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“Luke, that’s not why I’m crying,” she whispered, but her father’s voice cut between them, jostling her out of whatever memory she was lost in.
“You two coming?” Jake yelled.
Luke sidestepped Holly, unable to look at the disappointment and grief on her face; the same expression he’d seen that night at the hospital. The same expression that had haunted him every day since. This time, when she called his name, he didn’t acknowledge her.
He kept walking.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
“SHERIFF SAXON?” THE MAN heading toward him reminded Luke of an aged-out teen heartthrob. A tad on the burly side, with close-cropped hair and a neatly trimmed beard, he had a bit of a limp and took careful steps toward the front of the police station. “Matt Knight.” He extended his hand. “You left a message on my voice mail about my missing forty-five?”
“Good to meet you.” Luke shook his offered hand. “I would have been happy to come to you.”
“Nah.” Luke caught the hint of a Louisiana accent as he led him inside. “I needed an excuse to get out of the house. I would have been by sooner, but I’ve been visiting family down south. As soon as I heard your message I headed over. Glad my gun finally turned up.”
Luke lifted the pass-through and gestured to Knight to follow. Knight scanned the room and the two deputies with a graze of his eyes Luke recognized all too well. Even if Luke didn’t know Matt Knight was ex-military, he’d have pegged him as a vet of some sort. He’d seen enough of them come through the force in Chicago.
Cash left his chosen backup position at Ozzy’s desk to pad in behind them, giving Luke one of his “I didn’t think you were coming back” expressions.
“Nice pooch,” Knight said. Cash’s ears perked up, no doubt understanding a compliment when he heard one, and the dog quirked his head as if waiting for more.
“When did your tour end?” Luke closed the door to his office. He motioned for Knight to take a seat. Cash followed, plopping down between them.
“Am I that obvious or are you that good?” Knight grinned. “Army. Ten years, two tours in Iraq.” He sat and then patted his leg. Metal clinked. “IED took out the truck I was riding in. Sent me stateside minus a few parts.”
“Sorry to hear that.” Luke sat behind his desk.
Knight shrugged, but there was no hiding the telltale after-war haunt Luke had seen in so many soldiers. “I was lucky. A lot of my buddies came back worse off—some didn’t come back at all. At least now people hear me coming.” Knight flexed his knee and Luke heard a gentle squeak. “What about you? Air force?” Knight held up a hand when Luke started to answer. “Nah. You look like a navy guy to me. Well, I won’t hold it against you.” Knight stretched out his legs and folded his hands on his stomach. “How long were you in?”
“I did six years, then followed up with the bomb squad in Chicago for a while.” When was his stomach going to stop lurching whenever he thought about Chicago?
“So about my gun.” Knight scrubbed a hand across his beard. “My former CO would kick my hide into the next century for not securing it better. I guess locked in a drawer in the garage wasn’t the best place.”
“Lockbox in your closet would be better,” Luke said. “Any idea when it was taken?”
“Could have been anytime in the past year.” Knight shifted and dug out his wallet, then handed over a worn piece of paper. “Brought it back with me, but haven’t had the need for it since. Truth be told, didn’t really want to see it again. I only kept it because it was kind of my good-luck piece over there. You know?” His eyes took on that heavy, shadowed look.
“I know.” Luke had his own good-luck piece, but it was more a reminder of survival than something that went bang. “Glad I can return it to you.” Luke stood and unlocked the file cabinet behind him.
“Man, you are good,” Knight said as Luke set the gun on his desk. “Any idea who stole it?”
Luke added the clip and extra bullet he’d emptied from the gun when he’d stashed it. “I found it in a backpack belonging to Kyle Winters. He’d left it behind when he’d been squatting at the Flutterby.”
“Abby’s place?” Knight’s face lost some color. “Oh, man, no one was hurt, were they?”
“No, they’re fine. I figure the kid was carrying it for protection. Whether he’s the one who stole it or not, I’ll ask him when we find him.”
“Winters.” Knight chewed the inside of his cheek. “I know that name. Kid’s father wouldn’t be a bleached-blond action-movie-reject kinda guy, would he? Hangs out at the Dirty Rose outside town?”
Luke nodded. “He’s currently in county jail waiting on his prelim hearing for assault.”
“Nasty piece of work there. I’m guessing the apple didn’t fall far from the tree?”
“I’d love to be able to tell you,” Luke admitted. “Kyle’s got a record, not too bad, but it’s getting there. When I arrested his father, the kid clocked me before I could even cuff dear old dad.” The slice in his head throbbed as if waiting to be mentioned.
“Probably putting one in the bank for when his old man gets home.” Knight cringed.
Luke quirked his head, narrowed his eyes.
“It’s what I would have done,” Knight explained. “When my father let loose on me, if someone tried to help, it was better to go after that person and make it look as if I was defending him. Good favor for later, if you get my meaning.”
That was exactly the reason Luke hadn’t pursued any charges against Kyle. “Sounds as though your father and mine had a lot in common.”
“Well mine’s fifteen years in the ground. You?”
“Eight.” Not nearly long enough.
“Always told myself I’d drink a fifth and dance on the old man’s grave,” Knight said. “I did the dance. Skipped the Scotch.”
“Yeah, me, too.” Luke would always skip the Scotch. “I’ll go ahead and write up a report on returning the gun to its rightful owner, get this off the books.”
“Sounds good.” He picked up the firearm and ammunition as he got to his feet. “Appreciate the help. Let me know if I can return the favor sometime.”
“Where’re you working?” Luke pushed himself up.
“Odd jobs here and there.” Knight shrugged. “Nothing steady. Why? You lookin’ to hire?” His expression told Luke he was kidding, but Luke wasn’t.
“I’ve been given a discretionary budget. I was thinking about hiring a part-time receptionist, but if you’re looking for extra work, I can do with another deputy. You interested? Provided you pass the background check.”
“I’d pass with flying colors, man.” Knight blinked away his shock. “It’d be great to have a steady job again.” His excitement faded as he glanced down at his leg. “You sure you want me on board?”
“We all have our scars,” Luke said. “They might help make us who we are, but they don’t define us. It’s not as if we have a lot of foot chases in town. Give me your Social and we’ll go from there.”
“Excellent.” Knight grabbed a sticky note and scribbled his name and Social Security number along with his cell number. “Do I get one of those?” He pointed at Cash and the dog’s ears perked.
“Afraid not,” Luke said. “He’s one of a kind.”
* * *
“SHERIFF LUKE, COME HERE!”
Luke lugged yet another load of trash out the back door of the youth center. The cleanup was never ending, but finally, after four days, Tuesday dawned with promise that the final phase—fresh paint on the walls—would be done by the end of the day. Progress.
“What’s up, Simon?” Luke unlocked the padlock on the trash can as Matt hefted his own two trash bags out.
“You said to let you know if I saw him. Kyle Winters.” Simon pointed over the rock wall. “There. Down at the shoreline.”
“Okay.” Luke pushed Simon’s hand down, appreciating the enthusiasm, but they had to work on the boy’s stealth skills. “We talked about this, Simon. I know you and Kyle don’t get along—”
“He hates me. He hates everyone,” Simon added. “He’s a bad guy.”
“Not everyone is bad or good, kid,” Matt said before Luke could find the words. “You never know what’s going on in a person’s life. Sometimes being bad is the only means by which they can get by.”
“Huh?” Simon scrunched his face up. “What does that mean?”
“It means be grateful you don’t have to live Kyle’s life.” Relief from finally locating Kyle nearly brought Luke to his knees. His blood pumped faster as he glanced in Kyle’s direction before securing the trash can. “Kid’s been hiding pretty well up until now.”
