The Sign of Seven Trilogy (94 page)

Baiting the hook, Gage thought. It was the sort of thing that too often worked on Fox. For himself, he'd just let Deputy Asshole play it out. Slowly, Gage took the keys out of the ignition. He stepped out, clicked the locks, all the while staring into Napper's eyes. “I'm not taking a Breathalyzer, and it's within my rights to refuse.”

“I say you stink of alcohol.” Napper jammed a finger into Gage's chest. “I say you're a lousy drunk, just like your old man.”

“Say anything you want. The opinions of dickheads don't weigh much with me.”

Napper shoved Gage back against the car. Though Gage's hands curled into fists, he kept them at his sides. “I say you're drunk.” To punctuate it, Napper slammed his hand on Gage's chest. “I say you resisted arrest. I say you assaulted an officer. We'll see how much that weighs when you're behind bars.” He shoved Gage again, grinned. “Chicken-shit bastard.” He pushed Gage around. “Spread 'em.”

Coolly, Gage laid his hands on the roof of the car as Napper frisked him. “You get off on that? Is that part of the perks?” He hissed in a breath, but stayed as he was when Napper rabbit-punched him.

“You shut the fuck up.” Wrenching Gage's arms behind his back, Napper cuffed him. “Maybe we'll take a little ride, you and me, before I put you in jail.”

“It'll be interesting to hear you explain that, when I call in the six witnesses who drove by while you were rousting me. While you put hands on me while mine were at my sides. License numbers are in my head. I'm good with numbers.” He didn't flinch when Napper pushed him violently against the car again. “And look, here comes another one.”

The approaching car slowed. Gage recognized it as Joanne Barry's little hybrid. She stopped the car, rolled down the windows, and said, “Oh-oh.”

“You just drive on, Ms. Barry. This is police business.”

The disgusted look she sent Napper spoke volumes. “So I see. Need a lawyer, Gage?”

“Looks like. Why don't you have Fox meet me at the police station.”

“I said you drive
on
!” Once again Napper's hand went to the butt of his weapon. “Or do you want me to arrest you for interfering with an officer?”

“You always were a nasty little prick. I'll call Fox, Gage.” She pulled her car to the shoulder, staring at Napper as she took out her cell phone.

On an oath, Napper pushed Gage in the back of the cruiser. Gage saw his eyes latch on to the rearview as he got behind the wheel. And saw the fury in them as Joanne followed the cruiser into town, and all the way to the police station.

Gage's first twinge of fear came when both Joanne and Napper stepped out of their cars at the station, and he himself was locked inside the cruiser. No, no, he thought, witnesses here, too. Napper wouldn't lay a hand on her and if he did . . .

But he saw only a brief exchange of words before Napper unlocked the backseat and hauled him out. Joanne marched straight inside, skirted Dispatch with a “Hey, Carla,” for the woman who sat there, then clipped to chief of police Wayne Hawbaker's office. “I need to file a complaint against one of your deputies, Wayne. And you need to come out here, now.”

Just look at her, Gage thought. Wasn't she something?

Hawbaker came out, looked from Joanne to Gage to Napper. “What seems to be the trouble?”

“I tagged this
individual
for speeding, reckless driving. I suspected he was driving under the influence. He refused to take a Breathalyzer, resisted, and took a swing at me.”

“Bullshit!”

“Joanne,” Hawbaker said quietly. “Gage?”

“I'll cop to the speeding. I was about five over the limit. Joanne gave you the rest. It's bullshit.”

Hawbaker's steady stare gave nothing away. “You been drinking?”

“I had a beer about ten o'clock last night. That's, what, about twelve hours ago?”

“He was driving erratically. Had an open container in the car.”

“I wasn't driving erratically, and the open container was a goddamn go-coffee from Sheetz. Your boy here baited me, manhandled me, rabbit-punched me, cuffed me, and suggested we take a ride before he brought me in.”

Red flags of fury rode Napper's cheeks. “He's a lying sack.”

“My car's on the side of the road,” Gage continued in the same even tone. “Just before Blue Mountain Lane, in front of a two-story redbrick house, white shutters, front garden. White Toyota hatchback in the driveway, Maryland vanity license plate reads Jenny4. Nice-looking brunette was out front gardening and saw it go down. You ought to check it out.” He looked back at Napper now, smiled easily. “You're not very observant for a cop.”

“That'd be Jenny Mullendore.” Hawbaker studied Napper's face. Whatever he saw in it had his jaw tightening. Before he could speak, Fox pushed through the door.

“Quiet,” he said, pointing a finger at Gage. “Why is my client in handcuffs?” he demanded.

“Derrick, uncuff him.”

“I'm booking him on the aforesaid charges, and—”

“I said uncuff him. We're going to sit down and hash this out now.”

Napper whirled on his chief. “You're not standing by me?”

“I want to speak to my client,” Fox interrupted. “In private.”

“Fox.” Hawbaker dragged his hands over his bristly, graying hair. “Give me a minute here. Derrick, did you strike Gage?”

“Hell, no. I had to take him in hand when he resisted.”

“Is that what Jenny Mullendore's going to tell me when I ask her?”

Napper's eyes went to furious slits. “I don't know what she's going to tell you. For all I know she's screwing him and she'll say any damn thing.”

“You're quite the lover, Gage,” Joanne said with a smile. “According to Deputy Napper, I'm screwing you, too.”

Fox rounded on Napper, and currently cuffed, Gage could only body-bump him back. “What did you say to my mother?”

“Don't worry.” Knowing her son, Joanne stepped forward, took a firm grip on his arm. “I'm filing a complaint. He told me to fuck off when I followed him in, and I followed him in because I saw him shoving Gage, who was already handcuffed. He suggested that I put out for Gage, and half the men in town.”

“Jesus Christ, Derrick.”

“She's lying.”

“Everyone's lying but you.” Gage shook his head. “That must be tough. If these cuffs aren't off in the next five seconds, I'm authorizing my attorney to file a civil suit against the deputy, and the Hawkins Hollow police department.”

“Uncuff him. Now, Deputy! Carla.” Chief Hawbaker turned to the wide-eyed woman at Dispatch. “Get ahold of Jennifer Mullendore.”

“Um, actually, Chief, she's on the line. She just called in about, ah, an incident in front of her house.”

Fox beamed a smile. “Isn't it nice when private citizens do their public duty? Are you filing charges against my client, Chief?”

This time Hawbaker scrubbed his hands over his face. “I'd appreciate it if you'd give me a few minutes on that. I'm going to take this call in my office. Deputy, come with me. If y'all would just have a seat?”

Fox sat, stretched out his legs. “Just can't stay out of trouble, can you?” he said to Gage.

“Apparently not.”

“You either,” he said to his mother.

“My boyfriend and I are badasses.”

“He crossed the line with this,” Fox said quietly. “Hawbaker's good police, he's a good chief, and he's not going to take it, not going to let it ride. If Jenny corroborates your statement, you've got grounds for those civil suits, and Hawbaker knows it. More, he knows he's got a loose cannon on his hands in Napper.”

“My girlfriend hadn't come along, he would've done more. He was working himself up to it.” Gage leaned over, kissed Joanne's cheek. “Thanks, honey.”

“Cut that out or I'm telling my father.” Fox leaned closer to Gage. “Was it just Nap the Prick, or was it more?”

“I can't say for certain, but we all know Napper doesn't need demonic help being a violent bastard. Just him, I think. He got worried when I mentioned I had plate numbers for about six cars that went by while he was shoving me around.”

Gage glanced toward the closed office door when Napper's voice boomed out. “Fuck you, then. I quit.” He burst out a moment later, rage burning in his eyes.

Gage noted his sidearm was missing. “There won't always be a slut around for you bastards to hide behind.” He slammed out the front door of the station.

“Did he mean me or Jenny Mullendore was a slut?” Joanne wondered. “Because honestly, I don't see how she has time for slut activities with those two preschoolers of hers. Me, I've got lots of time.”

“Okay, Mom.” Fox patted her arm, then rose when Hawbaker stepped out of his office.

“I want to apologize to you, Joanne, for the unacceptable behavior of one of my deputies. I'd appreciate it if you'd file that complaint. I'd like to apologize to you, Gage, on behalf of my department for the harassment. Mrs. Mullendore's statement jibed with what you told me. I realize you're within your rights to file a civil action. I will tell you that due to the circumstances, I suspended Deputy Napper, with the intention of conducting a full investigation of this matter. He has elected to resign from the department.”

“That works for me.” Gage got to his feet.

“Unofficially, I'm going to tell you, all of you—and you can pass this to Cal, because it seems to me Derrick sees you as one. You be careful. You watch your backs. He's . . . volatile. I can have you taken back to your car, Gage, if you want.”

“I've got that covered,” Fox told Hawbaker. “You watch your back, too. Napper holds grudges.”

 

GAGE PLANNED TO HEAD STRAIGHT BACK TO CAL'S, grab a shower, some food, maybe some sleep. But impulse pushed him to the rental house. Cybil stood out front, in shorts and a tank that showed off long legs and long arms, and watered the pots and baskets of flowers scattered around the entrance.

She lowered the big, galvanized can, and strolled down to meet him. “I heard you had a busy morning.”

“No secrets in the Hollow.”

“Oh, a few. Is everything all right now?”

“I'm not in jail and Napper no longer works for the town police.”

“Both good news.” She angled her head. “How pissed off are you? It's difficult to tell.”

“Only mildly at this point. During? I wanted to kick his ass out into the road and stomp on his face. It's hard to resist that kind of pleasure. But . . .”

“A man who controls himself has a better chance of winning.”

“Something like that.”

“Well, you won this one. Are you coming in, or passing by?”

Step back, go home, Gage told himself. “Any chance of getting a meal around here?”

“There might be. I guess you've earned it.”

When she turned, Gage took her arm. “I wasn't going to come here today. I don't know why I did.”

“For a meal?”

He pulled her to him, took her lips with a hunger that had nothing to do with food. “No. I don't know what this is, this you and me. I don't know if I like it.”

“At least we're in step there because neither do I.”

“If we're alive come mid-July, I'm gone.”

“So am I.”

“Okay then.”

“Okay. No strings on you, no strings on me.” But she brushed her hands through his hair and kissed him, warmly, again. “Gage, there are a lot more important things to worry about here than what this you-and-me thing might be.”

“I don't lie to women, and I don't like to misdirect them either. That's all.”

“So noted. I don't like to be lied to, but I have a habit of picking my own direction. Do you want to come in and have that meal?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I do.”

Thirteen

HE PUT FLOWERS ON HIS MOTHER'S GRAVE, AND she reached up, a slim hand spearing through earth and grass, to take them. As Gage stood in the flood of sunlight, in the quiet cemetery with its somber stones, his heart slammed into his throat. Draped in innocent white, she ascended—pretty and pale from the maw of dirt—clutching the bouquet like a bride her wedding roses.

Had they buried her in white? He didn't know.

“You used to bring me dandelions, and the wild butter-cups and violets that colored the little hill near our house in the summer.”

His throat ached, straining to hold his trembling heart. “I remember.”

“Do you?” She sniffed the roses, red as blood against her white dress. “It's hard to know what little boys remember, what little boys forget. We used to take walks in the woods, and in the fields. Do you remember that?”

“Yes.”

“There are houses in the fields now, where we used to walk. But we could walk here, for a little while.”

Her skirts billowed as she turned, and with his flowers cradled in the crook of her arm, began to walk. “There's so little time left,” she said. “I was afraid you wouldn't come back, not after what happened when you were here last.” She looked into his eyes. “I couldn't stop it. It's very strong, and getting stronger.”

“I know that, too.”

“I'm proud of you for staying, for being brave. Whatever happens, I want you to know I'm proud of you. If . . . If you fail, I'll be waiting for you. I don't want you to be afraid.”

“It feeds on fear.”

She looked at him again. A sleek black hornet crawled out from the delicate petals of a rose, but she looked nowhere but at him. “On many things. It's had an eternity to develop its appetites. If you could stop it . . .”