“Youwillneed him,” Knox said as he picked up the phone and turned it around to video two holes in one wall, spray paint streaking two others, and the table that had been sawed in half.
“Turn that damned thing off, or I will saw it and you in half,” the kid growled.
“Boy, you talk a big game, but…” Lottie started.
The boy grinned, wiggled his head, and took a step toward her. “Don’t you call me ‘boy,’ woman,” he yelled above the noise.
“If you want the notoriety for your deeds, then I’ve got the proof right here, and I’m going to keep filming until the police get here,” Knox growled.
“Y’all let us leave, and I won’t hurt either of you, but ifI have to cut my way out of here, well…” The kid sneered at him. “That video was taken without my permission, so it won’t stand up in court anyway, so have fun.”
“No one is leaving until the police get here,” Lottie said and wished that she had a good old peach-tree switch to teach these kids a lesson. “Now, sit down with your back against the wall thatyoujust drilled holes in. And the rest of you boys drop those spray cans and line up beside him.”
The kid dropped the saw. His expression changed into that of a pouty little boy and his tone changed to a semi-whine. “We didn’t do anything. You shot at us, so we ran in here for protection. All this was done before we had to take cover or be killed. Right, bros?”
“You got it, Boss,” the youngest one said.
“There’s another shell in the gun,” Knox told him, “And I’ve got more in my pocket. I would do whatever she says if I was you, boys. How old are y’all anyway?”
“Don’t say a word, Devon,” a freckle-faced kid with a curly red mullet said.
“You idiot!” Devon’s expression changed from contrite to angry in an instant. “You are never to use my name, and you know it. I’m Kingster. That’s your third strike, and now you are out of our gang. You can turn in your colors, and my daddy ain’t bailin’ you out this time.” He whipped to face another boy. “Baby D, I want you and the others to take that phone from Mister Smart Ass and smash it.”
“You guys ever heard of the twenty-one-foot rule?” Knox asked, trying to scare the kids with something he picked upfrom a television show. “In case you haven’t, it says if you are twenty-one feet or closer and you come at either of us with intent to harm with a knife, or in this case a chainsaw, we are within our legal rights to shoot you dead on the spot. You just threatened both of us. That’s a crime worse than vandalism.”
“And, honey, I can pull this trigger and reload so fast that I can load and fire again before you get anywhere near me,” Lottie said.
The one who was about to be thrown out of the little gang threw down his paint can, jerked a purple bandanna from his low-riding jeans, and tossed it toward the almighty Kingster. “I didn’t sign up for this if you’re going to get one of us killed. You can have my colors. I don’t want to run with y’all anymore. My mama is going to ground me for eternity if she sees that video.”
Sirens sounded in the distance, but Devon didn’t seem the least bit worried. He sat down on the floor with his hands laced behind his head. Three of the others followed his lead.
Red and blue lights flashed through the open door, and four policemen rushed inside, guns drawn as they scanned the room. “We’ll take it from here,” one of them told Knox and Lottie.
“What have you done this time, Devon?” one of them asked with a groan.
“Them two shot at us, and we rushed in here to get away from them. See that hole in the wall? I had to duck down to keep from getting hit. This place was all messed up beforewe even ran in here, and now they’re framing us for doing it. We’re waiting for you to come rescue us.”
“Here you go.” Knox handed his phone to the officer. “You can transfer that over to your phone. The first part they did not know was being filmed.”
The officer holstered his gun and tapped the two phones together. “I’ll go ahead and send it in to the lab while I’m at it,” he said and then watched the video. “Looks like you boys might be in some real trouble this time. The kind that even your daddy can’t get you out of.”
Devon laughed at the man. “My dad takes care of me and my friends, and besides, it’s their word against ours, and that can’t be shown in court because…”
Knox didn’t give him time to finish but butted in to say, “You will find Devon’s fingerprints all over the saw that he threatened us both with. And the other three boys’ prints on the paint cans. Mine will be on the shotgun shell lying out in the yard. I’m Knox Callahan, and the gun is mine. It is registered. Papers are in my trailer. This is Lottie Johnston, and we are both employed as carpenters here.”
“I’m Officer Harrison. These guys are Officers Tisdale, McBride, and Lowry. We will need to take the gun for now, but you can claim it at the station tomorrow morning.”
Lottie broke the shotgun, removed the shell, and handed both to McBride. “I’m the one who fired the gun into the air outside. You’ll find the spent shell out there, and when you test this, you’ll find that they are only loaded with Number 8bird shot. It might sting their sorry little asses, but it wouldn’t kill them.”
“Maybe she didn’t fire it at us, but come on, Harrison. You might as well let us go. We are all going to tell you the same story. We didn’t do the damage. We just picked up the paint and saw because we was scared them two fools were going to shoot us,” Devon told him.
“That’s not what I saw on the video,” Officer Harrison said.
Devon jacked up his chin and glared at Harrison. “You are dead wrong, and that’s my daddy coming through the door behind you. And like I said, that video was shot without our approval, so it won’t stand up in…”
A man in an expensive-looking sweat suit pushed his way inside the damaged rec hall and took a look around. “Don’t say another word, Son. I’m Richard Adams, the lawyer for these boys. Can someone tell me what is going on?”
“Trespassing, vandalism, driving without a license—unless Devon or one of his buddies got one in the last month—drunk and disorderly, and threatening to kill these two people right here,” Officer Harrison answered.
