Page 15 of Xavier

My thoughts get stuck on one part of his statement. Old Man Brown’s house. What kind of name is that?

I raise my eyebrow at Hudson and wait for an explanation.

“That’s what we called your dad.”

I figured that much, but why?

I’ll have to ask him later. For now, I need to make sure I don’t wind up in jail tonight.

“Interesting.” My tone is flat as I try to assess the police officer.

If he knows anything about Gunny’s past, then either Gunny trusts him or the officer is also prior military.

He’s got the infamous high and tight haircut, so the latter is more probable.

The officer glances my way. “You’re Brown’s son?”

I give him a slight nod. “Yes, sir. He gave me his house after he passed away.”

Is it a good thing that they knew Dad?

Did Dad lie low here, or did he cause problems?

Was he a beloved member of the community, or did he keep to himself?

Did he ever talk about me, or did he pretend I never existed? If he did mention me, how much do the locals know?

The police officer nods his head, oblivious to my inner tirade.

“Your dad was a great man. He was honest, loyal, and reliable. He helped me get on with the department after I retired from the Navy. Did twenty-two years as military police. I’m truly sorry for your loss.”

I shrug. “I never knew that side of him.”

I’ve only known him as a mean, stubborn, hard ass man. He never was loving, caring, or soft. He didn’t pick me up from school or come to parent-teacher conferences.

We didn’t throw a football together or play catch in the backyard. And we sure as shit didn’t live in this small town.

“Stick around town and you might find out a thing or two about your old man.”

I say the first thing I can think of. “That’s the plan.”

Prior to this conversation, I never planned to dig into my dad’s past and how he lived here. Now, that’s all I want to do.

“Just stay out of trouble, and no more bar fights.” He hands me my license before turning toward the man hunched over.

“Still causing problems in my town, huh, David?”

He points his dirty, sausage-like finger my way. “He started it.”

The officer doesn’t even glance my way. “He wasn’t here last weekend when you were involved in a bar fight.”

David glares at me before returning his gaze to the police officer. “That wasn’t my fault, either.”

“Of course not. Nothing is ever your fault.”

I know I shouldn’t interrupt the officer after he let me go with just a warning, but I still do.

“Actually, officer, I did start this fight, and I’m prepared to face the consequences. However, I believe David owes that lady an apology first and foremost.”

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