Page 39 of River Wild

He knows me. I don’t know him.

But then everyone knows who I am.

The child of the cop killer.

If only they knew the truth.

I wonder if he worked with my stepfather. If he was a friend of his.

Everyone was my stepfather’s friend.

And that’s because they didn’t know the real him.

The officer’s eyes regard me with distaste.

Like everyone’s does in this godforsaken town.

I sometimes wish we could move away. But Gran won’t leave. She’s lived her whole life in this town. She was born in this house. Says she’ll die here.

And she says we don’t run from our problems. We face them.

But, if I could run, I would. Far, far away.

But I can’t. So, here I stand.

I dig my feet into my sneakers, trying to ground myself. My hand trembles around the door that I’m holding on to.

“Is your grandmother home?” he asks.

I nod, pulse hammering in my suddenly dry throat.

“Well, can you go get her?”

I nod again. But I can’t seem to move. I can’t get my feet off the floor or my hand away from the door.

He frowns, lines drawn all over his face, and he steps forward, boots thudding against the wooden porch.

Boots thudding up the steps. He’s home.

He leans down into my face. “Fuck is wrong with you, boy? You retarded or somethin’?”

Boy.

“You will do as I tell you, boy.”

“No, he’s not retarded.” The whip-crack sound of my gran’s voice is like a life raft from a nightmare. Her soft but strong hand lands on my shoulder, giving it a reassuring squeeze, and I relax a little. “And you might be the law in these parts, but don’t ever talk to my grandson that way again.”

The officer stares her down.

My gran might be small—I’m already taller than she is—but she’s fierce.

She lifts her chin and stares right back at him.

“Whatever,” he mutters. “I’m just here to deliver a message.”

“Which is?” Gran says.

A smile passes over his face. And it’s not a kind smile. He reaches his hand into his pocket and pulls out an official-looking envelope, but he doesn’t hand it over. Instead, he begins speaking in a cold, calm voice, “Last night, there was a riot at the prison where your daughter was incarcerated. She was stabbed with a shank by another prisoner. She didn’t make it. She’s dead.”