Page 9 of Inside Silence
“Show me a prison with an endless supply of chocolate chip waffles in the freezer,” I whisper in her ear before grabbing my cell phone and keys off the counter and heading out the door.
So much for my plans to make sure Tate eats healthy. Last night I caved at the sight of a cooler full of my daughter’s favorite breakfast at the grocery store when I was picking up a few things.
Parenting 101; when all else fails, try bribery.
What can I say, I’m desperate to get my daughter to actually talk to me instead of arguing or giving me the silent treatment. It’s exhausting.
The irony doesn’t escape me when I pull up to the sheriff’s station. Last time I was here, I was basically run out of town. Today I’m here by invitation.
I vaguely recognize the woman who is waiting for me when I walk in the door. I take the hand she offers me.
“Thanks for coming on such short notice. Good to have you back in Silence, Nathan.”
The derisive snort escapes me before I can check it. She takes it with a smile.
“You probably don’t remember me, it’s Brenda. I’ve worked for the county sheriff’s department for over twenty-five years. I remember you,” she states, wagging a finger in my face. “And for the record, I think you got a bum deal.”
Not what I expected to hear and I’m not quite sure how to respond to it, so I move on to the reason I’m here.
“Where is the damage?”
“The holding cells in the back,” she indicates, suddenly all business. She motions for me to follow her as she briskly moves toward the rear of the building.
I hate to say I’m well acquainted with the holding cells. I should be, I spent enough time there as the juvenile delinquent I was. Vandalism, breaking and entering, public intoxication, a brawl or two. What can I say? I was your proverbial bad boy from the wrong side of the tracks and for a while tried to live up to that reputation. A reputation that turned out to be difficult to shed after I smartened up and stuck to the straight and narrow.
Three cells side by side against the back wall, floor-to-ceiling steel bars securing what currently appears to be a single drunk, sleeping it off on the narrow bunk at the far left. He seems oblivious to the mess in the cell on the right, when wet insulation is spilling out of a giant hole in the ceiling.
“Never mind him,” Brenda suggests. “It’ll be at least another four or five hours before Chance realizes where he is.” She chuckles. “He didn’t even wake up at the loud crash when the ceiling came down.”
Then she claps me on the shoulder. “Well, I’ll leave you to it. I turned off the water main in the basement through there.” She points at a door on the far side. “But I managed to make a fresh pot of coffee first. It’s in the kitchen, help yourself.”
With that she disappears down the hall.
I subject the hole in the ceiling to closer scrutiny before heading back the way I came in to grab a ladder off my truck. In passing, I glance over at the drunk who hasn’t so much as twitched.
I have a feeling it’s going to be a long morning.
“The fuck are you doing here?”
I try to swing around at the booming voice but am suddenly, violently shoved up against the counter, the coffeepot slipping from my hand and shattering on the floor.
Next thing I know, a thick arm wraps around my neck, closing on me in a chokehold.
I’m so stunned, I don’t have a chance to react, when that same voice hisses in my ear.
“You must be some kind of fucking idiot to show your face here, you useless piece of shit.”
That emphatically slung insult triggers my memory. It used to be Deputy Sanchuk’s favorite. Unbelievable that bully bastard still wears a damn badge.
Just as I grab at his hand and start to peel his thumb back, I hear Savvy’s voice.
“Jeff! What the hell is the matter with you?”
Followed by Brenda’s. “Let him go, you big oaf! He’s here to fix the ceiling.”
While the women are yelling, I manage to get a firm grip on his digit and bend it back sharply. Immediately the pressure on my neck releases as he lets out a satisfying yelp. I cough a few times as I turn around.
“Serves you right if he broke it,” Brenda scolds Sanchuk, who is now cradling one hand with the other.
