Bitter Sun. Beth Lewis

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СКАЧАТЬ scribbled it all down. ‘How long did you stay at the house?’

      ‘A while. Mandy let us have the steaks. Then we watched Bandstand.’

      ‘When did you leave?’ Samuels sighed out the question, getting impatient, writing it all down as if it would be useful one day.

      ‘Nine. Maybe a bit after.’

      ‘Had Mr Wakefield returned by then?’

      I shook my head.

      An exchange of looks between pastor and sheriff. A few seconds of silence.

      ‘Is … Did I say something wrong?’ I asked.

      Like a click of the fingers, Samuels changed direction. ‘So what were you and your sister doing down at the – what’s that you kids call it?’ he checked the paper, ‘the Roost, last night?’

      Everything in me clenched, talons around soft marrow.

      ‘Nothing.’

      ‘Nothing?’ Samuels said, leant forward. ‘You were found sleeping beside a corpse, son. You really sitting in my office, trying to tell me that’s nothing? I’m the sheriff here, I’ll be the one deciding what’s nothing. Now you answer my question. Why in God’s name would you do something like that?’

      I wanted to tell him he wouldn’t understand. He wouldn’t get it. I didn’t get it. Only Jenny really knew, but I had a lie. I just hoped it matched Jenny’s.

      ‘John, are you okay?’ the pastor said.

      ‘We were making sure nothing happened to her. Animals, you know.’

      ‘Sorry, son, but that smells like bullshit to me.’

      ‘It’s true!’ Wasn’t it? Was that what Jenny had told him too? Oh God, what if she hadn’t? My bones felt like they’d crack under the tension, my muscles split and frayed like old rope.

      ‘Come on, son. You were all but spooning that girl. Did you get some kind of thrill out of it? Did you like being that close to a naked girl?’

      ‘Enough,’ the pastor shouted. Samuels stopped. I opened my eyes and he threw the pen onto the desk. ‘That’s enough, Len. He’s just a kid.’

      ‘I need answers to my questions, pastor, and you’ll do well not to interfere.’

      ‘Not to questions like that,’ the pastor said, as fierce as the sheriff, matching him for volume. ‘John didn’t have anything to do with this girl’s death and you know it. Yes, maybe he and his sister did something a little strange, but that’s not what this investigation is about. This isn’t a witch-hunt. He told you why they were down there, so did Jenny, and they’re both telling the truth. You got your explanation so we’re done here.’

      I stared at both men. Stunned. I hurt on the inside, bruised and shaken, but Jenny had told the right story and the relief soothed me like ice water on a burn.

      ‘If you say so, pastor,’ Samuels said in that careful, heavy tone Mr Wakefield had used.

      ‘I say so.’

      ‘Well I guess you and your sister can go.’ Samuels threw the pen down. ‘I’ll be calling on you, John, if I have any more questions.’

      ‘And I’ll be here too for any follow-up interviews, right, sheriff?’ the pastor said and stood up, motioned for me to follow.

      Samuels didn’t see us out. Didn’t shake the pastor’s hand like he’d done with Gloria’s father. Jacobs closed the door behind us but stopped me from joining Rudy and Jenny.

      ‘John. Are you all right? Samuels was out of line.’

      First time in a long time anyone had asked how I was. It softened the bruises, returned my sense of calm. ‘He’s just doing his job I guess. I’m okay.’

      ‘No offence, bud, but I’m not buying it. You’re pale as potatoes, as my mother used to say, and I don’t think you’ve begun to understand what you’ve been through. Seeing a dead body, that can mess with your head. I’d like to talk to you some more about it, if you want to. I know how close you are with your mother and sister, and your friends, but sometimes it helps to speak to someone else. Someone outside your group.’

      I glanced over to Jenny, still chatting away with Rudy. I thought back to last night and how she’d acted down at the lake, the way she’d looked at Mora’s body. That strange fascination in her eyes. For the first time in my life I didn’t understand my sister and that scared me. Maybe talking would help. The pastor knew his stuff and had God on his side. If anyone could help my head sort out this mess, it was them.

      ‘I think I’d like that.’

      ‘How’s Tuesday? I’ll write you a note to get you out of your last lesson,’ he winked.

      Study hall. ‘Yes, sir, that’ll be fine. Thank you, again, pastor. For sitting with Jenny too. She’d have been scared on her own and I hate her being scared.’

      ‘Anytime,’ he said, looked at me like he was watching a bird with a broken wing take flight.

      I went back to Jenny and she jumped up. ‘Can we go?’

      ‘Yeah. Rudy, you coming?’

      Rudy shook his head. ‘Not until dear old Dad comes to get me so I can have my turn in the little glass room. Won’t that be just stellar?’

      Rudy slid down the chair, folded his arms and stared at the far wall. Wide eyes. He was trying to keep it together but fear always shows. It’s a black shape behind tissue paper. Rudy was all tissue paper when it came to his father.

      ‘See you later?’ I asked. Later meant after dinner, down at the Roost, with a couple of Camels and Gloria’s portable radio.

      ‘Wouldn’t miss it,’ Rudy said. Something in his tone made me think he wouldn’t come. Made me think I wouldn’t either.

      ‘Don’t worry,’ the pastor said and sat two chairs down from Rudy. ‘I’ll keep an eye on him until his dad arrives.’

      Jenny and me said our goodbyes and left the station. Stepped out of cool central air into thick heat and the smell of Main Street. Exhaust fumes and greasy steam from the Backhoe diner, the occasional floating scent of flowers from Al Westin’s grocery store. Noon sun prickled my scalp and the top of my nose and I didn’t realise how dry my mouth and skin had become. Shrivelled up in the cold, false air.

      Jenny took my hand when we got half a block from the station. Already slick with sweat. ‘That was scary.’

      Before I could respond, reassure her, I caught sight of a battered Chevy tow truck driving too fast up Main. I knew that truck. A rusted hook swung from a cable off the boom. The hood was faded yellow but the rest of it was blue. On the door was the chipped decal, half missing from a replacement back panel. Buchanan Auto Salvage. Inside, Rudy’s father sucked on a can of Budweiser, eyes on anything but the road.

      ‘Shit,’ Jenny said, watching the truck, and СКАЧАТЬ