Page 68 of Lula Dean's Little Library of Banned Book
“Not that I know of,” Lindsay’s mother said.
“Then you were the only one who could have swapped the titles.”
Lindsay’s mother stole a glance at her. The look lasted a split second, but it told Lindsay that her mom now knew exactly what had happened. “Even if I was, I don’t know how that could possibly be a crime—”
The sheriff cut her off. “Mrs. Dean’s library was on her property. The books inside were stolen.”
“Stolen?” Lindsay’s mom scoffed. “She left them there for people to borrow.”
“But they weren’t borrowed, ma’am. They were replaced with other titles. Whoever took them had no intention of ever bringing them back.”
They heard the sound of footsteps coming up from the basement. The deputies appeared, their arms loaded with books.
“We gotBuffy Halliday Goes to Europe!,Chicken Soup for the Soul,and101 Cakes to Bake for Your Family,” said one.
“We also found a bunch of dust jackets,” said the other. “They’re all from banned books that were removed from the libraries.”
“Beverly? You need some help?” Betsy Wright was standing in the doorway to the living room. The reporter who was there for the interview was recording the encounter on his smartphone.
The sheriff kept his eyes focused on Lindsay’s mother. “Mrs. Underwood, I’m going to need you to come down to the station.”
“It was me.” Lindsay finally stepped forward. “I was here a few weeks ago when the library opened. The very first night, I took the books out of Lula’s library and switched them. My mother had nothing to do with it.”
“That’s not true!” Beverly argued. “My daughter is making it all up. I was the one who did it!”
Lindsay pointed at the dust jackets one of the deputies was holding. “Ask my mother to name three of the books that those jackets were taken from.”
All eyes turned to Beverly Underwood, who’d clearly drawn a blank.
“Lindsay Underwood, you are under arrest for stealing Lula Dean’s little library.” The sheriff took Lindsay by the elbow and guided her toward the door.
“What are you talking about?” Beverly gasped. “This is insane!”
Lindsay was walked outside, where two patrol cars were waiting in the drive. Lula Dean watched from the sidewalk with a smug smile while herlittle white dog finished taking a poop on the Underwoods’ lawn. When Winky stood up, Lula offered a little wave, then turned her back to the scene and sashayed away.
When the Underwood family returned home from the station three hours later, they found a tall, scrawny young man in a Metallica T-shirt waiting for them on the front steps. He rose to his feet as Lindsay and her parents approached and took off his Piggly Wiggly hat. “Afternoon,” he told Trip and Beverly. “You might not remember me. My name’s Ronnie Childers.”
“Of course we remember you,” Lindsay’s mother said, though her husband didn’t look quite so certain. “We never forget Lindsay’s friends.”
“Are you the kid who made the fountain in Jackson Square spray blood?” Trip’s eyes lit up momentarily. “That was clever. Wish I’d thought of it myself when I was twelve.”
“Thank you, sir,” Ronnie said. “I consider that my shining moment. Listen, I’m sorry for ambushing y’all. I just heard about the arrest, and I wanted to come offer my help.”
“No!” Lindsay barked. Her cheeks were tearstained, her fingertips black with ink, and her record sullied. “Absolutely not.”
She saw her parents exchange surprised looks. “That’s very sweet, Ronnie,” Beverly said. “But I’m not sure what you could do.”
“I was there the night the books were switched,” Ronnie said. “My fingerprints are all over them. I’m going to take responsibility.”
“You most certainly are not!” Lindsay could have kicked him in the shin. “It was all my idea and you know it. I just hauled you along for the ride.”
“I don’t understand,” Beverly told Ronnie. “Why on earth would you want to get yourself in trouble?”
Ronnie seemed surprised that anyone had to ask. “Because Lindsay has her whole life in front of her. Mine is already ruined.”
“Ruined?” Trip asked.
“Yessir. Felony possession of a schedule-one substance,” Ronnie informed him.
