Page 18 of Dare
“Sure.”It’s clear she can’t wait for me to leave, and as much as I want to stay andsmooth things over, I have to see what’s up with Justus. He’s not the moststable guy when he isn’t upset.
Iplant one more kiss on her soft lips before she closes the door behind me.
Justusis standing at my kitchen counter, pouring a shot of whiskey from the bottle Ialways keep in the cabinet. “Dude, you finally nailing the neighbor girlinstead of eavesdropping on her?”
“No.”I grab the bottle from his hand and take a drink. Something tells me I’m goingto need it. “You want to tell me what’s going on?”
Hesighs, and shuffles his feet, his ears glowing red as he stares at the counter.“I know I said I’d stay at the farm, but I can’t. It’s fucking creepy.Seriously, you wouldn’t believe the noises I heard. I think the bastard ishaunting the place.”
Tryingnot to smile, I ask, “Have you ever spent the night in the country?”
“I’vespent a few nights in that house with Jed.” He slides the shot glass toward me,and I refill it. “It doesn’t matter. It won’t work in the long run anyway. Overan hour and a half commute to work and to ISH? We have to find someone else.”
Ihave someone in mind to take Jed’s place, but it’s risky. We’ll have to letanother person in on the secret of what we do, and, really, how many people aregoing to be okay not only with us killing an abuser, but also with living onthe property where we dispose of the remains?
“Ihave someone in mind,” I reveal.
Justuslooks up with a mixture of relief and curiosity. “Yeah? Who?”
Mymind wanders back to my last conversation with Tucker. After I brought him theburger the first time, I made a habit of grabbing him something whenever Istopped for dinner. We usually sit and eat on the curb, and last time was noexception.
“Don’tyou get disability or a pension or something from the military?” I asked him.
“Notwhen you’re dishonorably discharged and court martialed.”
Silencedescended for a few moments before I volunteered, “I’ve done time, too. Stateprison.”
“Yeah?How long?”
“Threeyears.”
“Four,”he said, tossing a burnt French fry aside.
“Youwin.”
Hefrowns, staring in the distance. “Pretty sure we both lost.”
“It’staking me a while to bounce back.”
“Whatwere you in for?”
“Aggravatedassault. I beat my sister’s abuser half to death. Put the fucker in awheelchair.”
Helooked at me like he was seeing me for the first time. “No shit? Your sisterokay?”
“She’sdoing good. Going to college.”
“Worthit then,” he mumbled.
“Iwouldn’t do it differently if I had the chance.”
Wechewed in silence, ignoring the curious glances from the neighbors making theirway to their doors. I was a second away from asking him what got him locked up,when he balled up his hamburger wrapper. “Involuntary manslaughter.”
Damn.“Here or when you were deployed?”
“Afghanistan.I shot a man in my unit. He was raping a young Afghani girl.”
“Andthey locked you up for that?” Shit, wasn’t there a law in place if you were defendingsomeone else?
