it in after my old man has gone to bed.” His words were slurred a little.
“How much did you drink?” Luke asked, as if they were simply talking.
“A few beers.”
“Two, three, six…”
He looked down. “Six, I guess. It was a bad day. The coach told me I’m benched for grades and if they don’t come up I’m off the team. Before next Saturday, I got to tell my dad that I’m not playing.”
No one said a word, but Nana reached over and patted his hand.
Dillon slowly pulled it out of her reach and looked back at Luke. “I was only planning to sample some of the pills I bought. I must have taken too many. I remember it started raining and I just sat there trying to figure out what was happening. Then, I felt sick, real sick. I stood to throw up off the dam and the whole world started spinning. You know, like the world starts circling too fast and gravity starts to give?”
None of us looked like we understood.
Luke leaned forward. “You didn’t fall in on purpose?”
“Hell, no.” He shook his hair out of his eyes. “I got a date Friday night with Brandy Russell.”
His laugh held no humor. “Besides, I’d never have to kill myself-my dad will probably do that for me when he hears I’m not on the team for much longer. You don’t know how much it means to him that I play ball.”
“Where are the rest of the pills?” Luke changed the subject.
“The bottom of the lake, I guess.” Dillon rubbed his forehead, then winced with the pain. “I think the boat clobbered me when we flipped.”
“Where do you hurt?” Luke didn’t sound too interested. So much for bedside manner.
“Everywhere,” Dillon answered. “Look, man, you can’t tell my dad. I’ll do whatever you say. I’ll swear never to take another pill or drink another beer, but you got to forget this ever happened. I’ll tell Dad I fell during football practice and got clobbered at the bottom of a pile.” He looked up at the people surrounding him and lowered his head in his hands.
I heard him gulp back tears.
“I wish I’d died in that water. I might have survived his disappointment about football, but if he finds out I did drugs he’ll think I’m nothing but a loser. He’ll never stop lecturing me, or worse, he’ll start ignoring me. I’ll be dead to him. I’ll be just one of the low-life losers who never went anywhere. I’ll be worthless. I’ll be…”
Timothy finished the boy’s sentence. “You’ll be one of us.”
Dillon raised his battered face, bruised and tearstained. His wide-eyed gaze moved from one of us to the other. I felt like a performer in a freak show who always thought she lived in the normal world until catching the first glance through the eyes of a stranger.
Luke leaned forward and laced his big hands together in front of him. “We won’t tell.” He spoke for us all. “But I know a way you can make your father proud of you that in his line of work might mean more than scoring a touchdown. You can help put whoever’s dealing drugs in jail.”
Mrs. Deals puffed up like a blowfish. “You’re not going to put this boy in any danger, are you, Luke? I’ll not stand by and allow you to do that.”
“No,” he answered. “I promise.”
Mary Lynn raised her hand. “I want to help also on this quest. I’ve got the only house that’s near enough to the dam to keep a lookout.”
“If she’s helping, I’m in, too.” Paul placed his hand gently on her shoulder. “From her window we can track every car that goes over the bridge.”
“I’m in for a shift. It’ll be something to do besides sit on the lake,” Timothy answered.
Everyone started talking at once. No one seemed to hear Luke’s repeated warning that none of them needed to get involved. Even Willie said he’d run a lookout from the shoreline and Nana started planning the stakeout menu.
As the storm raged, the Jefferson’s Crossing army formed and drafted Luke as our leader. I watched him argue, then debate, then finally give in. They all wanted to help and I think deep down he knew he needed us.
When I met his gaze a few minutes later, I saw acceptance. And something else. Worry.
I had to wonder if we had any idea what we were getting into.
Chapter 28
Luke stood on the porch and watched the last of his new drug-fighting force leave. A heartbroken banker, a bossy old woman, a Pollyannaish old maid, two kids-one who wanted to kill himself with drugs and another who seemed to be trying just to die before he had to become an accountant. Luke almost laughed out loud when his mind added one stinky fisherman and Nana, who didn’t even grasp that there was a problem. If this had been a work assignment Luke would have turned his supervisor in for cruel and unusual punishment.
He’d made the suggestion to Dillon of helping because he thought it might be good for the boy’s ego to know that there was more to life than football. The quickly formed plan had been simple: Luke would ask Dillon to describe the drug dealer while Allie drew. With luck he’d have a likeness to work from. Once he caught the snake, Dillon would be proud of his involvement in a drug bust within his father’s territory.
But he’d been blindsided by all the others forcing their way in. He couldn’t make them understand that this wasn’t a scavenger hunt. What he planned to do was dangerous. People got hurt sometimes.
From the moment he suspected drugs, he’d been trying to protect the people here, not recruit them.
But it appeared that heroes come in all sizes and ages. And smells. Luke smiled, remembering the way Mrs. Deals sniffed Willie before she’d let him back inside even after he’d changed into clean clothes.
In truth, it wasn’t a bad idea for them all to keep an eye out for someone acting strange. The ATF didn’t have enough men to send out agents to this small community in hopes of catching one dealer doing one buy. That kind of bust usually didn’t even earn the bad guy more than a few months in jail, if any. With the sheriff writing off the last fire as lightning, there was a good chance no one higher up would send backup even if Luke did turn in a report tonight.
The last time he’d gone into the office, his boss had suggested Luke let the old man rest in peace. The department had cases backed up. Jefferson Platt’s death was so far down in the order of importance it would never be investigated-unless Luke took the time. And for Jefferson, he’d do just that.
Luke might be wrong, but he felt somehow the drugs and the fires and Jefferson’s death were connected. And in his line of work, he’d learned to trust his gut.
Leaning his head against the wall, he tapped a tin sign. It rattled in his ears like doubts coming to call. He had to be careful. Put none of them in danger. Keep them quiet about what they were doing.
Dillon, of all the people plotting around the potbellied stove, would be the one who might break. He might brag to his dad. He’d gone home sobered with coffee and swearing he wouldn’t say a word, but Luke wasn’t sure what the boy would do if his father interrogated him. And, after all, Luke had only asked him to give a description of the drug dealer.
How dangerous could that be? Common sense told Luke the sheriff should know; after all, it was his jurisdiction. But something didn’t settle right in his mind. Fletcher seemed more about counting the days to retirement than wanting to join in on a bust. A drug deal in his county would look bad, not good for him. No crime gathered more votes than a long arrest list.
The lights went off one by one in the house. Allie and her Nana were going up to bed. He heard her slide one of the upstairs windows open. The storm had left everything newborn and fresh. Luke closed his eyes and breathed deep. The smell of the land and lake seeped into his soul.
Memories of his times with his grandfather here blended as thick as today’s problems. Maybe that was why
