Jeremy to have a clean slate when he got ready to move on with his life Juvenile hall, even for a few months, would definitely not be a clean slate.
Becca nodded. “I know. But what else are you going to do? If he’s a threat to the other students...”
Corinne took the paper back. “I don’t think Jeremy is a threat to the other kids. I don’t think he’s a threat to anyone but himself.”
“I agree with you there. If you could have seen him a year ago, Corinne. He was such a sweet kid, very sensitive. The other kids teased him for being so sensitive. Now he’s just angry.”
“You know, I’m wondering if that’s what he wan
ts. To get sent away, I mean. He won’t have anything to do with the other kids He acts like he hates all of them, and resents being here.”
She pictured Jeremy with some of the street toughs she’d seen in Dallas, the type of person he’d be sharing quarters with. The type of person who’d grown up with violence and anger. Jeremy wouldn’t stand a chance.
Corinne tapped the paper against her jaw. “Maybe I should call his mother and have a conference with her.”
“Maybe.”
“I hate to bother her right now, though. She’s got enough on her mind without worrying about what kind of mess I’m making with her son.”
“Corinne, Jeremy was a mess before you ever got to town.”
Corinne smiled sadly. “I know. I don’t think I’m going to tell Mr. Sammons, or Mrs. Huckaby.”
“I think that’s a good idea. You can just sit him down and have a talk with him yourself. Maybe get him to write you another paper.”
Corinne shook her head. “No. I think I’m just going to grade it and hand it back to him.”
“And not say anything?”
Corinne nodded. “I’m going to grade it like any other paper. He’s looking for a reaction. I’m not going to give him one. Wouldn’t I be rewarding him, if I did?”
“I’m not a psychologist, Corinne. I don’t know. But that seems kind of risky.”
“Risky, how?”
“Letting him think he can get away with unacceptable behavior, for one thing. And what if one of the other students finds out what he wrote about, and that you did nothing to correct him? You could be setting yourself up as a victim in their eyes if you don’t at least say something.”
Corinne read through the paper again and dragged a hand through her hair. “I don’t know. He doesn’t seem the type to brag to the other kids. I think I’m going to let it pass by. If I act outraged, he’s going to know he succeeded.”
Becca shrugged. “If it’s any consolation, I wouldn’t take it personally. He’s been lashing out.” She looked at the paper again and sighed “I can’t believe this is the same kid I saw take his little brother trick-or-treating last year.”
“Mmm,” Corinne murmured. “Toby asked me to keep an eye on him. He thinks there’s something there to salvage.”
“There’s always something there to salvage, Corinne. No one is all bad. Are you going to tell Toby about this?”
“No. There’s no point.”
“He wants to help Jeremy. He might want to talk to him.”
“Toby wants to help the world, or at least this little corner of it. He thinks sheriff is synonymous with Divine Protector.”
Becca laughed. “I think you should tell him anyway.”
“Jeremy hasn’t broken any laws here.”
“Still, he cares about the boy and wants to help him.”
Jeremy would probably feel betrayed if she went to Toby about school business. He’d feel that everyone was ganging up on him.
This was stupid, she told herself. Jeremy was the one who’d done something wrong, not her. She didn’t have to treat him with kid gloves.
So, why was she going to? she asked herself. Because she didn’t want him to think she was intimidated by his essay? Because she didn’t want to acknowledge that anything anyone could say or think about the shooting could affect her?
Or because she thought she might know what he was going through, having his whole world bottom out in one moment?
She wrinkled her nose and shook her head. “No. That really would be making too big a deal out of it, getting the law involved.”
Becca shrugged. “Okay. But if anything else comes up, let me know. We teachers have to stick together, you know.”
Corinne laughed lightly. “I’m not a teacher. I’m just a sub who doesn’t have a clue what’s going on.”
“I’ll let you in on a little secret. Sometimes none of us can figure out what’s going on. You ready to grab some lunch?”
Corinne decided early on that since she wasn’t staying long in Aloma, she wouldn’t socialize with the other teachers. She had only entered the teachers’ lounge today to grab a quick cup of coffee and to find Becca. “I brought something from home. I’ll just eat at my desk and grade papers. Besides, I don’t have much of an appetite left.”
“I’m not going to argue with a woman who forgoes frozen fish sticks and Mrs. Meddlar’s long-winded opinion of the decline of rural civilization.”
Corinne sat at her desk as Becca left. She sighed and leaned back, trying to read the essay in front of her from an editor’s standpoint. An editor with a strong stomach.
Actually, the writing was quite good, if she overlooked the theme. There were no glaring grammatical errors. It flowed well, and he stayed focused on the theme, gruesome as it was. And it was accurate, she knew that for a fact. She said so at the bottom of the page, complimenting Jeremy on his use of active verbs and descriptive adjectives. She even went so far as to say he had a good imagination and should think about entering some of the school writing contests. The only real criticism she gave was that he should try to think of a more original topic.
She chewed her lip, wondering if she’d done the right thing.
And she thought this job was going to be easier on her mind than investigative journalism. What a joke.
Toby was having a bad day. First thing in the morning, Clyde Cummings had called to say someone had stolen his riding lawn mower. Toby knew damn well no one had stolen his lawn mower, and was about to tell Clyde that, when he looked out the window and saw Mr. Davis riding it down the street.
So he’d had to chase Mr. Davis down the road. Mr. Davis acted as if it were the most logical thing in the world to be driving someone else’s lawn mower down the street.
“You are the one who forbade me to drive, Mr. Haskell. How do you expect me to get around?” Mr. Davis had asked imperiously.
“Why would you steal Clyde’s lawn mower, though?” Toby countered as he led Mr. Davis back to his home.
“Because I have a push mower. No point in even trying to ride that thing.” Mr. D. had looked at Toby as if he were a bit slow.
After that episode and two trips to Mrs. Kirby’s house, reassuring her that no one had any reason to break into her house and adjust the color on her television set, he had gone to the feed store. Inside, Billy Malone and Scott Tooley were arguing hotly about which feed was better for Herefords. Toby had walked up just in time to mediate.
“Tell that ignorant SOB he couldn’t ranch his way out of a paper bag!” Billy had told Toby.
“You tell him that if he’s so damn smart, why’s all his cows look like they been dragged behind an 18-wheeler for twenty miles?” Scott yelled.
Billy swung at Scott. Scott swung back. Toby got so sick of the idiots that he’d arrested them both for disturbing the peace. It took fifteen minutes to convince them both he was serious.
Now, five hours later, he sat with his elbows on his desk, massaging his temples and trying to ignore the ruckus the two men were putting up in the cell.
“You let me out of here right now, Haskell, or I’ll call my lawyer.”
Toby leaned back in his swivel chair and propped his booted feet on the scarred desktop. He picked up a letter opener and began tapping it against his knee.
“You don’t have a lawyer, Malone, so just shut up. Your wife makes the bail, I’ll be happy to get rid of your whiny butt.”
The problem was, neither Billy’s nor Scott’s wives seemed particularly interested in bailing the guys out. In fact, they rather liked the idea of a night without the men.
One good thing had come out of the mess: the two men in the cell now had a common enemy and were in the process of working out their differences.
It was really starting to hack Toby off. His official title ought to be Baby-sitter, not Sheriff. He couldn’t even convince his inmates he was serious. First, Mr. Davis, then Mrs. Kirby. And now these two jokers, who were more amazed that he’d have the nerve to actually ar
rest them than they were intimidated at his power.
It was no wonder Corinne didn’t take him seriously. No one did. In all the years his father had been sheriff, Toby couldn’t remember anyone laughing at him when he told them they were under arrest.
Toby tossed a deck of cards into the cell and went out to the Dairy Queen to get them some dinner.
He was still thinking about Corinne as he drove down the quiet Aloma streets. That big shot producer she’d married probably had all kinds of power and prestige. Aside from the fact that he was undoubtedly a jerk—a judgment Toby felt perfectly qualified to make even though he’d never laid eyes on the man—Corinne had probably been impressed with his position. After all, he didn’t go around all day trying to coddle old ladies and busting up fights between men old enough to know better.
He was driving back with three orders of steak fingers when he saw Carl Buchanan and his gang hanging out in the grocery store parking lot They were loud, but the store was closed and they weren’t loud enough to be bothering anyone. He started to pass them by.
A few of them yelled a greeting and waved to him. He sourly tossed back a wave and kept driving.
Then, from the corner of his eye, he saw a beer bottle being tossed into the bed of a pickup.
He turned the Jeep around and headed back.
“You guys having a good time?” He put his Stetson on and stepped out of the Jeep. There were probably fifteen guys in all, and a couple of girls. All of them were kids Toby knew well. They weren’t afraid of him. They were too drunk to care much about anything. Hell, most of them didn’t even bother to hide their bottles.
Carl nodded. “We’re doing okay, how ’bout you?”
Toby nodded. “I’m doing pretty good, ’cept I’m gonna have to bust you all for drinking. Anybody here not a minor, raise your hand.”
The group snickered. A couple of hands were raised, but Toby knew they were all under eighteen.
“Okay, you’re all under arrest for drinking in a public parking lot, minors in possession of an alcoholic substance, et cetera. We’ll work out the details at the station. You guys wait here while I call Luke.”
