There was hesitation.
“DO YOU UNDERSTAND!” he bellowed.
“Yes. Yes,” they hollered back. Hank released his grip and rose to his feet. Seth rolled, coughing and spluttering. Derek hurried over to his brother to help him.
Hank placed the handgun back in his jeans and covered it with his shirt. He was furious. “I did not raise animals. Do you hear me? There is a way we do this, and it’s not this way. I raised you better than this.”
The silence could have been cut with a knife.
His eyes roamed, looking for even one that wasn’t paying attention.
He was about to leave when the storm door opened and out stepped Nancy.
He narrowed his gaze. “Nancy?”
“I see things haven’t changed,” she said.
“When did you get out? How did you get out?” he said.
“They let me go.” She stepped down and made her way over. She had this swagger that only Nancy could pull off. She was different from her sisters. A wild card. She wasn’t afraid of his outbursts. He hadn’t seen her since they’d put her away. He didn’t want to see her. He took hold of her but didn’t hug her. He had his reasons.
“How? Why?” he asked.
“Said it was to do with overcrowding. I don’t know. I didn’t argue. I’m just glad to be out.”
“Yeah, well, maybe you can talk some sense into your brothers.”
She looked at them and smirked. “Boys will be boys, isn’t that what you used to say? Monkey see, monkey do, isn’t that right, Dad?”
He stepped back. She was the only one that ever challenged him. The only one that called him out. Maybe that’s what bothered him. She was too much like her mother for her own good. Outspoken. Strong-willed. Certainly not moldable like the others. “Sober up!” he yelled at the others. “And turn that shit off!” he bellowed, pointing at the battery-operated ghetto blaster before heading back to the ATV.
“And nice to see you again, Dad,” Nancy said, a smile lurking at the corner of her mouth.
TWELVE Dan Wilder
Eureka, Humboldt County
It was a damn circus. Dan hadn’t had a moment of peace since the event had begun. When news of Miriam Riker’s attack reached him, he was in the shitter, having a joint, trying to get a grip on the situation facing the county. Many locals were calling for answers, real solutions, and he didn’t have them. While he’d managed to secure what supplies remained, figuring out who to distribute them to without starting a riot was a massive headache.
“Sheriff. You in there?” Johnson asked.
He dropped the joint down the toilet and waved a hand in front of his face.
“Be right out.”
The toilets still flushed manually by pouring a bucket of water down them.
He lifted the one in his stall and dumped the contents, watching his sweet joint disappear.
Dan exited. “What is it?”
“Martha Riker is here to see you.”
Johnson sniffed the air. “You, uh…?”
He thumbed over his shoulder. “No, I’ve been meaning to ask who’s been smoking pot in the toilet. It stinks. Maybe you can look into it,” he said as he walked by him and returned to his office. It was legal but still frowned upon by law enforcement. The stigma would take years to change. He didn’t care who knew, but he didn’t want Johnson thinking any less of him.
Heading to his office, he wondered what she wanted.
Few women in this world intimidated him, but Martha Riker was one of them. He’d heard stories of people getting on the wrong side of her. She was already seated, her back to him as he entered.
He kept the door open for his protection.
“Martha. What a pleasant surprise. What brings you in?”
She wore a short black leather jacket over a bohemian dress. Her long silver dreadlocks loosely draped over her shoulders. “You’re telling me you haven’t heard?”
He stood off to the edge of the desk. “Hold that thought. Can I get you a coffee?”
“No.”
“You don’t mind if I have one, do you?”
She gestured with a hand to his V60 behind him. “Knock your socks off.” He had a small jet-boil stove that he used to heat the water. As he prepared his drink, he continued talking. The act of doing something while he spoke helped him not look so nervous.
The fact was it was his third cup already, and his nerves were shot.
“Now what was it that I haven’t heard?”
“My daughter was attacked today.”
He turned. “What?”
“Oh, come now, are you telling me one of your officers hasn’t told you?”
“I’m sorry, but we’ve been pushed to our limits lately. Communication has fallen by the wayside.”
“Typical! Well, let me bring you up to speed. My daughter was beaten and possibly raped. That I won’t be sure of until she regains consciousness. Right now, she hasn’t opened her eyes.”
“Where did this happen?”
“In the vicinity of the Stricklands.”
“Oh God,” he muttered under his breath. “Have you filed a report?”
Martha widened her eyes.
“It’s just protocol. I didn’t mean to sound like I didn’t care.”
“Of course you didn’t.”
He tapped the air with his finger. “Okay.” He reached into his desk and took out a form, and was about to take a statement when she told him not to bother.
“I’m not here about that. Though you’d be wise to find out who was behind it before I do.”
“That sounds like a threat, Martha.”
She chuckled. “I think you know me enough to know I don’t make idle threats.”
That’s what bothered him.
Hank, her, they were cut from the same cloth. Their word meant everything. When they said something, it happened. Proving they were behind a crime, that was another thing entirely. They were careful, unscrupulous individuals who knew when to speak and when not. In many ways, it was like a game of chess. They spent a lot of time observing before they made a move, but when they did, it was always one that ended in checkmate. “It’s come to my attention that three of the Strickland boys were murdered, is that right?”
He picked up a pencil
