скачать книгу бесплатно
She took a deep breath, then met his gaze directly for the first time since she’d entered his office. “Mr. Garrett’s stepson is in my class.”
“Corey Sylvester?”
“I take it you know him.”
Despite her worries over Corey, that blasted smile of his sent her stomach fluttering. “This is a small town, Ms. McKenzie. Not much slips by the eagle eye of the Salt River P.D. What’s Corey done now?”
“Oh, no. He hasn’t done anything.”
He chuckled wryly. “That’s a first.”
“What do you mean?”
“Only that the boy’s had his share of run-ins with local authorities.”
Another person might have asked what possible crimes a child of ten could have committed to bring him to the attention of the local police chief. Not Sarah. She had seen much, much worse than Corey Sylvester could even contemplate. In Chicago, children as young as eight dealt drugs and sold their bodies on street corners and murdered each other for sport.
She thought of a pretty girl with glossy braids and old, tired eyes, then pushed the memory aside.
This was rural Wyoming, where children still played kick-the-can on a warm spring night and the most excitement to be found was at the high school baseball diamond.
That’s why she had come here, to find peace. To immerse herself in the slow, serene pace of small-town life.
To heal.
“Corey has done nothing,” she assured the police chief. “He’s a troubled young boy and I…I believe I know why.”
“I’m assuming this has something to do with his stepfather, otherwise you wouldn’t be here looking for the mayor’s head on a platter, right?”
Her jaw clenched as she remembered what she’d seen at school that day. “Corey has all the characteristics of an abused child. I believe his stepfather is the one abusing him.”
Chief Harte leaned forward, suddenly alert as an alpha wolf scenting danger. She started to shrink back in her chair, but quickly checked the movement. She wouldn’t cower. Not if she could help it.
“That’s a very serious allegation, Ms. McKenzie. You have any evidence to back that up?”
She felt sick all over again just thinking about it. “Corey’s been in my class for two weeks now and—”
He interrupted her with a frown. “Only two weeks? School’s out in another month. Why would he transfer into your class so late in the year when the session’s almost over?”
Because he’d gone through all three of the other fourth-grade teachers and each one refused to allow him back into her class. She was his last stop on the road before expulsion.
“He had some difficulties with the other teachers. But that doesn’t matter. What concerns me is that in those two weeks he has come to school twice with black eyes and once with stitches in the corner of his mouth. That’s just not normal wear and tear for a boy his age.”
“Corey’s not like most boys.”
“He’s certainly a little high-strung, but he’s still a child.”
After a moment of studying her out of those vivid blue eyes, the police chief pulled a notebook from his pocket and began writing in it. “Two black eyes and stitches in his mouth. That’s what you said, right?”
She nodded. “When I asked him about his first injury, he became extremely evasive. He refused to look me in the eye and mumbled some obviously fictitious story about falling off his bike. His second black eye came from falling out of a tree, he said.”
“And the stitches?”
“Yet another fall off his bike. He said he did a face plant on the concrete.”
“It’s possible he’s telling the truth. Maybe he’s just accident-prone. When I was a kid, I once spent a whole summer at the clinic in town getting patched up from one accident or another.”
She had a disturbing mental image of a dark-haired little boy with those blue eyes and the devil in his grin, but she quickly pushed it away.
“Corey is a rough-and-tumble kind of kid, Ms. McKenzie,” the chief continued. “It’s only natural that he’ll suffer a few scrapes and bruises along the way.”
“But four serious accidents in two weeks? Doesn’t that stretch the bounds of credibility a little even for you, Chief Harte?”
He checked his notebook. “Four? You only mentioned three.”
“I was getting to that. Today, during our last recess of the day, he ripped his shirt on the playground fence. He refused to let me help him, but through the tear in his shirt I saw what looked like bruises on his shoulder.”
“Bruises?”
“Like from a man’s hand squeezing viciously hard.” She didn’t add that she’d once had similar bruises. And that even though they had faded more than a year ago, she could sometimes still feel them.
He blew out a breath, and for the first time she began to think maybe she wasn’t fighting a losing battle. He scribbled a few more notes in his book, then glanced at her again. “What makes you suspect the mayor is behind all of this?”
“When Corey transferred into my class, I examined his school records so I could be familiar with his situation. Until midway through the second grade, Corey’s teachers all loved him and he had wonderful grades. The comments in his report cards were things like ‘always willing to help others.’ ‘A joy to have in class.’ ‘Creative and imaginative.”’
“He’s imaginative, all right. Last winter during a cold spell he poured water in the keyhole of every store on Main Street so the locks would freeze. Took us half a day to thaw everything out.”
“His behavior in class began to change dramatically, coinciding quite noticeably around the time I understand his mother married Mayor Garrett. Almost overnight, a bright, artistic child turned angry and destructive. I believe there’s a connection.”
“A lot of kids have trouble adjusting to divorces and remarriages. Doesn’t mean they’re being abused.”
She glared at him, feeling as if she’d lost all the headway she thought she’d gained. Why wasn’t he taking this seriously? She had been through this for more than an hour with Principal Hendricks and she had had just about enough of Salt River’s good-old-boy network. She had no doubt that’s why she seemed to be hitting a brick wall here. Nobody wanted to rock the boat, especially when powerful people were on board.
“Do you care about this child’s welfare at all? Or is he just one more juvenile delinquent to you?”
He blinked at her sudden attack. “Sure I care about him. But I just can’t jump into a major investigation based on speculation and conjecture.”
Speculation and conjecture? She’d given him ample cause to investigate. Wasn’t he listening to her at all?
Furious, she glared at him, completely forgetting that the man was supposed to intimidate her. “You mean you don’t want to alienate the mayor by pursuing an investigation against him. Isn’t that right?”
She narrowed her gaze thoughtfully. “That’s it, isn’t it? I think I’m beginning to understand. Seth Garrett is an important man around here. Tell me, Chief Harte, are you more concerned about keeping your job or in protecting a little boy?”
As soon as the words escaped her tongue, she knew they were a mistake. A monumental mistake. The police chief’s blue eyes hardened. His easy charm disappeared, leaving only raw anger.
“Be careful, ma’am,” he murmured.
She clasped her hands together tightly in her lap to hide their renewed trembling. Where had that outburst of hers come from?
The old Sarah might have said something exactly like that, would have faced down a hundred Jesse Hartes if she had to. But she had been gone for a long time. The timid mouse she had left behind never would have risked baiting a man like him.
Some vestige of her former self must have been lurking inside her all this time. What’s more, she was amazed to suddenly discover she wasn’t willing to run away just because of his threat, implied or otherwise. Corey deserved to have someone on his side.
Even if that someone was only a timid mouse.
She stood up again. “If you’re not willing to investigate, I told you, I’ll find someone who is.”
After a moment’s hesitation, he stood, as well. “I didn’t say I wasn’t going to investigate. I’ll look into the matter. I’ll talk to the boy, talk to Seth and Ginny. But I have to warn you, I’m not sure how far I’ll get. These cases can be difficult to prove, especially if the child won’t cooperate. And knowing Corey, I can pretty much guess how it will go.”
“Please let me know what happens.” She walked toward the door.
“Oh, I’ll be in touch, Ms. McKenzie,” the police chief said. “You can be sure of that.”
That’s exactly what she was afraid of, Sarah thought as she walked out of his office.
Chapter 2
It was nearly six when Jesse pulled into the Garretts’ driveway. He climbed out of the department Bronco and gazed up at the house, all three stories of it.
Somebody had been busy with spring cleaning, judging by the way the windows gleamed gold in the dying sun, without a streak. The place radiated warmth and elegance, from its perfectly manicured gardens to its cobblestone sidewalk.
The house was only a few years old, but a lifetime away from the miserable one-bedroom trailer halfway up Elk Mountain where Ginny and Corey had lived during her marriage to Hob Sylvester.
Jesse had worked for the county then as a deputy sheriff and he’d always hated going out on domestic disturbance calls there. He could still remember the tangible feeling of despair that permeated the thin, painfully bare walls, and his constant, frustrating attempts to convince Ginny to get out of the situation.
Oh, she would try. He knew that. She would move out for a few days or a week or two. But Hob still had enough high school football star in him to sweet-talk her back.
Hob hadn’t always been a son of a bitch, and maybe that was one of the things that kept Ginny hanging on. Once he’d been all charisma and slow, cowboy charm, the high school football standout everybody pegged to go pro. It hadn’t worked out that way. Something went wrong—Jesse wasn’t sure what—and a few years later Ginny got pregnant.
Jesse figured Hob must have seen it as just one more dirty trick played on him by fate. He’d done the right thing by marrying her, or what was considered the right thing by society, anyway. It sure as hell hadn’t been the right thing for Ginny. Hob had spent the next six years drinking hard and taking his bitterness out on her.
For more than a few of those years, Jesse had been just like him. It was a chapter in his life he hated to even remember, how after his parents’ deaths he’d spent many a night at the Renegade, trying to drown his guilt any way he could.
Jesse pushed the memory away. Anyway, Hob was gone. He’d taken up with a cocktail waitress from Idaho Falls about four years ago and the two of them had headed for Vegas, last Jesse heard.
Ginny had landed on her feet, that’s for sure. Ended up marrying her divorce attorney and now she and her kid lived in one of the fanciest houses in town and she drove a Range Rover and shopped at all the ritzy designer stores in Jackson Hole.
He thought of Sarah McKenzie’s accusations. He really hoped she was wrong. Ginny deserved a happy ending, after what she’d been through.
As he walked up the front steps, the intoxicating smells of spring drifted around him—sweet lilac bushes, damp, musty earth and meat sizzling on somebody’s grill nearby.
Salt River was his town and he was fiercely protective of it. When he was a kid, he couldn’t wait to get out. He’d been stupid enough to think the slow pace of a small town was strangling the life out of him. Once in a while he still hungered for something more than ticketing jaywalkers and breaking up the occasional bar fight, but he owed a debt to the people of this town.
One he’d be a long time repaying.
Besides, he couldn’t imagine living anywhere else on a beautiful, warm spring night like this. It was just about perfect, with kids jumping on a trampoline down the street, people working in their yards or reading the paper on their front porches, and sprinklers thumping happily all across town.
Not quite perfect, he amended. He still had the matter of Sarah McKenzie’s suspicions about Corey Sylvester to contend with.
He rang the doorbell and had to wait only a few seconds before Ginny Garrett answered.
Her face still retained most of the beauty that had won her the prom queen tiara in school. It brightened when she saw him, but her expression just as quickly grew wary. “What has Corey done now?” she asked, her voice resigned.
“Nothing. Least, nothing that I know about yet. That’s not why I’m here, anyway.”
“Oh. Well then, Seth’s not home, I’m afraid. He had a late meeting with a client.”
“Actually, I wanted to speak with you.”
Again, wariness vied with curiosity in her expression. “Come in, then,” she finally said. “We can talk in the living room.”
She led the way through the big house. Jesse had been there plenty of times on business with the mayor, but he always felt out of place amid the creamy whites and fancy furniture—afraid to move wrong in case he broke something expensive.
“Where’s Maddie?” he asked, of Corey’s six-month-old half sister.
“Napping. Finally.” Ginny rolled her eyes. “I know it’s almost bedtime anyway, but it’s been one of those days. She’s teething and has been running me ragged today. Would you care for something to drink? A pop or something?”
“No. I’m fine. I’d just as soon get this over with.”
She glanced at him. “That sounds pretty ominous. What’s this about, Jess?”
He sighed heavily. Damn, he didn’t want to do this. Ginny had been his friend for a long time—the first girl he’d ever kissed, way back in the second grade.
After the car accident that had killed his parents and left him in the hospital for nearly a month, she’d been one of the few people who didn’t offer him empty platitudes. Or, worse, who acted as if nothing had happened, when his whole life had just been ripped apart.
She had offered simple, calming comfort and he had never forgotten it.
Since then, she’d been to hell and back and had worked hard to make something out of her life. How could he tell her about Ms. McKenzie’s suspicions?
“Come on, Jess. Out with it. You’re scaring me.”
He blew out a breath, then met her worried gaze squarely. “How do Corey and Seth get on?”
Her brow furrowed. “What kind of question is that? They get along fine.”
“All the time?”
She continued to look puzzled. “Certainly they have their differences, I suppose. Corey can be difficult sometimes and he has a hard time with authority—you should know that as well as anybody. But Seth tries hard to be a good father. Why do you ask?”
Damn, this was tough. “There’s been an allegation that Corey is being abused.”
She stared at him, the color draining from her face until her skin just about matched the white of the sofa she was sitting on. “Abused? By Seth?”
He nodded grimly.
“This is some kind of sick joke, right? Who would say such a terrible thing? It’s not true. Absolutely not true.”
“It’s not completely unfounded, Gin. I understand he’s had several injuries in the last few weeks.”
