Page 127 of Sugarloaf Ridge Lies

Chapter Forty

Liv

Surrounded by trucks, old tires, and tip trailers in various states of decay, cat calls ring out as gravel crunches beneath my boots while I cross the heart of the old depot. A group of six or so men in navy and fluorescent orange uniforms loiter near a fire crackling in a forty-four-gallon drum. I ignore their taunts and stride towards the shipping container with a rusted tin sign that says“OFFICE”. Should I be here? Will he even be around on a Saturday morning?

I couldn’t get him off my mind as I tossed and turned last night. Maybe it’s a sign, telling me I need to deal with this before things go any further.

I slide open a glass door covered in handprints and dust, then step into the office. An old man with scruffy grey hair glances up from behind a desk littered with piles of paperwork. He does a double take, dark eyes widening, his smile revealing missing teeth. “Howdy.”

“Hi, I’m looking for Geoffrey. Geoffrey Clayton.”

“Well, ain’t that just my luck. Here I was thinkin’ I had someone other than these mugs to jabber with.” He chuckles, which turns into a chesty cough, his lungs rattling, indicating a lifetime of smoking, perhaps.Gross. He points out towards the dirt yard. “You’ll find him down back in the workshop. Out and to the left.”

“Thanks.”

I make my way towards a mission-brown tin shed, the gutters rusted and hanging loose on one end. When I step into the cool shadow of the building, the hairs on the back of my neck prickle at the sight of him. Perched on a plastic milk crate, sipping a can of Coke, Geoffrey’s attention is held by a man with a hunched back in a stained blue jumpsuit who toys with an engine part with his blackened fingers.

My mouth goes dry.Is this a bad idea? Confronting him on his turf?

Geoffrey squints in my direction and chips, “We got ourselves some company.” As he stalks towards me, a scowl sweeps over his stubbled face. “Whaddya want?”

Ah, he recognises me.

I pull back my shoulders. “Can I have a word outside, please?”

He shrugs. “Sure. This’ll be good.”

The temperature of my blood rises at his smart-arse attitude. I turn on my heel and walk far enough from the shadows so that our conversation is unlikely to be overheard.

“I’m here about the charges against Jerry McAllister.”

“Ha.” He hooks his hands on his hips and narrows his eyes. “What about ’em?”

I suck in a deep breath. “I’d like you to drop them.”

He laughs like a hyena. It’s unsettling. “Now why in the fuck would I do that? The guy broke my fuckin’ nose.” He points to the bent appendage, as if it doesn’t already stand out a mile. My guess is surgery didn’t go so well.

“I know, and Jerry is sorry about that.”

He smirks. It’s a lie, we both know it. Jerry would do it all over in a heartbeat.

I sweep my hands over my stomach and settle them over my belly button.Which is slowly turning inside out.It draws his beady eyes downwards.

“Do you have children?” I ask. Hopefully I can appeal to some part of him that might see reason.

“Fuck no.”

Well, there goes that approach.

“Jerry and I have one on the way, and I’m sure you can appreciate what something like this would do to our family.”

He snorts. “You think I give a fuck?”

Okay, that’s it. If this guy wants to play hardball, I’ll play.

“Maybe not, but you know what I find interesting?” I bite on the inside of my cheek.

“What?”

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