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“I’m leaving,” Enzo says to me, reaching a hand out my way. It looks like he’s about to rip the necklace from my chest. Or that he’s about to tear my blouse open and expose my pink pebbling buds to his gaze.
At the last moment, his hand swerves and he snatches a file from the desk next to me. As he walks off with it under his arm, a piece of paper drifts out of it, floating slowly to the floor. I look at him, and then back at Walter. No one saw that but me.
Leaning down, I grab the paper and shove it in my pocket just in time for Enzo to stop in the doorway to the station. He looks back at me, his face betraying the battle that seems to be raging inside him.
“Shame I can’t stay,” he calls across to me. “Or I’d make you pay a hell of a price for cussing like you did.”
Then he’s gone, the door swinging shut after him.
The sheriff seems as relieved to see him go as me. He sighs heavily as I get up and walk over to him. “What happened?” I ask.
“Nothing,” he replies. “I’m just fine.” He looks up at me, his eyes widening. “That your necklace?” he asks, his voice strange, his nosebleed suddenly forgotten.
“Andrew gave it to me on our date.” I touch it with my fingers. “Why?”
For a moment he looks like a volcano about to explode. Then he gets a hold of himself. “No reason,” he says, shaking his head. “Just wondered. That’s all.” He wipes his nose, wincing as a flesh gob of blood comes out. “Fuck, that’s sore.”
“Enzo did that to you, didn’t he? Why would he do that.”
“I tripped and fell, Chloe.”
“Why are you covering for him?”
“I’m clumsy. You should go home. I’m done talking to you.”
“But I wanted to ask you about my file. I was wondering…”
His whole face changes, his eyes flashing a fit of anger I’ve never seen in him before. “There is no fucking file,” he says, grabbing me by the shoulders and pushing me toward the door. “Forget about the fucking file. It’s gone and so are you. So get the fuck out of here and do not come back or I’ll arrest you.”
“For what?”
“I’ll think of something, believe me. Out!” He pushes me through the door, slamming it shut while I fight not to trip down the steps outside.
I stand outside the door for a moment while I get my balance back, wondering what the hell just happened.
I decide against going in there again. I get the feeling he wasn’t kidding about arresting me.
Why would Enzo beat up the sheriff? Why wouldn’t he get arrested for it?
Nothing about this makes any sense but I know one thing. It can’t be a good sign that the sheriff can get the shit kicked out of him and there are zero consequences for the man who did it.
I think about all this as I walk home in a daze.
I’m so busy thinking, that I don’t notice much about the man waiting for me on the corner of Elm and Maple. I don’t see much beyond a pair of blue coveralls and a baseball cap low over his head, shielding his face from me.
He’s got a cellphone to his ear and is talking low into it like he doesn’t want to be overheard.
It’s as I’m turning the corner that he reaches out and grabs hold of me, dragging me down the alleyway behind Eddie’s Book Store. He’s got one hand around my throat, the other one on my waist, yanking me off my feet before I can fight back.
It happens so fast, that I’m not even sure what’s going on until I’m already off the street. I twist in the grip of the hands holding onto me. “Let go of me,” I want to say but my mouth can’t seem to find the words.
I claw at him with my nails, my breath ragged as I dig into the flesh of his arm.
His grip loosens but before I can work my way free, he’s pulled out a gun and he’s pointing it at me. My blood turns to ice in my veins as I stare down the barrel. I get an image in my mind that I didn’t know was there.
I’m in the woods, my parents are yelling my name. Two shots and then silence. Someone is standing in front of me, someone tall. I can’t see their face. I can only see the gun barrel just like this one that’s moving toward me too fast.
“Hand it over,” the guy says, his voice a snarl. I still can’t see his eyes. Just his mouth and chin. Teeth crooked, skin pitted, and marked with acne. “Hurry up, bitch.”
