"Looks like you and me are gonna have ourselves a little trip to the station."
Opening the back door of the squad car, Sheriff Hutton shoves Dale inside.
Dale slumps back in his seat and closes his eyes. His scar burns red and he looks like he wants to throw up.
This is all my fault.
Shit! What do I do?
The car starts to pull away from me and I do the only thing I can think of. Picking up my pace, I run straight into the backdoor and land in Dale's lap. If he's going to jail then so am I.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
"You've been in one of these before, haven't you?"
I gaze down at Dale. He's sitting on the cold bench of a jail cell with his head in his hands. His curls are covering his face and he hasn't looked up once since he's been thrown in here.
His curls bounce as he nods at my question.
I sit down beside him.
"I thought you said you were never caught."
"Yeah, well..." Dale sits up. "Maybe I didn't want you knowing I had a criminal record." He thumps his head against the concrete wall and curses.
"My parents are going to get a call asking them to come and collect their son from jail." Squeezing his nose, he shakes his head. "I promised them it would never happen again."
"This isn't your fault."
"It doesn't matter. I just don't want them to get that call. I can see my mother's expression and hear Dad's disappointed sigh. I used to hate that sound." He thumps his head again. "I should have run as soon as I heard that phone ring."
"He probably still would have caught you."
He ignores my comment and drills the cell bars with his dark glare.
Dale had been like this since the Sheriff yanked him out of the garage by his collar. It was really disconcerting. I could handle irritated Dale... and thoughtful Dale... I was even getting used to sweet, disarming Dale, but darkly pensive Dale was a little scary.
I think back to the ride in here.
The Sheriff kept looking in the rearview mirror, making snide remarks.
"I knew you'd slip back into your old ways eventually. I've read your record, boy. I know all about your thievin'."
Dale kept staring out the window, not rising to any of the taunts.
"What were you trying to take from my place, huh? My son's car? You were going to take the Mustang for a joy ride, weren't you?"
The Sheriff's mocking nastiness was so uncalled for. I couldn't help wondering if he was laying it on so thick, because he wanted to get Dale out of the way.
I gazed into the rearview mirror, trying to catch a decent look at Sheriff Hutton's eyes.
It was only when he started demanding Dale explain his presence by Adam's car that I noticed a lick of fear in his expression.
"What do you know?!" His voice started to rise as he sped towards the station. "You better start talking, boy."
He slammed the brakes hard and Dale lurched forward in his seat, only just managing to stop his face from slamming into the seat in front of him.
With the dignity of a king, he quietly repositioned himself in the back and continued to glare at the back of Sheriff Hutton's head.
Everyone looked at him as he was dragged into the station. The deputy didn't ask any questions as he watched Dale being hauled towards the cell. The bars slammed, followed by the definitive click of the lock.
The Sheriff's eyes narrowed as he gazed at Dale.
"You just sit tight, champ. I'll be back soon."
He hasn't come back. I look at my watch. We have been stuck in here for thirty minutes. Time is ticking away and there is nothing I can do to stop it. I think of the Sheriff collecting Adam from school then driving out to where my body is.
Where will they bury me?
A myriad of possibilities scatter through my brain. They have every chance of getting away with this.
But what about Dale? I look across at him and wonder what his future holds.
How will the Sheriff silence him?
My imagination explodes with images more torturous than the next... Dale incarcerated for a crime he didn't commit, Dale getting beaten up in prison, Dale having to face his parents' shame and disappointment... or the worst of all, Dale lying next to me in a hidden plot made for two.
I wrap my arms around myself to try and stop the shudders wracking my body.
My eyes well with tears.
"This is my fault. You've only ever been good to me and all I've done is ruined your life."
Dale slowly turns in the direction of my voice. His expression is a little broken and I turn away from it.
Tears make my voice tremble.
"I'm so sorry for the way I've treated you. I'm sorry for Scarface. I'm sorry for getting you messed up in this."
"It was my choice."
"No it wasn't. A guy with a heart like yours can't walk away from someone in need." I slip off the seat and kneel at his feet. "You are so good, Dale and I'm not."
A sob catches in my throat.
"I should never have chased you down that hallway and demanded you help me, I should have left you alone." I gulp back my sob. "I wish I'd just died when Adam hit me. It would have been better for everybody."
"Don't say that." I look up to see his aching expression. He reaches out to where he thinks I'm sitting. I want to touch him. I want to wrap my hand in his, but instead I stand and move away.
"I have no right... I'm sorry, Dale. I'm so, so sorry." I sniff and try to rest my head against the bars of the cell. It keeps slipping through so I move back and just stand still.
"Nicky," Dale whispers, "you don't need my forgiveness. You need yours."
I look over at him. He's trying to pinpoint where I'm standing, trying to look into my eyes.
"You think you know me, but you don't. You don't know what I've done. I can't change the past and I can't forgive myself. This is just karma catching up with me."
"Tell me what happened."
I open my mouth then clamp it closed.
"I can't."
"Look, whatever it is, I swear I don't care. It won't change how I feel about you."
I pace to the other side of the cell.
"It will... and it should."
"Did my joy riding change your thoughts about me?"
"That's different. You've made something of your life."
"And you'll make something of yours."
He stands to join me, but I squish myself into the corner so he can't find me.
"You should forget you ever heard me, Dale."
"I'll never be able to, Nicky, and you know it."
He tucks a curl back from his face. He thinks he's looking at me, but his direction is a little off. I don't want to correct him. If he actually catches me with that gaze of his, I'll crumble.
No, I have made up my mind. This is over.
"You have to tell people the truth. You need to make sure the Sheriff doesn't pin anything dodgy on you."