A few moments later, the barn doors creaked open and Charlie stepped out. He dragged a large chain across the door handles and snapped a padlock through the links. Sandy felt Purcell stiffen up beside her, and knew that Charlie had made a mistake. He shouldn’t have made a big deal about locking the barn.
Now she was curious. She figured it probably was something that might compromise their chances of being certified organic, and filed the question away for later. Right now she had to deal with getting the USDA man off the farm without too much of a battle.
As Charlie sauntered over, shielding his eyes against the sun, Sandy’s radio erupted. “Attention, all units. Attention, all units. Multiple reports of shots fired, Pleasant Prairie Trailer Haven. Repeat, multiple reports of gunfire. Please respond.”
Sandy froze. She knew she was at least fifteen, maybe twenty minutes away; all the officers covering the Morton service were much, much closer. As she reached for her radio, she heard Sheriff Hoyt’s voice, “Ten-four. On our way.”
A flurry of other voices echoed Sheriff Hoyt. Sandy knew she should finish here first, then head into town to assist in any way possible. Still, she wanted to get there as soon as she could. She fixed Charlie with a cold stare and didn’t waste any time. “Did you assault this man in any way?”
“Fuck no. He say that?”
“Did you threaten him with physical violence?”
Charlie scratched his head, shrugged. “Not that I remember exactly. All I did is stay between him and his truck until Axe got there with the tow truck. I might have mentioned a few things that could go wrong, him trespassing and all.”
She turned back to Purcell. “I’m doing my best to help you out, but you need to listen. This shouldn’t be a surprise. You know damn well you cannot take this man and his vehicle hostage. Best you can do for yourself is turn him loose immediately. Longer you keep him up in the air like that, the worse he’s gonna sue.”
That got Purcell’s attention. “He can’t sue me. He’s the trespasser here. This is my property. Thought that would be clear as daylight.”
Sandy shook her head. “He’s doing his job. You might as well have invited him over yourself.”
Purcell stuck his hands in his jeans and thought about it a moment. “What a pisser. Hard to get ahead when the game is rigged against you right from the start. Boys, you pay attention. There’s a lesson to be learned here.”
Voices burst over Sandy’s radio. “Shots fired! Officer down. Officer down.”
Sandy could not have cared any less about the argument between the idiots out at Purcell’s farm, but it was her responsibility. It sounded like all kinds of hell was breaking loose in town, and she tried not to let the urgency show on her face. “Look, gentlemen. We need to wrap this up.”
Purcell nodded. “Axel. Let him down. Now. See if we can’t work something out with the man.”
Axel didn’t like it, but he flipped a lever and released the pickup all at once. The rear wheels crashed down, and the whole back end of the pickup bounced twice. Sandy knocked impatiently on the window. “Sir, you need to step out here now.”
“The hell I do,” the USDA guy said. “You people are crazy.”
Sandy said, “Next time, I’d research my clients a little closer. Might not be a bad idea to find out if they’re liable to shoot trespassers on sight.”
Purcell leaned on the hood and waved through the windshield. “Sorry about this little mix-up. Hope this doesn’t screw up our certification chances.”
“Fuck you!” the USDA man yelled and cranked the engine over.
Sandy’s radio crackled. “Suspect is a young male. Thirteen to fifteen years of age. Armed and dangerous.”
A cold, spiky feeling grew in the center of Sandy’s chest. She pulled out her cell phone and quickly found the contact number for Kevin’s school.
The USDA man hit the gas and tore out of the driveway, spraying gravel in his wake. He barely missed Sandy’s cruiser and was gone in a cloud of dust that hung in the air like a brown fog.
Sandy heard the prerecorded message and hit the button to speak with the office.
“District seventy-nine, how can I help you?”
“Hi, this is Sandy Chisel. I would like to speak with my son Kevin, please. He is in Mr. Humpher’s math class.”
“One moment.”
Sandy turned to find Purcell and his sons watching her. At that moment, she had no idea what to say to the Fitzgimmon men.
The office secretary got back on the phone and said, “I’m sorry. Kevin is not at school today. His teacher reported him absent.”
Jerm could have sworn he’d already shot the little shit. Several times. That wasn’t the only thing he was confused about. He had no memory of coming home last night. The last thing he remembered was that police cruiser whispering out of the darkness and scaring the shit out of him. There was something after that, something about hiding out in a big pipe, but then… nothing.
He couldn’t tell if he’d been to school already. Wasn’t sure if he’d taken the gun. Vague images of floating down the hallway, shooting a bunch of people, especially all those cocksucking teachers, drifted through his head. Something about putting the barrel of his new handgun between Kevin’s teeth and pulling the trigger, watching the prick’s brains splatter all over the lockers.
Was it real? Was it a dream? It was all getting kind of slippery.
Dream or not, the little fucker was dead now. At least, as best as he could tell. Jerm’s eyes weren’t working so well. Everything was sort of stretched from side to side. Nothing lined up like it used to. He’d felt and heard the gun going off, no question about that. But it wasn’t like the memory of when he shot Kevin back in the school. There was no clear moment this time where he saw the back of Kevin’s head explode.
He crawled forward. There. There was the punk-ass bitch. Sprawled out across the front sidewalk. Wasn’t moving. Looked dead enough. Jerm shrank back. The light bothered his eyes. Daylight made everything—the headache, the weird shit going on with his vision, his memory—made it all worse.
He heard thumping in the trailer above. Heard his mom yell, “What the fuck was that?” She stomped over and kicked open the screen door. He heard her give a girlish little shriek when she saw Kevin’s body. She came thundering down the front steps, yelling, “What happened? What the fuck happened?” She caught her breath and managed to bend over and peer into the darkness under the trailer. Jerm was surprised she’d gotten off the couch in the first place. She yelled at him, “What the fuck are you doing?”
Jerm didn’t think. It was all a dream anyway. He felt curiously outside himself, as he was merely a casual observer, peering in through some dim windows at someone else’s fantasies. Saw himself raise the handgun and squeeze off a round. His mom’s face jerked, crinkled somehow, as if she’d just taken a big bite of a sour lemon, and her nose disappeared in a burst of red.
Blue gun smoke swirled hypnotically in the space between the light and shadow. He liked that. Took a breath, pursed his lips, and blew a stream of heat out into the smoke, creating a roiling vortex.
He’d be lying if he said that shooting his mom didn’t feel awful damn good. He liked the weight of the gun. Liked how he could simply point the barrel, pull the trigger, and shit in his life went away. It made him feel so good that he crawled out of the darkness and out into the daylight. He didn’t like how the light and heat had a sharp edge that peeled him open, but he wanted to feel that sensation again, to feel the gun jerk in his hands, watch the blue smoke circle his head, as he basked in the knowledge that he’d just erased more goddamn useless pain and bullshit from his life.