скачать книгу бесплатно
Cash’s fingers dug into Austin’s bony elbow. With a quiet yelp the boy came along.
On the way to the Sheriff’s office, Cash nodded to the people of Ordinary who passed them by. Austin hung his head and shuffled beside Cash.
Cash’s office sat between the small grocery store and Scotty’s Hardware. Seeing it filled Cash with pride.
In a backhanded way, Frank had inspired him to become a cop, if only to prove that it could be done in a better way.
That a man could be a good and honorable cop and make a difference to the people around him. That a man didn’t have to drive his way through every obstacle with the force of a Mack truck to get to the top. That a man didn’t have to want to get to the top. That a man could be happy in his job, just the way it was, just where it was.
Cash opened the office door and stepped inside, taking Austin with him. He nudged him into a chair in front of the desk.
Wade Hanlon came out of the washroom.
“Anything interesting happen last night?” Cash asked.
“Not a thing.”
Cash turned to Austin. “Stay put there for a minute. I need to talk to the deputy.”
Austin put his hands in his pockets and hunched his shoulders.
Cash gestured Wade toward the back of the room and asked quietly, “Did someone call from Billings asking about methamphetamines in Ordinary?”
“Yeah, that afternoon I took over while you went to the dentist. I told them we didn’t have that problem here.”
“Apparently, we do.”
“We do?” Wade looked surprised but also a tad sheepish. He probably didn’t like disappointing his new boss. “How do you know?”
“There’s a man in hospital in Billings who overdosed on meth he says he picked up here.”
“Do you think he’s telling the truth?”
“Yeah, I do. I know the guy. He’s a friend’s brother.”
Wade looked even more embarrassed. “Sorry, Sheriff. I had no idea.”
“In the future, let me know about those kinds of calls. I need to know everything that goes on around here. Everything. Got it?”
“Sure. Of course.”
“Keep your eyes and ears open around town. That meth is here somewhere.”
“Okay, boss.”
Wade stepped to the desk and opened a Styrofoam container from the diner. It held a couple of cinnamon buns. “Those’re for you. There’s fresh coffee. See you tonight. Seven, right?”
Cash and Wade worked opposite shifts.
Cash took Austin to the movies on Friday nights, so Hanlon came in an hour early.
After Wade left, Cash walked around the desk.
He noticed Austin’s gaze flicker to the cinnamon buns. Yeah, he’d have the munchies right now, from the marijuana. Looking at Austin’s thin face, he amended that.
“When was the last time your mom bought groceries?”
Austin shrugged and remained close-lipped. Cash had to admire his loyalty to his mom. In his own way, the kid had a lot of class. Connie Trumball wasn’t doing much of a job mothering her boy, but Cash had yet to hear Austin badmouth her.
Connie wasn’t a great mother, but she was Austin’s.
Cash took a can of ginger ale from a small refrigerator and handed it to him.
Austin looked up, surprised.
Sometimes Austin was so closed off he seemed encased in concrete. At other times, like right now, the boy had cellophane for skin. Cash got such a clear glimpse of Austin and his quiet suffering, of his settling for less in life that Cash wanted to hold him and whisper, wish for more, dream for more. Don’t settle. You deserve it.
“Take it,” Cash urged.
He slid a bun across the desk.
“Eat,” he ordered.
Austin hesitated, then picked up the sticky bun and took a huge bite. He licked icing from his fingers, then slurped loudly when he washed it down with ginger ale.
Cash pushed the second bun across the table. “I can’t eat this one, either. Want it?”
Austin shrugged, then took the box and dug into the second bun. When Austin finished he wiped his mouth with the dirty sleeve of his jacket. Cash cringed. That coat belonged in the garbage.
“Okay,” Cash said as he stood. “Let’s go.” Cash pointed toward the jail cell. “You commit the crime, you pay the price.”
Austin shot him an owl-eyed look of terror. He stood and swallowed, his little Adam’s apple bobbing in his thin throat.
“I have to go to school.”
“Not today.” He pointed toward the cell. “Go.”
Austin shuffled in and Cash locked the door behind him. He had more to say to Austin, but not until the boy had spent some time behind bars.
“Might as well sit,” Cash said. “You’re going to be here awhile.”
Austin sat on the narrow cot and stared at Cash with huge eyes.
“I have to go out,” Cash said. “Nap if you want. There’s a blanket on the chair.”
Austin shook out the folded blanket, then lay down and pulled it over himself, covering his old jacket, cheap running shoes and all. In a matter of minutes, he was out like a light.
Austin was a sweet kid in so many ways. Since his father’s death half a dozen years ago, though, the only attention he craved was a father’s.
Cash thought of his own dad. Staring at Austin brought home how much Cash had missed in his relationship with his own dad.
It didn’t seem right to never see Frank again.
What if yesterday was the last time Cash ever saw his dad? Panic drove fear through Cash’s blood. He’d always known that Dad was on this earth somewhere and it had felt right, even if only for Cash to feel righteous in ignoring his father.
But if Dad were gone? Truly gone? Dead? Not a trace of him left on this earth?
Cash couldn’t avoid the truth. It would hurt like hell.
A pressure had been building inside of Cash since that moment he had run after his father’s car yesterday. That pressure was the need to find his father, to talk to him again. Soon. How much time did Dad have left? Did Dad have enough money for proper medical care? To eat? To live out his dying days in dignity?
Austin stirred in his sleep and Cash thought of how much Austin would want to see his dad if he could, but fate had taken that option away from the kid.
Austin had no choice.
Cash did.
Cash didn’t want to waste whatever time was left with his dad. He needed to find his father before Frank died.
Decision made, Cash put on his cowboy hat and headed out the door, locking it behind him.
He forced himself to calm down. Right now, Austin needed him. There were things Cash had to do to take care of the boy.
His breath fogged in the cold Montana air. He knew full well it was a no-no for Big Brothers to buy their Littles gifts, but Austin needed so much. Cash would be damned if he’d let the boy freeze in that flimsy fall jacket.
If anyone didn’t like that he was providing essentials for Austin, they could sue him.
The irony of a cop breaking Big Brother “laws” didn’t escape Cash.
Before he bought anything, he had to go talk to Austin’s mom, to tell her where Austin was and why. He didn’t want to, though. She pushed his buttons, made him remember too much of those years when he’d had to take care of his own emotionally fragile mom.
He phoned her instead. He’d memorized her number in case something happened to Austin when he was out with Cash and Cash needed medical history.
When Connie answered the phone, Cash told her what he was doing with Austin today.
“Whatever you think is best, Sheriff.”
He disliked the tremor in her voice. He wanted her to make the important decisions about Austin’s life. They shouldn’t be left to a relative stranger. Cash wanted her to be the adult, the parent she should be, to give Austin the strength and guidance a kid like him deserved.
Cash visited the school next.
On the drive over he passed Mary Lou McCloskey driving in the opposite direction, speeding like a demon. Mary Lou, one of the sweetest women in town, knew better. He’d have a word with her at some point. At the moment, worried about drugs in the area getting into the hands of preteens, he needed to talk to the principal.
Ordinary Middle School sat on the edge of town. Once there, Cash spoke to Paul Hunt, the principal, explaining why Austin would be away today.
Twelve, thirteen and fourteen-year-old kids laughed and talked in the halls between classes.
“Any idea where Austin could have picked up the marijuana?” Cash asked.
“None. The kids here are pretty good, but you know weed’s a temptation for them. It’s easy enough to find.”
“There’s more. I’ve heard a rumor there are methamphetamines in the area. Have you seen any?”
“No, but that’s worrisome.” Paul had been leaning back in his chair but sat straighter now. “Meth is dangerous stuff.”
A boy ran down the hallway past the principal’s open door. “Taylor, slow down,” Paul called. “No running in the halls. Sorry, Cash, what were you saying?”
“There’s a man in the hospital from taking meth he picked up in Ordinary. In a coma.”
Paul stood and closed the door. “That turns my blood cold. Are you sure he got it here?”
“Pretty sure. There’s a problem throughout Montana. I just hadn’t suspected it was this close to home.”
“Me, either. I don’t have anyone at the school who looks like they’re taking it.”
“Yeah, it ravages people quickly. You can usually tell.”
“Listen, Cash, we have an assembly in a couple of weeks—students and parents. On Thursday. Will you come talk about the dangers of drugs? Both the kids and their parents need to be informed about this issue.”
“Good idea. What time?”
“After lunch. One o’clock.”
These kids were too young to do meth, but you just never knew… Cash stood to leave. “Call me if you hear even a whisper about meth in the school.”
“You got it. I’ll keep an eye on Austin when I can.”
“Appreciate it.”
The stores were open by the time Cash left school and he bought a thick, durable ski jacket. New, not used and worn like the stuff Austin’s mom bought him. Cash also picked up a wool hat and Thinsulate gloves.
After a stop at the New American diner for breakfast, he returned to the cop shop.
Austin slept soundly in the cell with his mouth open and drool dripping toward his ear. He had one arm flung above his head and the other dangling over the side of the cot.
Cash sat at his desk and booted up the computer. He searched data in San Francisco for Frank’s whereabouts first, but Dad had hidden his tracks. Why? Why come all the way to Ordinary to tell Cash he was dying and then drive away without leaving contact information?
Maybe because of your reaction to him? You weren’t exactly welcoming.
Yeah, and I refuse to feel guilty about that.
He dialed his mom’s number in San Francisco. Jamie answered instead, sounding peeved.
“Hey, buddy, it’s Cash. What’s wrong?”
“It’s Mom and Dad.” Yeah, Jamie definitely sounded sullen. “They won’t let me do stuff I want to do. They treat me like I’m a kid.”
Technically, Jamie was still a kid at fifteen.
