My utter bewilderment doesn’t get the chance to fully register. Sheriff Dumont and his posse of deputies are charging my way. They have every exit covered, and before I can discover if Jae’s bid to revive Cecil is successful, I’m tackled, cuffed, read my rights, then carted to a sheriff’s office three towns over to face charges of reckless driving, endangering the life of an officer, and evading police.
It also commences hours of silence that ramps up my agitation to the point of no return when I’m marched into the sheriff’s office to be formally interviewed.
“Is Cecil o-okay? Did he pull t-through?”
I’ve asked the same two questions every time my cell door was marched past in the last eight hours. My focus should be on my illegal incarceration, but until I know Cecil is okay, I won’t be able to concentrate on anything but him. I’m so fucking desperate for answers, I’d plead guilty if it guaranteed me a small moment of reprieve.
“Answer me, is Cecil o-okay?”
I thought the fury lining my face was the cause of Sheriff Dumont’s frantic swallows but learn otherwise when a gruff, accented voice on my left asks, “Who is this Cecil he keeps referencing?”
With my heart in my throat, I spin around to face my father. He’s aged disgracefully the past almost four years. I’m not surprised. From what I’ve heard, burying your child before you ages you at double the speed, not to mention the horrifying rate when you’re the reason she’s dead.
“From what I was informed on arrival, the town folk weren’t aware of your lineage until your fingerprints were scanned into the system.” He steps closer to me, his face more crinkled with anger than time. “That you were hiding from themandme. Was that a lie?”
As much as I despise Sheriff Dumont, the clicking of my father’s fingers gives me no choice but to loosen the noose around his neck instead of tightening it. If I don’t deny his claims, Mario, my father’s second in charge, will kill Sheriff Dumont where he sits. “No. That w-wasn’t a lie. I kept my identity hidden from e-everyone. Cecil was the man I knocked over while stealing his truck. I’m just eager to know if I’m facing murder charges or j-just assault.”
“J-Just assault.” My father’s smug grin exposes he’s pleased by my thug ways, but his tone indicates he still loathes my stutter. After locking his eyes with the sheriff, he asks in a condescending manner, “So, is he dead or alive?”
“Umm… He’s ah…” Sheriff Dumont checks some paperwork in front of him. “Recovering at thehospital.” He lifts and locks his eyes with mine. Although they show his gratitude that I didn’t rat him out, there’s something off with them. He wears the face of a snitch extremely well. “And since there are no charges pending, you’re free to go see for yourself.”
“You’re l-letting me off scot-free?” There’s something I’m missing. Something big. “I stole a truck, r-rammed it into your cruiser, and almost ran you over, b-but you’re just going to let me go?”
His chin quivers as his head bobs up and down. “You veered to miss me, and the damage to my car is minor. The scratches will buff out.”
I glare at him in shock.
I pulled him from the fire, yet he leaves me to burn the aftermath of his rescue.
What a fucking coward!
“What about Cecil? I almost k-killed him.” My anger smooths out my jutted words, but there’s no way I can’t express remorse when referencing to falsely hurting Cecil. He’s been there for me in ways my father couldn’t ever comprehend. If it weren’t for him, I’d be dead. There is no doubt about this.
“He doesn’t want to press charges.” I call Sheriff Dumont every name under the sun when he mutters, “He just wants to live out his final years in peace.As we all do.” His last sentence is barely a whisper.
I understand that he’s scared and that my father will rain all types of hell over his life if he finds out how much a sleepy town like this makes per year, but common decency when you save someone’s life is to repay the courtesy. You’re not meant to commence nailing their coffin together the instant trouble surfaces.
If I were honest, Sheriff Dumont isn’t solely to blame for my father’s resurrection into my life. In my eagerness to seek medical help for Cecil, I didn’t consider the consequences of my actions. Having your fingerprints scanned into a nationwide database isn’t a big deal for most people, but for me, it was always going to be catastrophic.
Although I always assumed my father would be happy to see the backend of me, so why is he here now?
When I ask him that, something on his face changes. It centers around greed, but for once, he’s sniffed out an empty money pot instead of an overflowing one.
“I have n-nothing of value e-except the clothes on my back.” I fan out my arms, showing him they’re not anything to brag about. Cecil is sensible with his money. There are no flashy gimmicks or the latest electronics, just honest work and the assurance of a full stomach every night. Since that wasn’t something I was guaranteed during my childhood, I relish it more than staying up-to-date with fads.
“I am not here for what you can give me but for what I can give you.” My father lies so often, I truly don’t believe he can tell the difference between the truth and a fib anymore. “With Roberto dead…” I choke back a sob at how nonchalantly he announces that my older brother has passed. There’s no remorse in his tone, no sadness. It is as if he truly doesn’t give a fuck, and that’s proven without uncertainty when he adds, “You’re now second-in-charge of an entity worth millions of dollars, if not soon to be billions.”
“I don’t want your money. It’s filthy. It’s blood money. I don’t want anything to d-do with it—”
Cecil smacks me up the back of the head to teach me discipline and respect. My father does it to maim because not once does he do it to my deaf ear. He forever aims for my good ear. “Another word from your mouth, and I’ll burn this entire fucking town to the ground. This is your birthright, your lineage, and you willnotdisrespect the Petretti name.” He leans in real close to ensure my deep breaths won’t have me missing what he says next, “But if you do, I’ll be sure to pay Cecil a visit on my way out.” He strays his eyes from my flaring nostrils to Sheriff Dumont. “Which hospital did you say he was at again?”
“Saint F—”
“Fine. Let’s go. L-Let’s leave now.”
I direct my father to the door like my heart isn’t racing a million miles an hour. I have no intention of becoming his lackey like Dimitri, but I need to get him as far away from Cecil and Jae as possible before he learns the reason wannabee gangsters are sniffing around Cecil’s turf, and that the witness he wanted dead is stronger than he could have ever predicted.
Once that is achieved, I’ll work out a way to keep them safe. I’ll even go as far as using the notoriety that comes from being raised by a madman if I must.
