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Hudson eyed them in the rear-view mirror for a moment. Denny could see beads of sweat on the older man’s forehead. Clearly, he was torn between being a cop and his compassion for Billy. “Like Chief said, he got beat up pretty good. An anonymous call came in early this morning. He was laid out in his car behind the Witch’s Hat out on the town line. The car had a flat and it looked like someone had rolled it into the woods. Your mom tried to call up to Denny’s but there was no answer. We told the school to call us when you arrived, but I guess you never did arrive there.

“Your dad has a concussion and a lot of broken bones. The doctors say as long as there isn’t any internal bleeding, he should be okay.”

Denny felt nauseous, slumping against the car door. Memories of his own father’s accident had been tearing at him since the mention of the word hospital. He tried to push away the image of his dad, bandages covering most of his head and body, tubes and wires sticking out of him all over the place. He shook his head to push the mental picture away. He had to stay alert. This whole thing didn’t make sense, Billy’s dad in a brawl at the Witch’s Hat. “Who else was injured in the brawl?”

Hudson eyed him again in the mirror, his brow creasing causing balls of sweat to race down the side of his face. “That I’m not sure of, Denny. Mr. Cummings is the only one hospitalized that I know of.” Denny thought he wanted to say more, but he didn’t.

Denny could see Billy getting madder and madder. “Are you telling me my father was in a barroom brawl, beaten half to death, and didn’t take anyone down with him? My dad could take on any three of the losers that hang around in the Witch’s Hat and not even break a sweat. What the hell happened, Officer Hudson?”

This time Hudson would not meet their gaze in the mirror. “That’s all I know for now, Billy. Maybe he was jumped or hit from behind. The doctors might be able to tell us more. We haven’t found any witnesses yet.” He pulled the car into a reserved spot by the main entrance to the hospital. “You boys take care, now.”

Once inside the hospital lobby, Billy stopped and grabbed Denny’s arm. “What were you doing back there? Why didn’t you stay to tell Crawford what we found?”

Denny hesitated. Being in the hospital was playing games with his mind. It was still all too clear in his memory, as it probably always would be, coming into this same lobby with his mother. She was really his mother back then. Neither of them knew the extent of the injuries to his father. The police had already told them about Jimmy. They had gotten a ride to the hospital by officer McDermott. It was like an instant replay, time was disintegrating in Denny’s mind and he thought for a moment he was going in to visit his father.

“…Denny? Are you okay?”

Denny returned to the present and tried to compose himself. “Yeah, I’m fine. I don’t think we can trust Crawford. As soon as I saw him… did you see his eyes? They were all red and bloodshot and he kind of looked half crazy. If he finds out about the caves, he’ll use it against Paul. Remember the story about how they caught him in ’61? There was a canoe on the lake when they found Paul with that dead girl. Crawford’ll say Paul was trying to get her into the canoe to bring her to his secret cave. It’ll fit too nice with his suspicions. I think we need to figure something else out. Let’s worry about it after we see your dad.”

They spoke to a woman at the information desk and were instructed on how to get to Mr. Cummings’ room. They would have to stop at the desk in the Intensive Care Unit as he was still in serious condition. The woman, who was wearing a huge smiley face button, did say that his condition was stable but she had no more details. They took the elevator to the third floor. For Denny it was an eternity. He couldn’t remember even being on an elevator since his last trip to the ICU. The past and present began to blur once again in his mind. That final visit when they were told the inevitable. There was nothing the doctors could do for Denny’s father. Tests showed no brain activity. He was essentially being kept alive by machines that regulated his heartbeat and breathing. Those machines would be shut down, with Mrs. O’Brien’s consent.

The elevator came to an abrupt stop and the doors slid open. Denny and Billy went to the desk to ask about Mr. Cummings. The nurse on duty was a pretty blonde girl. To Denny she looked too young to be a nurse. She explained that Mr. Cummings had sustained a concussion but there seemed to be no brain damage. He had several broken bones, including his nose and a few ribs. There were multiple bruises and lacerations, many requiring stitches. She explained that it would be somewhat of a shock to see him because of the cuts and bandages but that there was no indication of any internal injuries. She also told the boys that normally only adults would be allowed in, and especially only direct family, but because of the circumstances, Mr. Cummings had convinced the doctor to let both Billy and Denny in. He had insisted on it, as a matter of fact. Then she led them into the room.

(59)

Chief Crawford took a long drag on his cigarette, unsure of what to say to the boy. Interrogation was one of his favorite parts of the job. Give him a hard-ass thug trying to stay tightlipped about something and he’d break him. Give him the reluctant witness and Crawford would coax him into whatever statement was convenient to his case. But a kid… shit he couldn’t talk to his own no-good son never mind some ten-year-old that had just watched his father murdered. Allegedly. Crawford knew Jenk was a hard, sloppy drinker and probably got heavy-handed when drunk. He saw the telltale marks of an abused kid. He ignored the similarities to his own life that stared him in the face and pushed out his cigarette in an overflowing ashtray.

“Sean, tell me again what happened, what you think you saw. Take it slow and think real hard, lying to a police officer isn’t very good idea.”

Sean winced, “I’m not lying. I already told you twice what happened.” He jutted his chin at the tape recorder running at the end of the table. “Just rewind that and listen to it, I don’t feel like telling it again.”

Crawford smiled. The kid was trying to sound tough but was on the verge of tears. “Okay, let’s talk about something else. Like the bruises on your back. And how you broke your arm in two places last year.” Crawford had insisted the kid get checked out after he was brought into the station hysterical about what happened to his dad. When the doctor mentioned the bruises, Crawford bullied him into looking up his records and found the broken arm. Crawford knew he had the kid. Sean dropped his eyes, the defiance stripped out of him by Crawford’s words.

“I slipped on some wet leaves on the porch steps and landed on my back. Last summer I fell off my skateboard.” His voice had gone monotone, robotic. Like he was reading a script.

“Sean, we both know how you go the bruises and the busted arm. I know… knew your dad. I know how he got when he drank and how much he missed your ma. It’s not his fault; it’s just how he handled his grief.”

Sean looked at him with wide-eyed hope. His secret was out in the open and Crawford had played the concerned cop to perfection. Tears rolled down Sean’s cheeks. “He… he didn’t mean to h-hurt me, I just made him m-mad. He was always sorry.”

Crawford looked up as Ortiz stepped into the room and nodded at him. What the fuck is he doing here?

The trap was set, now to spring it. “I know Sean. And sometimes you can only take so much. Sometimes you need to do some hurting of your own. He was going to hurt you again this morning, wasn’t he? But this time you were brave, you’d had enough. Does that sound about right, Sean?”

The boy recoiled when Crawford’s thinly veiled accusation hit him. His face, already red from crying, went deep scarlet. “You think I… hurt my own father? You think I killed my dad?” His voice was rising, but steady. “You stupid, shit-kicking bastard. My dad was right, you’re a no-good country bumpkin redneck!”