Set the Dark on Fire

by Jill Sorenson

  “Don’t question him without me,” he warned, his pulse racing. “I’ll be at the station in a few minutes.”

  “That’s affirmative,” Garrett said. “Over and out.”

  The next ten minutes were the longest of her life. On the way to the hospital this morning, she’d imagined what would happen to Dylan if she died, and tears had sprung to her eyes.

  Now she sat next to Luke in terrified silence, so worried she felt nauseous. She was furious with her brother for putting her through this kind of turmoil. Why was he so determined to throw his life away?

  Luke didn’t say anything, but he seemed as tense as she was. He drove too fast on the bumpy dirt road, jostling them inside the cab. When they arrived at the sheriff’s station, she jumped out of his truck and hurried toward the front door, her heart pounding with anxiety and her hands clenched into fists.

  Inside, her little brother was sitting at a desk across from Garrett Snell, his hands cuffed behind his back and his eyes brimming with defiance. Upon sight of his torn, dirty T-shirt, and the blood smeared across his chin, her anger didn’t evaporate.

  It just transferred.

  Garrett Snell’s uniform was also dirty, but his face was unmarred and his expression smug. He was leaning back in his chair with his arms crossed over his barrel chest, a position that emphasized his considerable bulk.

  Garrett was a bully as a kid, a husband, and a police officer. Shay couldn’t let him get away with it a second longer.

  “You black-hearted bastard,” she said in a low growl, advancing on him. She didn’t slap at him wildly or unsheathe her claws; she just grabbed him by the shirt collar, drew back her fist, and punched him square in the mouth.

  Pain exploded from her knuckles upon impact. Garrett shoved her backward, sending her flying across the room. Dylan rose to his feet and shouted in protest, almost knocking over the table in front of him. Luke caught her around the waist and held her still.

  “How dare you put your hands on him!” she said to Garrett, struggling to break free.

  Garrett touched his fingertips to his lips, finding blood there. “He was running,” he said in a cold voice. “I had to take him down.”

  When she looked at Dylan, he nodded, corroborating the story. She felt some of the fight leave her body. “Why would you run?”

  “Because I’m guilty. Why else?”

  “Oh, Dylan,” she said, her disbelief tinged with defeat. Luke’s grip on her changed, supporting rather than restraining her.

  “Keep that crazy bitch away from me,” Garrett warned, rubbing his jaw. “I didn’t do anything wrong.”

  “Except grind your knee into my fucking neck,” Dylan said.

  Shay’s vision narrowed, and she made another fist.

  “Let’s all just settle down for a minute,” Luke said. “Shay, if you can’t promise to stay calm, I’ll have to ask you to leave the room.”

  She tried to jerk her arm from his grasp, but he held tight. “You’re not allowed to interview my brother without my permission!”

  “Actually, I am, in this situation.”

  She glared at him, her chest rising and falling with agitation. He stared back at her. Faced with no other choice, she gave her consent.

  “Go on and sit over there by Dylan.”

  When he released her, she walked slowly around the perimeter of the table, her eyes on Garrett. All but baring her teeth, she sat down next to Dylan.

  Luke turned to Garrett. “I would recommend that you consider your words, and your actions, very carefully from now on.”

  Garrett’s dark gaze moved from Luke to Shay, assessing their body language in his cold, calculating way. He knew what was going on between them. “Those FBI guys might want to sit in on this interview,” he said. It was a thinly veiled threat.

  Luke made a show of considering the idea. “I think you’re right,” he said, nodding. “They’ll probably be interested in that conversation we had about Yesenia Montes the other day, too. Let’s call them in.”

  Whatever dirt Luke had on Garrett, it must have been good, because the stocky deputy shut up and sat down.

  Luke took the seat next to him. “Did you read him the Miranda?”

  “Yes,” Garrett said. “Although I can’t be certain a kid with a mouth like that understands the right to remain silent.”

  Luke kept his focus on Dylan, refusing to let Garrett’s sarcasm affect him. “Did you get a job on the construction site at Los Coyotes?”

  Dylan frowned, as if he hadn’t anticipated that particular question. “Yeah. I started yesterday.”

  “How’d that work out?”

  “Okay, I guess.”

  “Did you see Bull Ryan?”

  “Only for a second, when I first got there.”

  “Not before you left?”

  He hesitated. “No. I went to the office to say goodbye, but he was already talking to someone else.”

  “Who?”

  He glanced at Shay. “Jesse.”

  “Did you listen in?”

  The corner of his mouth tipped up. “I might’ve heard some stuff.”

  “Like what?”

  “Money trouble. Woman trouble.” He gave an insouciant shrug. “Whatever.”

  “Was the conversation friendly?”

  “Not really. But it wasn’t, like, antagonistic. Just your typical Jesse Ryan bullshit.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “That he got what he wanted without much resistance.”

  Luke’s eyes went to Shay’s, clearly reading Dylan’s implication that she was also something Jesse had had without much resistance. “A loan?”

  “I guess,” he replied. “Why are we talking about him anyway?”

  Instead of answering, Luke looked at Garrett, who slid a clear plastic bag across the surface of the table. Inside, there was a hunting knife with a blade that folded down, making it easy to carry or conceal in the palm of a hand.

  When she saw it, Shay’s heart broke for her brother a little bit more.

  Their dad hadn’t been big on macho gifts, being a consummate pacifist who disdained material things, but he’d given that knife to Dylan on his tenth birthday. He hadn’t been big on family vacations either, but damned if he hadn’t taken her and Dylan to the Kern River that year, just weeks before she left for college.

  “Every man should know how to clean a fish,” he’d said, handing Dylan the shiny new knife. He’d been standing on the wet rocks along the riverbank, blond hair glinting in the late-day sun, holding a flopping trout on a short line.

  Remembering the look of wonder in Dylan’s eyes as he turned the knife in his hands, she now felt tears burn in her own. At the time, she’d been jealous of their easy male camaraderie. What she wouldn’t give now for a dozen more moments like that.

  Damn you, Daddy. Why’d you leave?

  “Any particular reason you were carrying this?” Luke asked.

  Dylan rolled his shoulders and winced, straining against the uncomfortable position. “Let’s get real. You know what I did. I know what I did. You want me to sign something, fine. Take off these frigging cuffs and I’ll sign whatever you want me to.”

  Luke’s brows rose. “You will?”

  “No,” Shay said, fear twisting her insides. “He won’t sign anything. He doesn’t know what he’s talking about. Dylan—”

  Her brother ignored her. “I’m guilty, okay? I used the knife to commit a crime and I’d do it again. I enjoyed it. And that stupid jock deserved it. I’d rather have blown up his engine, that would have been cool, or busted out the taillights—”

  “Hang on,” Luke said, holding a hand up. “You would have busted out whose taillights?”

  “Chad’s,” he said, looking at the faces around him in confusion. “That’s why you picked me up, right? Because I slashed his tires.”

  Shay let out a slow, pent-up breath. She wanted to slide under the table and crumple into a little heap of relief.

  “You sl
ashed Chad Pinter’s tires,” Luke repeated, leaning back in his chair.

  “Yeah. What’d you think? That I killed somebody?”

  “This is crazy,” Garrett muttered, standing. “I can’t believe you’re buying this. The other day I caught him out on the rez with a backpack full of stuff to make pipe bombs. He’s a menace to society.”

  Shay gasped. One glance at Dylan, whose face was pale with guilt, told her Garrett spoke the truth.

  “Sit down, Garrett,” Luke returned, his tone mild but his eyes intense.

  The CB radio at the deputy’s thick waist sounded, saving him from having to comply. It was the dispatch operator, phoning in a vandalism complaint from Chuck Pinter. After Garrett responded with a 10-4, the room fell into a charged silence.

  “I’ll take care of it,” Luke said.

  Garrett recognized the statement for what it was: a curt dismissal.

  The deputy didn’t reply to the rebuke, but he was in many ways a devious man, a plotter rather than a protester. Shay knew Luke was going to have nothing but trouble from him for the rest of their working days.

  With a stiff nod, Garrett tossed the keys to his handcuffs on the table and left.

  Luke watched him go, contemplating Garrett’s perversity with narrowed eyes. Once the deputy was out of sight, Luke turned back to Dylan. “You saw him on Los Coyotes?”

  “Yeah.”

  “When?”

  Dylan gulped. “Sunday. And that pipe bomb stuff was just an experiment. Like a science project. I wouldn’t use it to hurt anyone.”

  Shay knew her little brother had issues, but she’d never imagined he would put his life in danger by messing around with homemade explosives.

  “Did he hit you?” Luke asked.

  Dylan rubbed the side of his mouth against the fabric of his T-shirt. “No. He tackled me from behind and the ground said hello to my face.”

  “Has he ever hit you?”

  When he paused, Shay wished a thousand miseries on Garrett Snell. “No,” he said, and she knew he was lying.

  So did Luke, but he didn’t press further. Instead, he opened the evidence bag and let the knife slide out, unfolding the handle and examining the blade. He must have been satisfied with what he saw, because he stood and unlocked the cuffs at Dylan’s wrists. “I have to take that vandalism call,” he said, excusing himself.

  “What the hell happened?” Dylan asked after Luke was out of earshot.

  “Somebody scalped Bull Ryan.”

  His face went white beneath the layers of grime, making the dried blood on his chin stand out in harsh relief. “Is he dead?”

  “Yes.”

  “Holy shit.”

  If she’d had any doubts about her brother’s innocence, they were erased by the stunned expression he wore. Dylan often hid his feelings from her, and he wasn’t always honest, but there was no artifice in his reaction to Bull’s death.

  She rose to her feet, grabbing a tiny plastic cup from the receptacle and filling it from the water cooler. “Here,” she said, and he downed it in one gulp.

  “More?”

  “Yeah.”

  Shay was relieved that he hadn’t been involved in whatever had gone down on the construction site, and thankful that he seemed relatively unharmed, but she was still furious with him for making pipe bombs. And slashing Chad’s tires.

  How could he pull such a lame-brained stunt? And why now, when he was so close to graduation?

  Too angry to speak, she crossed her arms over her chest and waited for Luke to get off the phone. “The Pinters aren’t sure they want to press charges,” he said. “They’d like to meet us at the café to discuss the situation. I said I would mediate.”

  Shay almost wilted with relief. She sent Luke a silent thank you, because she knew how lucky Dylan was to get a chance to make amends. “Are you going to confiscate that?” she asked, looking down at the knife on the table.

  Luke hesitated. “I wouldn’t recommend he bring it to school again. If Chad’s car had been in the school parking lot, instead of across the street, your brother would be on his way to juvenile hall right now.”

  Shay pocketed the knife. “What do you have to say for yourself?”

  Dylan ran a hand along the line of his jaw, feeling for tenderness. “Good thing I wasn’t on school property?”

  24

  Shay fumed all the way to the Bighorn. Chad Pinter was a major pain in the ass, and she hated his parents, but she would make nice with them for Dylan’s sake.

  The Pinters were already inside the café, chowing down on Betty’s after-school special: burger, shake, and fries. At least, Chad and his father were. They had their plates piled high with greasy goodies, while the missus picked at a leafy green salad.

  Chuck Pinter was the full-time football coach and part-time Driver’s Ed teacher at Palomar High School. He had a take-charge attitude, ham-sized fists, and a burly physique. Marianne Pinter was pretty, petite, and very well preserved. Her slim jeans and tight T-shirt showed off her surgically enhanced chest and skinny legs to perfection.

  They hadn’t met Luke before, so Chuck did the introductions. When Marianne placed her dainty hand in his, she gave him a thorough once-over and fluttered her lashes.

  Shay gritted her teeth and smiled.

  After everyone was seated, Luke glanced at Shay, letting the mediation begin.

  “I’d like to start by apologizing,” Shay said. “I’m horrified by Dylan’s behavior.”

  Marianne pursed her lips as if she’d just sucked on a lemon. Chad stared back at Shay with his usual half-lidded gaze, imagining God only knew what kind of disgusting sexual scenarios. Chuck merely grunted and took another bite of his burger.

  “Dylan also has something to say,” Shay added.

  Dylan placed a hand over his heart. “I am truly, deeply, madly sorry.”

  Keeping her smile firm, Shay kicked him under the table. “I’ll pay for any damages. New tires, towing fees, the works.”

  Marianne’s face puckered again. “I’m afraid that won’t be good enough,” she said, giving Luke a simpering glance. “Dylan won’t learn his lesson if you keep bailing him out, Shay. Surely you know that.”

  Shay arched a brow. If Marianne Pinter wanted to play hardball with her, she was more than willing to engage. “What do you propose?”

  Marianne lifted her snooty little nose in her husband’s direction. “He can work off what he owes us in our backyard. Chuck has plenty of digging and hauling to keep Dylan busy.”

  Shay’s temper flared. She’d rather give what little cash she had to the Pinters than have her brother doing their dirty work. “Will Chad be doing yard work also?”

  Marianne bristled. “Of course not. What’s he done?”

  With his loud car, expensive clothes, and entitled attitude, Chad Pinter was the most spoiled kid in Tenaja Falls. “That’s what I’d like to know,” she said, turning toward her brother. “I don’t think Dylan slashed his tires on a whim.”

  Dylan slouched down in his chair and looked away, refusing to offer an explanation for his actions.

  “Perhaps he’s jealous,” Marianne said. “Chad is a star quarterback.”

  “Dylan is a starting forward,” Shay shot back.

  Marianne’s mouth curled up at the corner. “My son also has a loving family and a stable home life. Have you given Dylan that?”

  Shay’s jaw dropped. She drew in a breath to tell Marianne where to go, but Dylan beat her to the punch.

  “I’ll tell you what else Chad has that I don’t,” he said in a cool voice. “An extensive collection of adult movies, downloaded on that fancy new computer you bought him. He brings printouts of his favorite images to school.”

  “Shut up,” Chad grated, gripping the edge of the table.

  “Today he was circulating a picture of a porn star with my sister’s face superimposed over her head.” After brief consideration, he dug a wadded up piece of paper out of his pocket. “Check it out.”
/>   Shay looked down at the image and gasped. “Why, you filthy little—”

  When Luke put his hand on her shoulder, she bit off the word she was about to say. After a brief glance at the printout, he passed the page on to Chad’s father. “I’m fairly certain that bringing this kind of material to school is against the rules. It may even be illegal.”

  “You have no proof that my son did this,” Marianne sputtered.

  “Sure I do,” Dylan said. “I know the combination to his locker and the password for his laptop. I’m also familiar with the websites he frequents and the content he prefers.”

  The Pinters were speechless, and Chad was seething, but Dylan wasn’t done. “It’s kind of obvious the lady in the picture isn’t Shay. You see, in addition to his bond age fetish, Chad collects photos of busty older women. Ladies who are built like you, Mrs. P.” He smiled at Marianne’s appalled expression. “It’s terribly Oedipal, don’t you think?”

  Luke made a choking sound and reached for his glass of water.

  While Chad stuttered excuses and Marianne turned red with humiliation, Chuck dug a few bills out of his wallet and threw them down on the table. “Just keep your brother away from my kid,” he said, pointing his finger at Shay. Clamping his hand around Marianne’s arm, he led her away, continuing to grumble as they went out the door. “Should have known the sheriff would side with her. She’ll probably thank him on her knees.”

  Over his shoulder, Chad couldn’t resist making a crude gesture, thrusting his tongue against the side of his cheek.

  Dylan shot to his feet, but Luke held him back.

  “Assholes,” Shay muttered when they’d settled down in their seats again. They all looked at each other, and perhaps because the day had been so harrowing, the situation struck her as hilarious rather than sad. She started laughing, and once she started, she couldn’t stop. Dylan laughed along with her, and it must have been contagious, because even Luke joined in.

  “I can’t believe you told Marianne Pinter her son had an Oedipus complex,” she gasped, wiping tears from her eyes.

  “Too bad she doesn’t know what that means,” Dylan replied, and set them off again.

  Her stress level had reached its breaking point, and the laughter relieved some of the tension that had been escalating all week. It also opened the door for another outpouring of emotion, and before Shay knew it, she was crying.