Page 76 of The Evening Wolves

“Listen to me,” he whispered. “Did you think about this? Did you think about what this might mean for Colt?”

“I’m doing this for Colt.”

“No, you’re doing this for you, because you’re hurt and you want to punish someone. But this isn’t going to solve anything, Ree. Leaving aside the lawsuits, the fact that you’ll probably get yourself arrested, and the fact that we have been through enough as a family already, you’re not even thinking about the reality of this. What are those boys going to do if you beat the shit out of their dads? Do you think they’re going to shrug and say, ‘Oh well,’ and go on with their lives? They’re going to go after Colt with everything they’ve got. This, up until now, has been bullying. After tonight, though, it’ll be a vendetta.”

“He’s enrolled in a public school. He’s entitled to his personal safety.”

“Are you listening to yourself? We couldn’t protect him at basketball practice, could we? We couldn’t protect him tonight.”

“Then we’ll send him to another school, as you said.”

“Ree!” They pushed through the front doors, and for a moment, the cold locked both of them in place. The world was silent and dark. “Stop this, please. Stop and think about what this means.”

Then the doors opened again, heat and light and bodies pressing out into the dark, and Emery shook John-Henry’s hand from his sleeve and moved forward.

All John-Henry could do was follow him around the side of the building. Emery stopped near the dumpster, where a pile of old pallets was moldering under a blanket of snow, a trail of footprints crisscrossing the concrete apron from Tucker’s back door to the dumpster. A security light carved an orangish wedge out of the night, and it made Emery’s profile alien.

“Please,” John-Henry whispered. “I know you’re upset. I know you’re furious. But please think about Colt right now. There are other ways to handle this, the proper ways. Please think about what’s best for your son.”

The frozen amber of his eyes glittered in the security light. His expression didn’t change. And then, without showing how much it might have cost him, he gave a tiny nod.

John-Henry let out a breath and put himself between Emery and the loose knot of men emerging from the darkness. Drew was in the lead with Redgie at his side. The instigator, Casey, stood a step behind them, and behind him, the other three men made an uneven line.

“Guys, let’s stop this right here,” John-Henry said. For a moment, it was like the last week had fallen away, and he was who he’d always been. He smiled, the right balance of apology and confidence, and held up a hand. He’d always been everyone’s friend. People called it different things—good energy, charisma, animal magnetism. He could feel it, sometimes, the way people responded to him; it had always been that way, ever since he’d been a child. It had made him popular in high school. It had made him successful in college. It had, in ways he never would have expected, let him be a better police officer. And it had been like his own personal key to Emery Hazard, giving him access to the person he had wanted since he’d been a boy. He relaxed into it now, the strain in his muscles easing, his whole body loose. He felt young. Like high school, he thought. Most guys don’t really want a fight. They just don’t know how to back down. “It went too far in there, just like it went too far earlier with Colt. Let’s not make it any worse.”

“Do you hear that?” Casey asked. “He’s afraid.”

John-Henry began, “Redgie—”

Redgie spat. It missed John-Henry’s sneakers, but only barely. The security light made little orange flames in his eyes. He’d been a big deal in high school; he’d been a wrestler. He’d been a big man around town. And one day, John-Henry had punched him in the face, and now, tonight, John-Henry realized he wanted payback.

“Drew,” John-Henry said, taking a step closer, his voice softening because it was meant for one person. They went back, all the way back. All the dumbass nights. All the stupid parties. Lots of good memories—shooting bottle rockets off the dock at Drew’s parents’ place at Lake of the Ozarks, and sharing a limo to Prom, Drew pretending to jimmy the built-in liquor cabinet, and isolated memories of afternoons when they’d done nothing but shoot hoops in the driveway and eat way more pizza than anybody ever should. “Come on, man. You know this isn’t the way to go.”

“You heard what he said about Katie, man,” Casey said.

“This doesn’t have to happen. Nobody heard him say that stuff except you and your friends. This, what’s about to happen out here, this is only going to make everything worse. For us and for you, Drew.”

Drew shook his head. He wouldn’t meet John-Henry’s eyes. In the orange light, his split lip looked fat and swollen.

John-Henry took a step forward. “Drew—”

Drew stepped back, still not meeting John-Henry’s gaze.

“Hey, Drew, come on. I mean, I know things have been tense this week, but we’ve been friends for thirty years.”

Drew gave another shake of his head.

It was disbelief more than anger that made John-Henry step forward again. “Hey, look at me—”

Drew shoved him.

It wasn’t much, but it rocked John-Henry back on his heels. He steadied himself and stared. Drew looked up now. His body was stiff, his shoulders locked. He looked like a kid again, and John-Henry realized with something like shock that Drew didn’t know how to throw a punch. It was like they’d all gone back in time.

“Fine,” John-Henry said when he recovered himself. He tried to relax back into that old John-Henry, the one who always knew what to say, always knew what to do. “Here’s how this is going to go. You’re going to walk back inside, and you’re going to tell everybody you scared us off—”

Drew shoved him again. Harder this time. Hard enough to send John-Henry stumbling back.

Emery made a guttural noise and took a step, but John-Henry waved for him to stay where he was.

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