doubt that. Why?”
“He didn’t come home last night. Did you see him after the shooting at the Palace?” Jefferson asked, feeling sure that he knew the answer. Those two boys had been sneaking out at night since they were nine or ten years old. About the only two people in town that didn’t know it were Jesse’s parents.
“What shooting?” Murdock asked in a tone that demanded an immediate answer.
“I’ll explain in a minute, Murdock,” Jefferson said in a commanding voice that let everyone know that this was serious, and he was in charge.
Jesse was a little uncomfortable with his parents there, but Jefferson was not joking around. He just used his serious “Police Chief” voice and Jesse had no choice. “He came by here at about midnight. We slipped out like we did when we were kids and drove over to the railroad bridge.”
“In your car or his?”
“Now, Chief, I’m starting to think that I need to know what this is about,” Murdock demanded, beginning to feel that something serious was happening.
Jefferson never took his eyes off Jesse. “In a minute, Murdock.”
“His car, Chief.”
“And then what?”
“Chief?” Murdock began.
“I said that I’ll explain in a minute, Murdock,” Chief Jefferson said with a lot more authority than he realized he could muster.
Murdock suddenly stood silent; no one had spoken to him like that since he was a child.
“He dropped me off over on Main, and I walked back here. We always did it that way so,” Jesse paused and looked at his parents, “so mom and dad wouldn’t hear his car.”
Jefferson was well aware that the two boys did that. Mrs. Cunningham had called him a dozen times after midnight over the years because of Cliff’s noisy Ford. Before the coupe the two used to drive around in Nickel Washington’s old Model-T pickup, which was even nosier than the coupe.
Jefferson turned to Murdock. The man’s face showed that he was angry, but for the first time since Jefferson had become chief, Murdock Rose looked as if he respected the badge.
“Cliff didn’t come home last night, and this morning we found his coupe crashed into Washington’s Feed Store,” Jefferson said, feeling a little empowered.
“Where’s Cliff? Is he okay?” Jesse asked, clearly worried about his friend.
“We don’t know. He wasn’t there.”
Outside, Shorty Newman pulled up to a stop in his black Dodge pickup behind the police prowler. Jefferson glanced out the screen door with some curiosity but turned his attention back to Jesse.
“What time did you get home?
“It was a little after one-thirty,” Murdock replied.
Jesse froze as he looked at his father.
Garvis looked at her husband, “You knew he was out?”
Murdock looked at Jesse, “I always hear you coming and going, son.”
As Shorty stepped up to the porch, Jesse felt a little cold chill, realizing that every time he had climbed out the window his father knew full well what he was doing.
“Chief, I need to talk to you,” Shorty said from outside.
“I’ll be out in a moment, Shorty.”
“I think you need to come right now, Jefferson,” Shorty replied with a shake in his voice.
Jefferson looked out at Shorty who was covered in mud from the knees down. “Good lord, Shorty, what did you get into?”
“You’ve got to come, Jefferson. Quick.”
Jefferson looked at Jesse and his parents, “It looks like they’ve found something. Jesse. I’ll call you when we find Cliff.”
“I’m coming,” Jesse said as he headed to the door.
“No.” Jefferson ordered just as he stepped out, stopping Jesse in his tracks. “I’ll call you.”
“Wait. What’s this about a shooting?” Murdock demanded as his patience ran out with Chief Thomas Jefferson Hightower.
Jefferson paused in the doorway, “Irwin Stoker came into the Palace last night with a shotgun and tried to shoot Cliff. He thinks Cliff got his daughter pregnant. Jesse here stopped him. He saved Cliff’s life.”
Murdock
“He didn’t come home last night. Did you see him after the shooting at the Palace?” Jefferson asked, feeling sure that he knew the answer. Those two boys had been sneaking out at night since they were nine or ten years old. About the only two people in town that didn’t know it were Jesse’s parents.
“What shooting?” Murdock asked in a tone that demanded an immediate answer.
“I’ll explain in a minute, Murdock,” Jefferson said in a commanding voice that let everyone know that this was serious, and he was in charge.
Jesse was a little uncomfortable with his parents there, but Jefferson was not joking around. He just used his serious “Police Chief” voice and Jesse had no choice. “He came by here at about midnight. We slipped out like we did when we were kids and drove over to the railroad bridge.”
“In your car or his?”
“Now, Chief, I’m starting to think that I need to know what this is about,” Murdock demanded, beginning to feel that something serious was happening.
Jefferson never took his eyes off Jesse. “In a minute, Murdock.”
“His car, Chief.”
“And then what?”
“Chief?” Murdock began.
“I said that I’ll explain in a minute, Murdock,” Chief Jefferson said with a lot more authority than he realized he could muster.
Murdock suddenly stood silent; no one had spoken to him like that since he was a child.
“He dropped me off over on Main, and I walked back here. We always did it that way so,” Jesse paused and looked at his parents, “so mom and dad wouldn’t hear his car.”
Jefferson was well aware that the two boys did that. Mrs. Cunningham had called him a dozen times after midnight over the years because of Cliff’s noisy Ford. Before the coupe the two used to drive around in Nickel Washington’s old Model-T pickup, which was even nosier than the coupe.
Jefferson turned to Murdock. The man’s face showed that he was angry, but for the first time since Jefferson had become chief, Murdock Rose looked as if he respected the badge.
“Cliff didn’t come home last night, and this morning we found his coupe crashed into Washington’s Feed Store,” Jefferson said, feeling a little empowered.
“Where’s Cliff? Is he okay?” Jesse asked, clearly worried about his friend.
“We don’t know. He wasn’t there.”
Outside, Shorty Newman pulled up to a stop in his black Dodge pickup behind the police prowler. Jefferson glanced out the screen door with some curiosity but turned his attention back to Jesse.
“What time did you get home?
“It was a little after one-thirty,” Murdock replied.
Jesse froze as he looked at his father.
Garvis looked at her husband, “You knew he was out?”
Murdock looked at Jesse, “I always hear you coming and going, son.”
As Shorty stepped up to the porch, Jesse felt a little cold chill, realizing that every time he had climbed out the window his father knew full well what he was doing.
“Chief, I need to talk to you,” Shorty said from outside.
“I’ll be out in a moment, Shorty.”
“I think you need to come right now, Jefferson,” Shorty replied with a shake in his voice.
Jefferson looked out at Shorty who was covered in mud from the knees down. “Good lord, Shorty, what did you get into?”
“You’ve got to come, Jefferson. Quick.”
Jefferson looked at Jesse and his parents, “It looks like they’ve found something. Jesse. I’ll call you when we find Cliff.”
“I’m coming,” Jesse said as he headed to the door.
“No.” Jefferson ordered just as he stepped out, stopping Jesse in his tracks. “I’ll call you.”
“Wait. What’s this about a shooting?” Murdock demanded as his patience ran out with Chief Thomas Jefferson Hightower.
Jefferson paused in the doorway, “Irwin Stoker came into the Palace last night with a shotgun and tried to shoot Cliff. He thinks Cliff got his daughter pregnant. Jesse here stopped him. He saved Cliff’s life.”
Murdock
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