blotches showed, grabbed her book bag, and headed downstairs. She had a long day ahead of her and all she could think about as she walked down the stairs was how soon she could get back to sleep.
TWENTY-THREE
Max Dahl brought a six pack of Heineken with him. He and Jack sat out on the back porch enjoying the rare warm afternoon. Usually this time of year the temperature was down in the forties during the day, so sixty degrees in the early evening was something to celebrate.
Jack knew why Max was there. Prescott City was a small town and he was sure rumors were flying. At least Max was up front about it. “Man, you screwed up big time,” was his greeting when he first pulled in the driveway. Now that Jack had given him the whole story, Max leaned back in the teak patio chair and shook his head.
“Jack,” he finally said, reaching for another beer, “that is one hell of a story.” He popped the top and drained half the bottle. “You are either into some strange stuff or…”
“Or what?”
“Or you are completely full of shit.”
“C’mon! I can understand that pompous ass Janney giving me grief, but you?”
“Hey, I didn’t say I don’t believe you. It’s just that it’s, I don’t know, so weird.”
Jack rolled his eyes. “Oh, much better. Jesus, why would I make something like this up?”
“See, that’s the thing. I don’t think you would. I know you weren’t drunk since I was with you. I figure you have insurance. Even if you didn’t, you have more money than God, so you wouldn’t fake it to get out of paying the guy’s medical bill.”
“O.K., so what’s left?”
“I’m your friend so I can tell you this.” Max leaned over and lowered his voice to a whisper. “Know what I think? Under this good guy exterior lurks a psychopath hell bent on ridding the world of cheap domestic cars.”
Jack stood up. “Come on, this is serious.”
The glass slider opened and Sarah walked out carrying construction paper and a box of crayons. She walked over to her dad and tugged on the bottom of his sweater. “Will you color with me?”
Jack reached down and rubbed the top of her head. “In a little bit, Bud. Why don’t you sit at the table and start?” he said, nodding toward the patio table. Sarah stuck out her bottom lip and stared up at him. Jack laughed, “Go on, I’ll be over in a little bit. We’ll work on your numbers.”
Sarah smiled. She looked over at Max and piped, “Hi Uncle Max,” and then headed off to the patio table.
“Smart like her mom, huh?” Max said. “Jesse’s the same age as Sarah and we’re nowhere close to worrying about numbers yet.”
“Don’t let her enthusiasm fool you. You’d be hard pressed to understand anything she writes down. A bunch of well meaning squiggly lines. She’ll get it eventually though. She just needs time.” No sooner were the words out then he regretted them. Max winced, but didn’t say anything. A black shadow drifted over the two men even though the sun still shone in the cloudless sky.
“Max…I’m sorry…I…”
Max held up his hand, “Don’t worry about it. I find myself saying stuff like that all the time.”
She just needs time . Jesse Dahl didn’t have time. Sarah would go to school, grow older, have a life. Jesse was going to die. Realizing that Max’s little girl would never learn to write made it all the more real.
Max spoke first. “Enough of that. Let’s talk about how you’re a big screw-up.”
Jack accepted the unspoken ground rule. No talk of disease today. “So, do you think I have anything worry about from Janney?”
Max thought it over. “Folks around here trust Janney. Shit, he’s been sheriff around here for almost twenty years. They think he’s an egotistical prick, but they trust him. But you have me as your alibi that you were drinking like a little girl before you left Piper’s. The only risk is that someone at Piper’s wasn’t paying attention and decides they saw you
TWENTY-THREE
Max Dahl brought a six pack of Heineken with him. He and Jack sat out on the back porch enjoying the rare warm afternoon. Usually this time of year the temperature was down in the forties during the day, so sixty degrees in the early evening was something to celebrate.
Jack knew why Max was there. Prescott City was a small town and he was sure rumors were flying. At least Max was up front about it. “Man, you screwed up big time,” was his greeting when he first pulled in the driveway. Now that Jack had given him the whole story, Max leaned back in the teak patio chair and shook his head.
“Jack,” he finally said, reaching for another beer, “that is one hell of a story.” He popped the top and drained half the bottle. “You are either into some strange stuff or…”
“Or what?”
“Or you are completely full of shit.”
“C’mon! I can understand that pompous ass Janney giving me grief, but you?”
“Hey, I didn’t say I don’t believe you. It’s just that it’s, I don’t know, so weird.”
Jack rolled his eyes. “Oh, much better. Jesus, why would I make something like this up?”
“See, that’s the thing. I don’t think you would. I know you weren’t drunk since I was with you. I figure you have insurance. Even if you didn’t, you have more money than God, so you wouldn’t fake it to get out of paying the guy’s medical bill.”
“O.K., so what’s left?”
“I’m your friend so I can tell you this.” Max leaned over and lowered his voice to a whisper. “Know what I think? Under this good guy exterior lurks a psychopath hell bent on ridding the world of cheap domestic cars.”
Jack stood up. “Come on, this is serious.”
The glass slider opened and Sarah walked out carrying construction paper and a box of crayons. She walked over to her dad and tugged on the bottom of his sweater. “Will you color with me?”
Jack reached down and rubbed the top of her head. “In a little bit, Bud. Why don’t you sit at the table and start?” he said, nodding toward the patio table. Sarah stuck out her bottom lip and stared up at him. Jack laughed, “Go on, I’ll be over in a little bit. We’ll work on your numbers.”
Sarah smiled. She looked over at Max and piped, “Hi Uncle Max,” and then headed off to the patio table.
“Smart like her mom, huh?” Max said. “Jesse’s the same age as Sarah and we’re nowhere close to worrying about numbers yet.”
“Don’t let her enthusiasm fool you. You’d be hard pressed to understand anything she writes down. A bunch of well meaning squiggly lines. She’ll get it eventually though. She just needs time.” No sooner were the words out then he regretted them. Max winced, but didn’t say anything. A black shadow drifted over the two men even though the sun still shone in the cloudless sky.
“Max…I’m sorry…I…”
Max held up his hand, “Don’t worry about it. I find myself saying stuff like that all the time.”
She just needs time . Jesse Dahl didn’t have time. Sarah would go to school, grow older, have a life. Jesse was going to die. Realizing that Max’s little girl would never learn to write made it all the more real.
Max spoke first. “Enough of that. Let’s talk about how you’re a big screw-up.”
Jack accepted the unspoken ground rule. No talk of disease today. “So, do you think I have anything worry about from Janney?”
Max thought it over. “Folks around here trust Janney. Shit, he’s been sheriff around here for almost twenty years. They think he’s an egotistical prick, but they trust him. But you have me as your alibi that you were drinking like a little girl before you left Piper’s. The only risk is that someone at Piper’s wasn’t paying attention and decides they saw you
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