The Bad Boy of Butterfly Harbor

by Anna J. Stewart

  “Luke, that’s not why I’m crying,” she whispered, but her father’s voice cut between them, jostling her out of whatever memory she was lost in.

  “You two coming?” Jake yelled.

  Luke sidestepped Holly, unable to look at the disappointment and grief on her face; the same expression he’d seen that night at the hospital. The same expression that had haunted him every day since. This time, when she called his name, he didn’t acknowledge her.

  He kept walking.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  “SHERIFF SAXON?” THE MAN heading toward him reminded Luke of an aged-out teen heartthrob. A tad on the burly side, with close-cropped hair and a neatly trimmed beard, he had a bit of a limp and took careful steps toward the front of the police station. “Matt Knight.” He extended his hand. “You left a message on my voice mail about my missing forty-five?”

  “Good to meet you.” Luke shook his offered hand. “I would have been happy to come to you.”

  “Nah.” Luke caught the hint of a Louisiana accent as he led him inside. “I needed an excuse to get out of the house. I would have been by sooner, but I’ve been visiting family down south. As soon as I heard your message I headed over. Glad my gun finally turned up.”

  Luke lifted the pass-through and gestured to Knight to follow. Knight scanned the room and the two deputies with a graze of his eyes Luke recognized all too well. Even if Luke didn’t know Matt Knight was ex-military, he’d have pegged him as a vet of some sort. He’d seen enough of them come through the force in Chicago.

  Cash left his chosen backup position at Ozzy’s desk to pad in behind them, giving Luke one of his “I didn’t think you were coming back” expressions.

  “Nice pooch,” Knight said. Cash’s ears perked up, no doubt understanding a compliment when he heard one, and the dog quirked his head as if waiting for more.

  “When did your tour end?” Luke closed the door to his office. He motioned for Knight to take a seat. Cash followed, plopping down between them.

  “Am I that obvious or are you that good?” Knight grinned. “Army. Ten years, two tours in Iraq.” He sat and then patted his leg. Metal clinked. “IED took out the truck I was riding in. Sent me stateside minus a few parts.”

  “Sorry to hear that.” Luke sat behind his desk.

  Knight shrugged, but there was no hiding the telltale after-war haunt Luke had seen in so many soldiers. “I was lucky. A lot of my buddies came back worse off—some didn’t come back at all. At least now people hear me coming.” Knight flexed his knee and Luke heard a gentle squeak. “What about you? Air force?” Knight held up a hand when Luke started to answer. “Nah. You look like a navy guy to me. Well, I won’t hold it against you.” Knight stretched out his legs and folded his hands on his stomach. “How long were you in?”

  “I did six years, then followed up with the bomb squad in Chicago for a while.” When was his stomach going to stop lurching whenever he thought about Chicago?

  “So about my gun.” Knight scrubbed a hand across his beard. “My former CO would kick my hide into the next century for not securing it better. I guess locked in a drawer in the garage wasn’t the best place.”

  “Lockbox in your closet would be better,” Luke said. “Any idea when it was taken?”

  “Could have been anytime in the past year.” Knight shifted and dug out his wallet, then handed over a worn piece of paper. “Brought it back with me, but haven’t had the need for it since. Truth be told, didn’t really want to see it again. I only kept it because it was kind of my good-luck piece over there. You know?” His eyes took on that heavy, shadowed look.

  “I know.” Luke had his own good-luck piece, but it was more a reminder of survival than something that went bang. “Glad I can return it to you.” Luke stood and unlocked the file cabinet behind him.

  “Man, you are good,” Knight said as Luke set the gun on his desk. “Any idea who stole it?”

  Luke added the clip and extra bullet he’d emptied from the gun when he’d stashed it. “I found it in a backpack belonging to Kyle Winters. He’d left it behind when he’d been squatting at the Flutterby.”

  “Abby’s place?” Knight’s face lost some color. “Oh, man, no one was hurt, were they?”

  “No, they’re fine. I figure the kid was carrying it for protection. Whether he’s the one who stole it or not, I’ll ask him when we find him.”

  “Winters.” Knight chewed the inside of his cheek. “I know that name. Kid’s father wouldn’t be a bleached-blond action-movie-reject kinda guy, would he? Hangs out at the Dirty Rose outside town?”

  Luke nodded. “He’s currently in county jail waiting on his prelim hearing for assault.”

  “Nasty piece of work there. I’m guessing the apple didn’t fall far from the tree?”

  “I’d love to be able to tell you,” Luke admitted. “Kyle’s got a record, not too bad, but it’s getting there. When I arrested his father, the kid clocked me before I could even cuff dear old dad.” The slice in his head throbbed as if waiting to be mentioned.

  “Probably putting one in the bank for when his old man gets home.” Knight cringed.

  Luke quirked his head, narrowed his eyes.

  “It’s what I would have done,” Knight explained. “When my father let loose on me, if someone tried to help, it was better to go after that person and make it look as if I was defending him. Good favor for later, if you get my meaning.”

  That was exactly the reason Luke hadn’t pursued any charges against Kyle. “Sounds as though your father and mine had a lot in common.”

  “Well mine’s fifteen years in the ground. You?”

  “Eight.” Not nearly long enough.

  “Always told myself I’d drink a fifth and dance on the old man’s grave,” Knight said. “I did the dance. Skipped the Scotch.”

  “Yeah, me, too.” Luke would always skip the Scotch. “I’ll go ahead and write up a report on returning the gun to its rightful owner, get this off the books.”

  “Sounds good.” He picked up the firearm and ammunition as he got to his feet. “Appreciate the help. Let me know if I can return the favor sometime.”

  “Where’re you working?” Luke pushed himself up.

  “Odd jobs here and there.” Knight shrugged. “Nothing steady. Why? You lookin’ to hire?” His expression told Luke he was kidding, but Luke wasn’t.

  “I’ve been given a discretionary budget. I was thinking about hiring a part-time receptionist, but if you’re looking for extra work, I can do with another deputy. You interested? Provided you pass the background check.”

  “I’d pass with flying colors, man.” Knight blinked away his shock. “It’d be great to have a steady job again.” His excitement faded as he glanced down at his leg. “You sure you want me on board?”

  “We all have our scars,” Luke said. “They might help make us who we are, but they don’t define us. It’s not as if we have a lot of foot chases in town. Give me your Social and we’ll go from there.”

  “Excellent.” Knight grabbed a sticky note and scribbled his name and Social Security number along with his cell number. “Do I get one of those?” He pointed at Cash and the dog’s ears perked.

  “Afraid not,” Luke said. “He’s one of a kind.”

  * * *

  “SHERIFF LUKE, COME HERE!”

  Luke lugged yet another load of trash out the back door of the youth center. The cleanup was never ending, but finally, after four days, Tuesday dawned with promise that the final phase—fresh paint on the walls—would be done by the end of the day. Progress.

  “What’s up, Simon?” Luke unlocked the padlock on the trash can as Matt hefted his own two trash bags out.

  “You said to let you know if I saw him. Kyle Winters.” Simon pointed over the rock wall. “There. Down at the sh
oreline.”

  “Okay.” Luke pushed Simon’s hand down, appreciating the enthusiasm, but they had to work on the boy’s stealth skills. “We talked about this, Simon. I know you and Kyle don’t get along—”

  “He hates me. He hates everyone,” Simon added. “He’s a bad guy.”

  “Not everyone is bad or good, kid,” Matt said before Luke could find the words. “You never know what’s going on in a person’s life. Sometimes being bad is the only means by which they can get by.”

  “Huh?” Simon scrunched his face up. “What does that mean?”

  “It means be grateful you don’t have to live Kyle’s life.” Relief from finally locating Kyle nearly brought Luke to his knees. His blood pumped faster as he glanced in Kyle’s direction before securing the trash can. “Kid’s been hiding pretty well up until now.”

  “Maybe he’s ready to be found,” Matt said.

  “Maybe.” Luke debated his next move. In the days since Kyle had whacked him over the head, Luke had played out a number of scenarios as to how he’d approach Kyle when the time came. Right now, none of those ideas rang as ideal. Still... Luke squinted into the late-afternoon sun. Kyle knew he was being watched. He went from full slouch to metal-spine stiff that even from this distance had Luke flinching in sympathy. But the teenager didn’t move. More to his credit, he didn’t run. “Might as well see what’s what.” Luke removed his belt, which held his gun and Taser, and handed it to Matt as he stepped over the back stone wall. “Simon, you stay with Deputy Knight.”

  “But I’m a junior deputy,” Simon protested, pointing to the miniature badge Luke had found online. “And I’ve been running surveillance on him for ages. I found him!”

  “Then, file a report at the station.” Luke wished he’d come up with that idea sooner. Then again, putting Simon in front of a police-station computer made him queasy. “I’ll read it when I’m done.”

  “Okay.” Simon’s reply seemed less than happy, but he hustled inside as Luke headed down to the shoreline.

  “You want me to stick around in case?” Matt called.

  “No. I’ve got this.” And for some reason, he knew he did. Kyle was watching him, the apprehension on the teen’s face becoming clearer the closer Luke got to him. And despite a few flash moments of seeing which direction he could run, Kyle stood his ground, fists clenched at his sides as Luke approached, Cash right beside him.

  Instead of speaking, instead of looming over the boy, Luke veered to the right and took a seat on a sizable piece of driftwood, hands in sight, casting his gaze between the ocean and Kyle.

  “Heard you’re looking for me.”

  Luke heard a slight squeak in Kyle’s voice, as if he didn’t have as much control over it as he’d like. He picked up a sand-covered stick and threw it for Cash to retrieve. The dog bounded off.

  “I have been for a while.” Luke pointed at his head. “We have some things to discuss.”

  Kyle’s Adam’s apple gyrated in his throat. “You gonna arrest me?”

  Luke propped his elbows on his knees. “No.”

  “Why not?” Shock and distrust mingled on his pale, narrow face. His stance remained firm, his feet planted, as if bracing for a fight, and his hands clenched and released in time to Luke’s pulse. “You’re a cop. I cut you bad.”

  “That you did.” Luke watched Cash race back with the stick in his mouth, but instead of returning it to Luke, he went over and dropped it at Kyle’s feet, panting. “You sorry about hitting me?”

  “Why would I be sorry?” But Kyle’s gaze skittered, as if the thought hadn’t occurred to him. Cash’s actions had apparently confused him because he backed away from the stick and dog. “I did what I had to do. You were beating on my father.”

  “That wasn’t a beating, Kyle.” Not the one he’d wanted to give Rex Winters anyway. “He’s still in jail, in case you were wondering.”

  “I wasn’t. Doesn’t matter anyway. She’ll just bail him out again.” For a fraction of a second, the teenage Kyle disappeared and Luke saw himself in the ragged jeans and worn sweatshirt, as attitude, ambivalence and longing radiated off a malnourished, bruised body. “She always bails him out.”

  “I used to bail my old man out,” Luke said. “Seemed to be the best way to avoid any punishment he might see fit to dole out. It was how I convinced him I was on his side. Even though I wasn’t. Know what I mean?”

  Kyle pinned Luke with an icy stare and eventually he nodded, his flattened blond hair looking almost platinum in the sun.

  “We survive by any means we can, Kyle. You ever heard of Ward Saxon?”

  Kyle’s eyes widened before he gave a sharp nod.

  “Yeah.” Bile rose in Luke’s throat as he spoke his father’s name for the first time in years. Whatever punishment Kyle might deserve, whatever wrongs he’d committed, he needed to know—Luke needed him to know—that he wasn’t alone. “Ward Saxon was my father. Never met a bottle he didn’t like, and he took that need out on me just about every day of my life. Until I was big enough to fight back.”

  “What did you do?”

  “Beat him with a metal bat.” The confession was like opening a new wound, only this one didn’t bleed. This one sizzled in cauterized relief. “Scared him senseless. Didn’t seem enough, though. After all those years he’d scared me. But every once in a while, I remember that look in his eyes, that fear.” And he’d reveled in it. “That why you took Matt Knight’s gun?”

  Kyle frowned. “I’m not a thief,” he spat. “My father took that gun. I took it from him so no one would mess with me. What are you going to do?”

  “You mean about you?” Luke did his best to look surprised even as he processed that bit of information. Rex Winters had a thing for guns. Great. “I’m going to give you a chance to make things right. With me, for yourself and your future. You’ve been hanging around here the past couple of days. Watching what’s going on over there.” Luke glanced over his shoulder at the youth center.

  Kyle shrugged.

  “You and me, we’re going to come to an understanding, Kyle. I’m going to forget about the bottle you cracked over my head and that gun you never should have had, and you’re going to help me and Jake Gordon get this youth center off the ground. You show up, you help, you leave the attitude outside and you become a productive member of this town. You do that and I’ll delete the report I wrote up charging you with assaulting a police officer and possessing stolen property. You don’t want to spend years in JD do you? Lose what’s left of your childhood because of actions you’re wishing you could take back?”

  Kyle shook his head, but only for a moment before the suspicion appeared to resurface. “Why?”

  “Why what?”

  “Why do you care?” The anger radiating off this kid could have powered a small country.

  “Because someone has to.” Luke got to his feet, brushed off his pants. “You’ve got until Friday afternoon to decide. There’s a van coming to take a bunch of kids camping for the weekend. Up at Milkweed Lake. You’re welcome to join.”

  Kyle gave him a quick nod. Luke took it as a promising sign.

  “Be at the youth center by three o’clock. You be ready to work and make some changes. Otherwise I’ll issue a warrant for your arrest. Understand me?”

  Kyle nodded, his already pale face going a shade paler.

  “You have someplace safe to go? Food?”

  “I got a place.” The defensive tone did nothing to hide the lie.

  “You need food, you go by the Butterfly Diner. No strings. No obligation. Holly will make sure you’re taken care of. One thing, Kyle. Whatever you decide to do from this day on is on you. You accept this deal, it’s you accepting responsibility for your actions. And your future. It’s a second chance. Don’t blow it.”

  * * *

  HOLLY
DID THE waiting wiggle jiggle as she debated knocking on Luke’s door late Wednesday afternoon. She may as well have been doing the Texas two-step for as much dancing around as she was doing.

  Oh, this probably wasn’t a good idea. Visiting Luke at this house, which appeared as if it had survived a military assault, bringing him a peace offering and hopefully putting some things to rest once and for all had consumed her thoughts for longer than she wanted to admit.

  She’d been skeptical Kyle would accept the offer Luke told her he’d made to the boy. Since when was Luke Saxon enough of an optimist to put a good chunk of cash on account at the diner should Kyle come in for a meal? But that was exactly what had happened last night. By the time Kyle left before closing, he’d gobbled down two burgers, an order of fries, a shake and an ice-cream sundae. Poor kid ate as if he hadn’t seen food in a month.

  When she’d mentioned it to her father, Jake said something about paying it forward before he changed the subject.

  Holly bit her lip. Should she leave the pie on the porch with a note? Yeah. She didn’t need to be here, but she hadn’t been able to stop thinking about Luke—and what he’d told her about her father’s accident—for the past couple of days. Or the grief and regret she had seen on his face as he told his side of the story. Maybe he didn’t want to see her again and be reminded of what her questions had brought up. Yes. She was going to set the pie right here on this little wooden table next to the chair and...

  “Holly?”

  She yelped and swung around as Luke circled from the side of the house and stopped at the base of the stairs. “Jeez, what is it with you men? First Simon takes ten years off my life, now you steal another five.” Her laugh rang like nervous energy to her ears as she stepped off the porch and into the overgrown yard. “What have you been doing?”

  He was filthy from his thick hair to the tips of boot-encased toes. The jeans and T-shirt he wore were as far from salvageable as Simon’s baseball uniform had been after trying to slide into home plate half a dozen times.