Wednesday or they can go six hours on Saturday. Believe it or not, some of them opt to put everything on one day – even if it ruins their weekend – because it’s easier.”
“That’s the choice I would make,” I said. “Other than that, how is it going?”
“It’s going pretty well,” Jim answered. “How are things with you? I see you around quite a bit, although I don’t bother you because that FBI guy is usually with you.”
“Landon,” I said. “Yeah, he’s here almost every weekend.”
“You guys seem close.”
“We are,” I said, briefly wondering whether Jim was trying to feel me out for a specific reason. “How about you? Dating anyone?”
“Not really,” Jim replied. “Hemlock Cove’s dating pool is fairly limited – especially when all the good ones are taken by FBI studs.”
My cheeks burned and I decided to change the subject. “Did you know Nathaniel Jamison very well?”
Jim shrugged off the conversational shift. “Fairly well,” he said. “He graduated two years ago. He was smart, but didn’t apply himself. He was much more interested in sports than anything else. Why do you ask?”
I ignored the question. “Was he good in sports?”
“He was good by Hemlock Cove’s standards,” Jim replied. “He was the starting quarterback. He pitched for the baseball team. He was a fairly decent wrestler, too. I think Nathaniel’s problem was that he thought being good by Hemlock Cove’s athletic standards meant he was good by other people’s standards, too.”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, I heard he tried out for the football team at Central Michigan University – that’s where he goes to school now – but he didn’t even make it off of the practice field the first day,” Jim answered. “Nathaniel was an alpha jock. He got his self-worth from being an athlete. I think that’s how he got girls, too. I don’t think the change in his social status was something he expected.”
“You’re saying he was popular with the girls here because he was an athlete, but he was just another kid at Central,” I said. “Have you heard anything about him recently?”
“He’s been hanging around playing basketball,” Jim said. “I think he’s been working some of the farms for money, too. That’s what I heard anyway. Why are you asking?”
I bit my lip. “I can’t really say,” I said. “Not yet, at least.”
“Does this have something to do with your FBI boyfriend?”
“He has a name,” I replied, smiling. “I really can’t say yet. Thanks for the information, though.”
After chatting with Jim a few more minutes I left him to return to his class and moved toward the boys on the court. Dakota was the first to acknowledge my presence.
“Hello, Ms. Winchester.”
He always was a smarmy little thing. “Hi, Dakota.” I glanced at the rest of the boys. “How are you guys doing today?”
“We didn’t do anything,” one of the younger boys said. Upon closer inspection, I recognized his freckles. He was Chuck Johnson’s son.
“You’re Charlie Junior, aren’t you?”
Charlie widened his eyes and nodded. “You’re not here because Ms. Tillie sent you, are you?”
“Why would Aunt Tillie send me?”
“She hates all the boys in town … except for me,” Dakota said, puffing out his chest. “She loves me.”
“Trust me. She doesn’t love you,” I countered. “If she’s nice to you, it’s because you’re bribing her or she wants something from you.”
Dakota made a face. “You don’t know. Ms. Tillie could like me.”
It was doubtful, but stranger things had happened. “I need to ask you guys a few questions,” I said. “What can you tell me about what goes on at Hollow Creek these days?”
Dakota exchanged a look with one of the blond boys to my right. “Why do you want to know?”
“Why don’t you want to tell me?” I challenged.
“Maybe we don’t trust you,” the blond boy said. “You do date that FBI guy.”
“Ms.
“That’s the choice I would make,” I said. “Other than that, how is it going?”
“It’s going pretty well,” Jim answered. “How are things with you? I see you around quite a bit, although I don’t bother you because that FBI guy is usually with you.”
“Landon,” I said. “Yeah, he’s here almost every weekend.”
“You guys seem close.”
“We are,” I said, briefly wondering whether Jim was trying to feel me out for a specific reason. “How about you? Dating anyone?”
“Not really,” Jim replied. “Hemlock Cove’s dating pool is fairly limited – especially when all the good ones are taken by FBI studs.”
My cheeks burned and I decided to change the subject. “Did you know Nathaniel Jamison very well?”
Jim shrugged off the conversational shift. “Fairly well,” he said. “He graduated two years ago. He was smart, but didn’t apply himself. He was much more interested in sports than anything else. Why do you ask?”
I ignored the question. “Was he good in sports?”
“He was good by Hemlock Cove’s standards,” Jim replied. “He was the starting quarterback. He pitched for the baseball team. He was a fairly decent wrestler, too. I think Nathaniel’s problem was that he thought being good by Hemlock Cove’s athletic standards meant he was good by other people’s standards, too.”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, I heard he tried out for the football team at Central Michigan University – that’s where he goes to school now – but he didn’t even make it off of the practice field the first day,” Jim answered. “Nathaniel was an alpha jock. He got his self-worth from being an athlete. I think that’s how he got girls, too. I don’t think the change in his social status was something he expected.”
“You’re saying he was popular with the girls here because he was an athlete, but he was just another kid at Central,” I said. “Have you heard anything about him recently?”
“He’s been hanging around playing basketball,” Jim said. “I think he’s been working some of the farms for money, too. That’s what I heard anyway. Why are you asking?”
I bit my lip. “I can’t really say,” I said. “Not yet, at least.”
“Does this have something to do with your FBI boyfriend?”
“He has a name,” I replied, smiling. “I really can’t say yet. Thanks for the information, though.”
After chatting with Jim a few more minutes I left him to return to his class and moved toward the boys on the court. Dakota was the first to acknowledge my presence.
“Hello, Ms. Winchester.”
He always was a smarmy little thing. “Hi, Dakota.” I glanced at the rest of the boys. “How are you guys doing today?”
“We didn’t do anything,” one of the younger boys said. Upon closer inspection, I recognized his freckles. He was Chuck Johnson’s son.
“You’re Charlie Junior, aren’t you?”
Charlie widened his eyes and nodded. “You’re not here because Ms. Tillie sent you, are you?”
“Why would Aunt Tillie send me?”
“She hates all the boys in town … except for me,” Dakota said, puffing out his chest. “She loves me.”
“Trust me. She doesn’t love you,” I countered. “If she’s nice to you, it’s because you’re bribing her or she wants something from you.”
Dakota made a face. “You don’t know. Ms. Tillie could like me.”
It was doubtful, but stranger things had happened. “I need to ask you guys a few questions,” I said. “What can you tell me about what goes on at Hollow Creek these days?”
Dakota exchanged a look with one of the blond boys to my right. “Why do you want to know?”
“Why don’t you want to tell me?” I challenged.
“Maybe we don’t trust you,” the blond boy said. “You do date that FBI guy.”
“Ms.
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