sunglasses.
Aaron, steadied by the sheriff's presence, stopped overreacting and steadied himself against the side of the canoe.Tremblay pulled the sunglasses from his face, turned to stare at Carl for a moment, and then redirected his attention to Aaron.
“There's no sign of blood or any sort of foul play that I can see,” Tremblay finally said, breaking the silence.
“What do you mean? How can that.” Aaron stammered.
Carl cut Aaron off, saying, “Tell us again exactly what you saw. From the beginning.”
Letting out a sigh, Aaron looked down at the ground where Jake's body had bled out. Not a speck of blood. The dirt appeared to be freshly raked under the leaves.
“You were standing in the bushes over there and then you saw…” Carl said, starting Aaron's story for him, while Tremblay stepped closer to the canoe, bending down to examine it.
“No, I was underneath the canoe.”
“Underneath it?”
“Yeah. It was flipped over the other way,” Aaron explained.
Tremblay straightened, meeting Aaron eye to eye. “What did he look like?”
“He had a beard and I… I… it all went by so fast.”
Resting a large hand on Aaron's shoulder, a crooked crevasse formed between Tremblay's nose and chin. After a second, Aaron realized that Tremblay was attempting to smile at him. “It's okay, son, you're not in any trouble here.”
“What about the shooter?” Carl spat, impatiently.
Aaron shook his head slowly. “I didn't get a good look at him.” Tremblay's eyes shifted to Carl and they momentarily exchanged a suspicious glance, which Aaron caught out of the corner of his field of vision. He looked up abruptly, with a flash of anger. “I'm not lying!”
Carl raised his arms defensively, with a sincere smile that Aaron sensed was merely meant to humor him. Just that crazyStevens kid, making up tall tales, is what they must've been thinking. Probably wants to step out of his old man's shadow. Tough on him, too, with all this closing the mill business. Let's nod, make him happy, and go back home for dinner.
Aaron bit his lip, “Maybe Mike and Steve got a better look… Steve!” Suddenly, he charged out of Tremblay and Carl's reach, crossing the campsite at a gallop. The fire pit was on his left, and it was raked as well–empty of any ashes and incriminating evidence. “I'm not lying! Or crazy!” Aaron called over his shoulder as he raced into the woods.
“Hey, kid, come back here!” Carl said, following after Aaron, with Tremblay close behind him.
Aaron found himself running through the very woods he had just fled, only this time in the opposite direction. Potentially towards danger.
twelve
A voice crackled over the radio hanging on Tremblay's belt: “Sheriff Tremblay. Do you read me?”
With a snort, Tremblay stopped in his tracks and removed his radio to answer the call. Ahead of him, Carl and Aaron disappeared on their forage into the forest. “Go ahead.”
“I've got Mister Stevens here and he'd like to speak to you about…”
“Tell him I'm busy right now,” Tremblay said, putting his sunglasses back on, over his slitted eyes.
“I heard that,” Derek Stevens could be heard in the background at the dispatch office.
Tremblay lowered the radio. “Christ.”
Tremblay rubbed his temples with one hand and tried to find his Zen, but it was difficult. Given the history between Derek Stevens and himself, Tremblay found it very difficult to talk to the man.
Back when Tremblay was seeking election for the post of Sheriff, Stevens doubted that Tremblay could do the job. And he wasn't quiet about it. Stevens talked to every high-end official in the town about his doubts, making secretive phone calls that cast doubt on Tremblay's drive and abilities. Or so it has been rumored numerous times to Tremblay by many trusty sources.
Even so, the town prevailed against all of Stevens' claims and elected Tremblay ten years ago. Stevens never backed down nor apologized, and Tremblay never
Aaron, steadied by the sheriff's presence, stopped overreacting and steadied himself against the side of the canoe.Tremblay pulled the sunglasses from his face, turned to stare at Carl for a moment, and then redirected his attention to Aaron.
“There's no sign of blood or any sort of foul play that I can see,” Tremblay finally said, breaking the silence.
“What do you mean? How can that.” Aaron stammered.
Carl cut Aaron off, saying, “Tell us again exactly what you saw. From the beginning.”
Letting out a sigh, Aaron looked down at the ground where Jake's body had bled out. Not a speck of blood. The dirt appeared to be freshly raked under the leaves.
“You were standing in the bushes over there and then you saw…” Carl said, starting Aaron's story for him, while Tremblay stepped closer to the canoe, bending down to examine it.
“No, I was underneath the canoe.”
“Underneath it?”
“Yeah. It was flipped over the other way,” Aaron explained.
Tremblay straightened, meeting Aaron eye to eye. “What did he look like?”
“He had a beard and I… I… it all went by so fast.”
Resting a large hand on Aaron's shoulder, a crooked crevasse formed between Tremblay's nose and chin. After a second, Aaron realized that Tremblay was attempting to smile at him. “It's okay, son, you're not in any trouble here.”
“What about the shooter?” Carl spat, impatiently.
Aaron shook his head slowly. “I didn't get a good look at him.” Tremblay's eyes shifted to Carl and they momentarily exchanged a suspicious glance, which Aaron caught out of the corner of his field of vision. He looked up abruptly, with a flash of anger. “I'm not lying!”
Carl raised his arms defensively, with a sincere smile that Aaron sensed was merely meant to humor him. Just that crazyStevens kid, making up tall tales, is what they must've been thinking. Probably wants to step out of his old man's shadow. Tough on him, too, with all this closing the mill business. Let's nod, make him happy, and go back home for dinner.
Aaron bit his lip, “Maybe Mike and Steve got a better look… Steve!” Suddenly, he charged out of Tremblay and Carl's reach, crossing the campsite at a gallop. The fire pit was on his left, and it was raked as well–empty of any ashes and incriminating evidence. “I'm not lying! Or crazy!” Aaron called over his shoulder as he raced into the woods.
“Hey, kid, come back here!” Carl said, following after Aaron, with Tremblay close behind him.
Aaron found himself running through the very woods he had just fled, only this time in the opposite direction. Potentially towards danger.
twelve
A voice crackled over the radio hanging on Tremblay's belt: “Sheriff Tremblay. Do you read me?”
With a snort, Tremblay stopped in his tracks and removed his radio to answer the call. Ahead of him, Carl and Aaron disappeared on their forage into the forest. “Go ahead.”
“I've got Mister Stevens here and he'd like to speak to you about…”
“Tell him I'm busy right now,” Tremblay said, putting his sunglasses back on, over his slitted eyes.
“I heard that,” Derek Stevens could be heard in the background at the dispatch office.
Tremblay lowered the radio. “Christ.”
Tremblay rubbed his temples with one hand and tried to find his Zen, but it was difficult. Given the history between Derek Stevens and himself, Tremblay found it very difficult to talk to the man.
Back when Tremblay was seeking election for the post of Sheriff, Stevens doubted that Tremblay could do the job. And he wasn't quiet about it. Stevens talked to every high-end official in the town about his doubts, making secretive phone calls that cast doubt on Tremblay's drive and abilities. Or so it has been rumored numerous times to Tremblay by many trusty sources.
Even so, the town prevailed against all of Stevens' claims and elected Tremblay ten years ago. Stevens never backed down nor apologized, and Tremblay never
Similar Books
