Page 16 of Crossing the Line

“You’re a good boy, Oakland. You’ve a good heart, I know it. You’ll be a good man, just like your father, won’t you?”

“I will.” He said it like he was outraged by the suggestion that I’d even doubted it.

I sighed, content with the young man we had raised him to be. I glanced over his head as the police finally managed to wrestle Darla’s attacker into the back of their patrol car.

“I know you will, baby.” I swept my hand through his hair and noticed the ambulance had been waiting for the police to apprehend before they entered the parking lot.

“Hey, uh…” Cole suddenly appeared and began to awkwardly stammer.

His gaze cut back toward the ambulance before it met mine, “You want to get the boy out of here?”

“Mhmm,” I instantly agreed, “Yes, I think that’s enough for one Sunday morning.”

Cole twitched one side of his mouth and lowered his gaze before gesturing for us to follow him.

“We can cut around the garbage cans and clear out through the alley. Won’t have to contend with all that mess,” Cole explained, while taking us past a row of trees with needles. I couldn’t tell the difference between them unless they had pinecones, but I still admired them, ever grateful he hadn’t marched us past the spectacle.

Chapter Five

Let the Haunting Begin

C.C.

I alternated between seething and shaking. Our laws demanded I stand with my brothers, but how the hell was a man supposed to stand beside someone who’d chosen to beat the hell out of their wife in the parking lot of a church?

I had no doubt that Mark would hear of my indifference to Chef’s arrest.

Let him, I thought, as I pulled in front of Brenna’s home.

“Thank you for the ride, Mr. Henshaw,” Oakland politely chirped, before throwing the door open and scrambling toward the house.

The kid had his tie off before he even climbed the first step. I laughed, knowing exactly how he felt. I felt awkward as all get out when I had to leave my hat and boots at home on Sundays.

“I appreciate everything.” Brenna began, her voice small, yet stoic. “I wasn’t sure where to turn when all of that– Well, that commotion broke out.”

I shifted my head, dismissively swatting the air between us, “Naw, it’s… it was nothing. Chef is a damn fool, and everybody knows he doesn’t deserve Darla, but hell… I never thought he’d do that. Well, not there…”

I hadn’t meant to ramble on; it was just my habit to speak the thoughts as soon as they drifted across my tattered mind. Most people just tuned out, but not Brenna. I paused, realizing that she was staring at me in a very different light.

“Wha–?”

“‘Chef?’” The name tumbled off her lip the same way my mother used to hurl the word whiskey around. “Is… Chef someone you associate with?”

I could feel the disdain growing around us. The car suddenly became so stuffy my mouth went dry. There was a mug of coffee between us that I’d brought this morning, but it wasn’t coffee my body suddenly craved.

“Everybody knows Chef. It’s a small town.” I managed, without admitting to a thing, or actually trudging into dishonesty.

Her stormy, blue eyes softened a little, and the tension in her jaw relaxed.

“His mother really named him Chef?”

I swallowed a snort and cleared my throat. “No, Ma’am. The Sheriff did.”

Her midnight-blue jewels swung back toward me with a mixture of shock and curiosity. She was too much of a lady to ask, but I could tell she was dying to know.

“Chef was, uh— well he was… I guess he incorrectly mixed his ingredients while trying to cook some dope. Stuff exploded on him. Took out his mother’s shed that he’d been using as a kitchen, and the laundry room of her neighbor’s house.”

“Good Lord,” Brenna exclaimed, her face pinching up a bit.