I can almost see the steam coming from his ears.
“Someone needs to wring this punk’s neck.”
“Why don’t you do it, Deputy These Nuts?” I challenge.
He wants to beat the fuck out of me. If the sheriff wasn’t here, he would make a move then come up with some bullshit excuse to explain how I got the bruises. He’s the type of motherfucker that was picked on throughout school and became a cop to compensate for his shortcomings. This fucker doesn’t need to wield any kind of power. He misuses it.
A light knock sounds at the door. “Come in,” the sheriff calls.
Deputy Megan cracks the door open. “Ricky’s here, Sheriff.” I met her while being escorted through this hellhole.
“Maybe he can talk some sense into you. Let him in.”
Not likely.
Ricky pushes through the door hard enough for it to bang against the wall.
“Have you lost your fucking mind, Art?” Ricky yells.
“Yeah, about three years ago when I tried to off myself.”
“Ricky, we have a real problem here. There were other kids involved, but he won’t give them up,” Sheriff Andy says.
Ricky rubs his fingers against his temples. “Art—”
“Go ahead and waste your breath. I’m not saying anything.”
Ricky slumps his shoulders, defeated. “I know Art well enough to know he isn’t going to talk.”
“All right, we’ll have to lock him up,” Sheriff Andy replies.
“Wait a minute. Can I have a private word with you both?” Ricky asks.
There’s a tense pause. “Okay, follow me,” the sheriff agrees.
All three leave the room.
Ricky and the sheriff come back into the room about twenty minutes later.
“About fucking time. I have to take a shit,” I say.
Sheriff Andy walks over and surprises me by taking off the handcuffs. “You’re free to go.”
“What?” I rub my sore wrists.
Then it hits me. “How much did the old man pay you to make this disappear? You’re nothing but a dirty cop who can be bought. I see where your son gets his morals from.” I smirk.
“Watch your mouth, you fucking delinquent.” He grasps the front of my shirt.
“Whoa, calm down, Sheriff.” Ricky clutches his arm.
“You want to hit me, don’t you? Come on. Give me your best shot.”
His body trembles with rage. Yeah, he wants to clean my clock.
“Art, shut your damn mouth,” Ricky hisses.
He lets my shirt go. “Keep your head down. Your grandfather won’t be able to help you next time.”
