Down River by John Hart Page B

she’s been here—at least not to us—but she talked to Dolf. He told the cops what she said.”
    “Which was what?”
    “She’s out of it, confused maybe, and she doesn’t remember much, but she told Dolf the last thing she does remember is that you kissed her, then she told you that she hates you, and then she ran away from you.”
    His words crashed down on me.
    “The cops say that she was attacked maybe a half mile from the dock.” I saw it all on his face. Half a mile. An easy run.
    It was happening again.
    “They think that I had something to do with it?”
    Jamie looked like he’d rather be anywhere but here. He seemed to twist inside his own body. “It’s pretty bad, isn’t it, bro? Nobody has forgotten why you left.”
    “I would never hurt Grace.”
    “I’m just saying—”
    “I know what you’re saying, damn it. What’s Dad saying?”
    “Not a word, man. He’s gone into some kind of weird shutdown. I’ve never seen anything like it. And Dolf—Jesus—he looks like somebody hit him with a brick. I don’t know. It’s ugly.” He paused. We both knew where this would go. “I’ve been out here for an hour. I just thought you should know… before you walk in there.”
    “Thanks, Jamie. I mean it. You didn’t have to.”
    “We’re brothers, man.”
    “Are the police still here?”
    He shook his head. “They hung out for a long time, but it’s like I said, Grace isn’t really talking. I think they’re out at the farm, Robin and some guy named Grantham. He works for the sheriff. He’s the one asking all the questions.”
    “The sheriff,” I said, feeling the emotion move into my face: the dislike, the memories. It was the Rowan County sheriff who’d filed the murder charge against me.
    Jamie nodded. “Same one.”
    “Wait a minute. Why is Robin involved in this? She works for the city.”
    “I think she does all the sex cases. Some kind of partnership with the sheriff’s office when it’s out of her normal jurisdiction. She’s always in the paper. That Grantham, though, don’t let him fool you. He’s only been around for a few years, but he’s sharp.”
    “Robin questioned me.” I still could not believe it.
    “She had to, man. You know what it took for her to stand by you when everyone and his brother wanted you strung up. She almost got fired for it.” Jamie shoved his hands deeper into his pockets. “You need me to go in with you?”
    “You offering?”
    He didn’t answer, just looked embarrassed. “No problem,” I said, and turned away.
    “Hey,” Jamie said. I stopped. “What I said before, about being glad to have a front-row seat… I didn’t mean it. Not like this.”
    “It’s cool, Jamie. No sweat.”
    I went in through the double doors. Lights hummed. People looked up and then ignored me. I rounded a corner and saw my father first. He sat like a broken man. His head hung loosely and his arms wrapped around his shoulders as if they had too many joints. Dolf sat beside him, very erect, and stared at the wall in utter stillness. The skin beneath his eyes had pulled away in pale, pink crescents, and he, too, looked reduced. He saw me first, and twitched as if caught doing something he should not.
    I stepped farther into the waiting area they occupied. “Dolf.” I paused. “Dad.”
    Dolf pushed himself to his feet and rubbed his hands on his thighs. My father looked up, and I saw that his face looked shattered, too. He held my eyes and straightened his back as if will alone could reconstitute a broken frame. I thought of what Robin had said, that my father wept when he heard that I’d come back. I saw nothing like that now. His fists were white and hard. Cords stretched the skin of his neck.
    “What do you know about this, Adam?”
    I’d hoped that this would not happen, that Jamie had been wrong. “What do you mean?”
    “Don’t be smart with me, son. What do you know about this?” He raised his voice. “About Grace, goddamn it.”
    For an