One. Two. Thr?—
Behind us, tires screech to a stop, and Noah hops out of a deputy cruiser. Nice touch, considering he doesn’t usually drive one. And perfect timing. I didn’t realize how much I needed backup until he showed up.
“What are you gonna do?” Daryl’s grinning now, showing off his brown teeth. “Arrest a kid for throwing a rock? Don’t you have real crimes to solve?” He looks past me at Noah striding upthe driveway while he flashes his badge. “Mr. Badge and Mr. Gavel. What an honor.”
I take a moment to glare at him.
Noah reaches my side and takes in the scene with the economy of movement that comes from years of reading situations in the blink of an eye. I give him the thirty-second summary, low and clipped, and watch his jaw tighten the same way mine did.
We’re both thinking the same thing. This could have been so much worse.
“We’re going to need the name of whoever threw that rock,” Noah says, all business.
Daryl laughs. “Run along and play hall monitor somewhere else, boys. I’ll handle everything here.”
He won’t handle it. We all know hecan’thandle it. I have a feeling this man hasn’t handled anything in years except his TV remote and his beer supply. His kid is standing right there, watching his father dismiss two law enforcement officials like we’re inconvenient door-to-door salesmen.
What kind of lesson is that?
“Does your wife know about this party?” I ask, keeping my voice level. It takes effort.
Something flickers across Daryl’s face, and I can tell I’ve hit a nerve. And that’s exactly when it hits me that his wife may no longer be living.
“Tammy works nights,” he says, defensive now. And I’ll admit, I breathe a sigh of relief that there is a Mrs. “She’s a labor and delivery nurse. Someone’s gotta be here with the kids.”
Being here and supervising are apparently two different concepts in his world. I wonder if Tammy knows whatbeing herelooks like when she’s at work saving lives. I wonder if she’d be proud of her husband right now or their guests.
Probably not.
“Listen,” Daryl’s tone shifts slightly. He’s tryingfor reasonable now that he’s realized we’re not leaving. “The kids were just having a little fun. It’s Sunday night. They’re just blowing off some steam. No harm meant. I appreciate you stopping by?—”
“No harm meant?” I growl. “My three children were in that car. My wife was behind that wheel. Her mother was in the passenger seat. No harm meant doesn’t change the fact that harm almost happened.”
He moves to close the door, but Noah shoves his boot in to block it.
“We’re not done,” Noah says quietly. His low tone is far more threatening than yelling.
“Get the hell off my property.” Daryl’s false civility evaporates. He shoves the door closed—or tries to. Noah already has his weight against it.
Inside, the boys erupt into fresh peals of laughter. They think this is downright hilarious. They think this is a show.
“Come on.” I pull Noah away just as the door thunders shut with a slam.
“We should leave before we do something we’ll regret,” I say.
The two of us walk away because staying there won’t accomplish anything except getting us both arrested for disturbing the peace.
We need to regroup. We can’t solve this by forcing our way into the house, much as I’d like to. As much as every cell in my body is screaming at me to grab that beer out of Daryl’s hand and make him understand what could’ve happened tonight.
“Daryl won’t be laughing when your insurance adjuster sends him the bill for that windshield,” Noah mutters once we’re at the curb.
“We’ll get to the bottom of it,” I say, glaring at the house as the music turns up ten times louder than it was to begin with.
Noah growls at the vibrating door as if it personally offended him. “Don’t worry, I’ll interrogate them until I get the perpetrator’s name. And then I’ll lock whoever that is up to teach him a lesson.”
“And I’ll throw the book at him,” I say with just as much bite. “In fact, I’ll make sure he never gets out. That should teach the rest of them a lesson, too.”
We’re baiting each other now. Feeding the frustration. Both of us know we can’t actually lock up a teenager for throwing a rock—not unless the DA wants to press charges, which they won’t for something this minor—but saying it helps. Saying it makes the powerlessness feel slightly less suffocating.
