Page 15 of Knox Unleashed
They all hate Sheriff Caldwell just as much as I do.
They’re gonna want to jump to, admittedly, logical conclusions.
“Do youknowwhere Jackal is, Maren?” I ask.
“Maren?” We both turn to the voice and see Sheriff Caldwell striding down the dock towards us. His big shoulders are pulled back, his chest puffed out, and his right hand lingers on the handle of his service weapon. His eyes are on me and stay there until he reaches us. “Didn’t realize this was a clubhouse annex.”
I roll my eyes. “Fuck you, Caldwell.”
He slows, just out of reach. “Then, if this isn’t the clubhouse, you must be here to make a purchase. Buying bait?”
His gaze drops to my empty hands, and the air tightens. It’s too thick with years and blood and asphalt and sirens. “Wrapwhatever this is up, Maren. I need to talk to you.” Caldwell spins on his heel and heads back to the boathouse.
Maren huffs. “I’m not a dog you can command to follow,” she says after him with frustration.
He doesn’t even stop walking. “Then stop acting like a club bitch.” The words are tossed over his shoulder.
It’s the first time I’ve been close enough to see how they interact without other people around, and it’s like someone just threw a hammer through a pane of glass. It seems as though her father likes her about as much as he likes me. And that…changes things.
I take a step in his direction, and Maren throws out her hand to stop me. “Don’t.” There’s a long sigh. “You’ll just make it worse.”
She unties the boat, then hops into it. “Jackal loved one of the boats in the harbor, always used to say he’d buy it if it went up for sale. Now that it is, I wanted to let him know. When he and Shade come to visit, they stay at one of the places Tony Lewis rents to tourists, so I asked Tony if he had a phone number for Jackal when he came into the store one time. He said he didn’t save Jackal’s new number but did have Jackal’s address after the visit because he left something behind that Tony needed to mail. I sent him a note about the boat. That’s it. That’s the only conversation I ever had about it.”
Then, she starts the boat and steers it into the boathouse.
For a moment, I stand on the dock and think about what she just told me. It means, whoever was in her shop at the time might have overheard.
6
MAREN
If my father were to play any character on a TV show, he’d be the mean prison guard. He’s tough, with square shoulders that almost got him a scholarship to college to play football, or so he says. He’s got shrewd eyes, narrow lips, and limited patience or tolerance.
He likes rules. Order. And punishing those who break either.
His beige uniform fits his build snugly, because even though my father is sixty, he works out like a beast to stay in shape and used to have a poster of Robert De Niro working out in the prison cell in the movieCape Fearhanging in the gym he built in the garage.
And right now, he’s doing that psychological thing he always did when I was a kid: walking around the boathouse quietly, touching things as if he has all the time in the world before he lays into me.
He does it to make me sweat.
And I hate that it works.
I also hate that I sometimes flinch around him, when he occasionally steps close. It’s as though he’s thinking about hitting me, but he hasn’t so far. Every now and then, I can seethe loathing in his eyes, and I wonder what I’ll do the first time he does.
Today, I don’t know whether I’m going to get the full blast of anger, or some “daddy’s disappointed in you” lecture.
Either way, I’m glad Knox has left and I’m alone. Disliking me might be the only thing Knox and my father have in common, and I don’t think I could handle so much disdain at once.
And as much as I hate to admit, I’m already embarrassed by what Knox has seen. I know I shouldn’t tolerate it, but I also don’t know what I would do if my father engineered the removal of any of my business licenses.
Finally, my father turns. “Are you planning on associating yourself with the very organizations I battle every day?”
Ah, it’s neither of the above. I’m going to get the grandiose and overly dramatic lecture about his town.
“I was working. He had a question. I answered it.” I begin to situate the rack holding the life vests away from the entrance.
“What was his question?” The clipped sound of my father’s boots on concrete cause my stomach to tighten.
