Posted: Sat Jul 23, 2005 8:48 pm
Only three more chapters (including this one) and we begin a new part that jumps two months ahead to the end of October. (Halloween, actually. Prime time for alien costumes in the Roswell area in 1947. 
)
CHAPTER FORTY-TWO
September 5, 1947, 5:00 p.m.
Franklin Delano Roosevelt School
Dee Proctor sat alone on the playground bench watching Anthony give his version of what had happened to one of the two sheriff's deputies, neither of whom she knew. Sheriff Wilcox must still be having trouble finding deputies. She'd already given her spiel, dutifully pointing out each and every one of the teenagers who had been involved, all of whom were now splayed around the playground, groaning and shielding their eyes. River Dog had been taken away in an ambulance, and Bright Sun had been ferried home by one of the school staff. She'd overheard one of the ambulance attendants saying that River Dog had a broken arm and a lot of bruises, but that he'd be okay, so she was grateful for that. She'd called to Brivari several times, but received no answer. Either he'd left or he was merely watching silently, back in the eavesdropping mode that annoyed her so much, and had saved their skins today.
Brivari's light had been so intense that Dee had remained on the floor with her eyes screwed tightly shut and her hands clasped over Anthony's and Bright Sun's faces long after she couldn't feel it any more. When she had finally dared to crack an eyelid, what she'd seen had been incredible. River Dog still lay on the floor, his eyes closed, seemingly oblivious. And all the teenage boys were on the floor too, every single one of them, moaning in pain with their hands over their eyes. She hadn't been surprised; the light had been so strong with her eyes closed that she could only imagine what it would do to someone whose eyes had been open when it first flashed. For a moment, she'd felt almost sorry for the boys, who'd tangled with something they probably couldn't even imagine. But it was only a moment, and it passed quickly. They'd gotten what they deserved.
And then the firemen had arrived, astonished at the scene in the gym. River Dog, beaten and bloody, she, Anthony, and Bright Sun huddled in a pile, the boys on the floor moaning, all the windows broken, glass everywhere—it was quite a sight. She'd lost no time telling the firemen what had really happened, and one of them had called Sheriff Wilcox and an ambulance while the rest looked for signs of a fire. It turned out there was no fire, and no one knew who had pulled the alarm or why. The office staff had turned it off when they couldn't find who'd pulled it, but the fire department still had to come and check. Thank goodness.
So now Dee was just waiting for Anthony to finish with the deputies so they could go home. She'd already been to the school office where she'd called her Mama, assured her she was all right, and further assured her that she hadn't been the cause of the fracas. She wasn't sure her mother believed that, but more alarming had been her decision to march down to the school immediately.
"People are saying some weird things happened," Dee had said cryptically, hoping her mother would get the message, one of the school secretaries only inches from her elbow. "So the Sheriff's deputies are asking a lot of questions. They're almost finished, and then I can come home. You don't need to come."
"Hoo boy," Emily had puffed into the phone. "I take it our guest has been busy?"
"Yup," Dee had confirmed.
"Are you sure you're all right?"
"Positive. Thanks to who you just mentioned."
Thankfully, her mother had agreed to stay put. Minimizing the number of Proctors around anything alien related was always a good idea.
"Psst! Dee!"
Dee turned around. She could just make out the toe of a shoe sticking out from behind the tree near the bench. Cautiously, she stood up and headed for the tree.
"Rachel? What are you doing here?"
"Are you all right?" Rachel asked in a hushed voice, ignoring Dee's question. She was plastered behind the tree, darting frightened looks toward the dozens of people who now filled the playground, lured by the sound of the sirens.
"Yeah, I'm all right," Dee answered. "But…."
"What about Anthony? And Bright Sun?"
"They're all right too," Dee said. "But…"
"And….and River Dog? Did you find him?"
"We found him," Dee said. "Being beaten to a pulp by a bunch of teenagers in the gym. But the fire alarm went off, and the fire department showed up and stopped them," she finished, leaving out the real source of their deliverance.
"I know," Rachel said, looking extremely guilty.
"Rachel, what are you doing here? You were on your way home."
"I came back," Rachel said, her eyes still shifting left and right as though she expected someone to jump out at her at any moment. "I….." She paused and swallowed hard. "I pulled the fire alarm."
"You pulled the alarm?" Dee repeated in disbelief. "Why?"
"Because I'd heard that someone was planning to hurt the Indians," Rachel said miserably. "But I didn't know who, or where or when….it wasn't anything a grown-up would have listened to. That's why I told you not to look for River Dog. I figured he was late because someone had already gotten to him, and I didn't want all of you mixed up in it. But then you went anyway, and I waited for you for a long time. I even went over to the high school, but they hadn't seen you." Rachel's eyes widened at the memory. Going over to the high school was one of the scariest things a grade schooler could do. "So I pulled the alarm, hoping that would stop whatever was happening," she continued. "I used the one right outside the office, and I ran as fast as I could after I'd pulled it. I couldn't let them catch me, because then they'd want to know where I'd seen the fire. I wanted them to search the whole school, not just one spot."
Dee listened to this recital in shock. It was brilliant. Absolutely brilliant. Why hadn't she and Anthony thought of pulling an alarm? Here she'd been thinking Rachel was such a coward, and she'd gone and done something really brave.
"Pulling the alarm was a great idea, Rachel," Dee said sincerely. "I wish I'd thought of it."
Rachel stared at her in surprise. "Really?"
"Really. After we found River Dog, we were arguing about what to do. We never thought of pulling the alarm."
"You didn't?" Rachel was flabbergasted. "But—it was so obvious! And you're always the one with all the ideas."
"Not today," Dee smiled. "You saved us."
Rachel broke into a wide smile as Dee privately wondered whether Brivari was listening. It wasn't Rachel who had saved the day, of course, but if Brivari hadn't been there, Rachel's alarm would still have helped. She'd done some really scary things today; scary for her, anyway. Let her think she'd saved the day. She deserved it.
"Now get out of here," Dee commanded, looking over at Anthony, who was heading back their way. "No one knows who pulled the alarm, and there's no reason to tell them."
"Are you sure?"
"Positive," Dee said firmly. "If they find out you did it, they'll want to know why, and what you heard, and who you heard it from, and a million other details. And they don't need to. They've got the people who did it; there's no reason for you to go through that."
Rachel, who had blanched at the mention of everything people would want to know, nodded hastily and scurried away. She was long gone and Dee was back on the bench before Anthony arrived.
"What happened?" Dee asked when he reached the bench.
"I told them everything we saw, just like you did," he replied. "I think they believe us about the boys trying to beat us up and blame River Dog. I said I don't know how the windows broke the way they did or what caused the light. They want to know why you, me, and Bright Sun don't have sore eyes like everyone else. I told them we must have just closed our eyes faster."
Dee looked sideways at Anthony. Fortunately, only he and Bright Sun had heard her warning about the light, and Bright Sun had been much too distracted to notice that Dee had known what was going to happen before it happened. Anthony must have noticed, but he hadn't asked about it—yet. He'd promised not to ask....but he couldn't keep that promise forever. And she'd promised not to tell....but she couldn't keep that promise forever either. Besides, it was looking more and more like Anthony deserved to be told at least something. One of these days, she was going to have a hard decision to make.
"So now they're going to arrest the boys, right?"
"Um…I don't know," Anthony said carefully.
Dee looked at him suspiciously. "What do you mean, you don't know?"
"I overheard the deputies talking," Anthony said, lowering his voice and leaning his head in toward hers, "and it didn't sound good. I guess they think that beating up an Indian isn't a reason to arrest all those boys."
"What?" Dee exploded, springing to her feet. "Do you mean to tell me that after all we went through, they're just going to let them go?"
"Wait!" Anthony said urgently, grabbing her arm as she started to sprint away. "It's not up to the two deputies we talked to—they're new. It's up to the other one they just sent from the sheriff's office……."
But she wrenched away from him and marched off, ignoring his calls pleading for her to come back, that he had something else to tell her, something she should know. We'll just see about this, she thought darkly. She knew all of Sheriff Wilcox's regular deputies, so if it was any of them, they might listen to her. Or to her parents, whom she was certain would agree those boys should be punished.
Rounding a corner into the parking lot, Dee nearly bumped into the second Sheriff's cruiser, wedged in between the fire truck and the first cruiser. Three deputies were locked in a heated argument just behind the car, the two she'd already met and a the new arrival, whose back was to her. Maybe it was Deputy Woods. Or maybe Sheriff Wilcox had come down himself.
The new deputy turned around, and Dee reflexively ducked behind the cruiser so he wouldn't see her. Valenti! Why him? Of all the deputies they could have sent, why did it have to be him? Why couldn't they have sent someone she knew? Or at least someone who would have sympathized? Instead she had Valenti, not exactly the champion of the oppressed and protector of everyone different. He was probably mad because the other deputies had kept all those high school boys around for so long just because they'd beat up an Indian.
The argument had paused, all three deputies glaring at each other. It only took Dee a moment to reach a decision. After everything they'd been through—after everything River Dog had been through—she couldn't just walk away and say nothing while they let those boys off the hook. She began to rise from her crouched position, prepared to kick up one hell of a fuss if she had to.....only to duck back down as Valenti whipped around and slammed his hat down on the trunk of the car.
******************************************************
"I can't believe this!" Valenti exclaimed to the sullen deputies, who had both jumped at his outburst. "I can't believe you were ready to let them all go!"
"Calm down, Jim," Deputy Edwards said. "It's just an Indian."
"Don't 'just an Indian' me!" Valenti said angrily. "Someone under our protection was assaulted on our watch! Doesn't that mean something to you?"
"Look, with all the talk about bright lights and windows breaking by themselves, we can't tell for sure what happened," Deputy Davidson said reasonably. "What are we going to arrest them for?"
Valenti flung himself around in exasperation, planting his hands on the trunk of the car, trying to rein in his temper. What was the matter with these people? Hadn't they heard a word anyone had said during their training, assuming they'd shown up for it to begin with? However desperate Wilcox was for employees, there was no excuse for so-called deputies who didn't seem to know even the barest essentials of their job.
"Let me get this straight," Valenti said in a barely controlled voice. "You have a victim who's been beaten six ways to Sunday. He's sporting a broken arm, a black eye, multiple bruises, and God knows what else. You've got a bunch of teenagers without a scratch on them with weird stories about lights and windows. And you've got three witnesses who say they saw this group of boys attacking the victim. How am I doing?"
There was an uncomfortable silence. "Well, the boys say that the Indian was going to attack the three witnesses, and they stopped him," Edwards said awkwardly.
"Just how early yesterday were you born?" Valenti snapped. "I hear one of those witnesses was the Indian's own sister. Would he be attacking his own sister? And why would a group of eighteen high school boys have to beat the ever-loving shit out of one Indian just to pull him off of anyone? Ever heard of 'excessive use of force'?"
"Look, Valenti, something weird was goin' on in there," Davidson protested. "Most of those boys' eyes are still sensitive to light. They're seein' halos around things and spots in front of their eyes. Something happened to them, something we can't explain. And no one can figure out how all the windows broke."
"And we can continue to pursue that," Valenti countered. "But first things first. We have an assault victim with serious injuries, and we have witnesses to the attack. And even if I did believe that cock-n-bull story about the boys trying to 'save' those witnesses, that doesn't justify that kid's injuries. That mob is still in deep trouble."
"Aren't we getting' all worked up over nothin'?" Edwards asked. "It's an Indian, Valenti. Shouldn't even be here, if you ask me. I'm not saying that's a reason to do what those boys did, or that it's right. But I'm just not comfortable giving all those boys a record for an Indian. Why don't we call their parents to come get'em, and giv'em a talkin' to, and see if that doesn't do it?"
"Besides, it'll take forever to book that many people," Davidson complained. "Hours, probably. I'm off at six, which means…."
"Damn it!" Valenti slammed his hand down on the trunk, causing both deputies to back up a step. "Let's review a few things. We are Sheriff's deputies. We are here to serve the people. To protect the people. Pay attention to that phrase, 'the people'. I didn't say 'some of the people', or 'the people who look like us', or 'the people we like'. I said the people. That means all of the people, all of the time. That means white people, and black people, and Indian people, and Asian people, and….hell, Edwards, that even means assholes like you."
Edwards flushed. Davidson just looked sullen.
"A law was broken here today," Valenti continued in a raw, angry voice. "No one—and I mean no one—has the right to assault another person the way that Indian boy was assaulted. I don't care what they think he did, or was going to do, or might do in the future. There is no excuse for that level of violence. And there is no excuse for those who are supposed to administer justice looking the other way because they're off at six!"
Silence. Edwards was now sulking just like Davidson.
"So here's what we're going to do," Valenti continued. "We're going to haul each and every one of their sorry asses down to the station and book them on charges of assault. I don't care if it takes us past six. I don't care if it takes us the whole damned night. Is that clear?"
"Damn, Valenti," Edwards muttered. "That's a lot of fuss for an Indian."
"This isn't about your personal opinion," Valenti retorted. "This is about the letter of the law. A law was broken, so we arrest the people who broke it. That's our job. It's that simple. And believe me, you'll thank me for this, gentlemen. I know you haven't had a chance to meet Sheriff Wilcox yet, but if you don't take those kids down and book them, he'll have your nuts for breakfast."
"All right, all right," Davidson sighed in exasperation. "Let's get started. What do you want us to do with the witnesses? They've all given statements."
"They're still here?"
"The Indian girl was driven home. The others are still here, I think. Two white kids, a boy and a girl." He leafed through the stack of papers in his hands. "Anthony Evans and Deanna Proctor."
******************************************************
"You want them down at the station too?" a voice was asking.
Silence. Papers rustled. Her back pressed against the right rear tire of the cruiser, Dee closed her eyes and waited for Valenti to put it all together with less dread than she would have before. Never in a million years would she have expected him to champion her side of things with the vehemence he just had.
"No," Valenti said, his voice hushed now. "I'll take them home myself, and then come back to help you two out. You go start booking all those boys."
Footsteps crunched away. She peeked over the edge of the cruiser; Valenti still had his back to her, immersed in the various papers he'd been handed, standing stock still as he read them. She knew he was reading all the reports with new eyes, reevaluating everything in light of her involvement. Nothing could be proven, and anyone else would probably have just let it drop....but not Valenti. He knew too much to just let this go. He would find her, and she would have to tell him something. She could put it off, but she couldn't avoid it.
Recalling her earlier decision, Dee stood up. There was a lot to be said for making this happen on her own terms. Valenti would have a lot of questions, but that was all right, because she had a lot of questions herself. It was really too bad he wasn't on their side. Especially since it turned out that his own views, about humans at least, were right on par with her own.
Valenti finished reading, closed the folder which held the stack of papers, and turned away from her, scanning the schoolyard behind them. Dee knew he was looking for her.
"Hello," she said, as Valenti whirled around in shock. "Looking for me?"
******************************************************
"Here you go, Mr. Evans," Deputy Valenti said cheerfully. "Curbside service."
The sandy-haired boy seated closest to the passenger door took a long look at the middle occupant of the front seat. "Wanna come in for a bit?" he asked hopefully.
Dee Proctor shook her head. "No, thanks. After dinner. The usual place."
The boy nodded reluctantly, opened the car door and climbed out, pausing with his hand on the door. "Why don't you get out here too? Your house is right up there."
"I'm fine, Anthony," Dee said calmly. "I'll see you later."
Valenti suppressed a smile as the boy reluctantly walked away, throwing glances back at the cruiser as he headed up his front walk. Young Mr. Evans had been plainly horrified when Miss Proctor had informed him that they would both be riding home with Valenti, and had spent several anxious minutes trying to diplomatically talk her out of it. Valenti gave the kid honest points for his concern and tenaciousness, even though he ultimately failed—ride home with him they did, with Valenti a curious mixture of excited and apprehensive about this sudden turn in the road.
After Anthony was safely inside his house, Valenti moved the car forward, stopping halfway between the Evans's and Proctor's houses. The last thing he needed was for Emily Proctor to look out her front window and see her daughter sitting in the front seat of his cruiser. He shifted to park, turned off the engine, and turned to look at his passenger, who was giving him one of her trademark level stares. Weird, Valenti thought. He'd pursued this child in various ways for the past two months, never managing to get close to her. Now she had come to him....and he hadn't the faintest idea why.
"Well?" Valenti said finally, eager to break the awkward silence.
"Well what?" she asked calmly, still not having moved a muscle toward getting out of the car.
"Well….what are we doing here?"
"You have some questions for me, don't you?"
Valenti smiled. "And since when are you willing to answer my questions?"
"I have some questions for you too," she announced. "And since we both have questions, I propose a trade."
"A trade?" Valenti echoed. "What kind of trade?"
She twisted sideways in the seat to face him. "The same kind of trade we kids use when we're trading secrets. Here's how it works: We take turns asking each other questions. You don't have to answer, but each time you don't, the other person gets to ask another question. They can keep asking until they find one you're willing to answer. So if you never answer, you never get to ask."
"What's the catch?"
"No catch," she said firmly. "And you only get to ask one question on each turn. No twofers. Either one of us can call it quits as long as both of us have had an equal number of chances. And I go first."
"Why do you go first?"
"Because you want to know more from me than I want to know from you."
"I see," Valenti said slowly, wondering what she could possibly want to know from him. He considered a moment. "I gotta tell you, Miss Proctor, that sounds like an awfully one-sided 'trade'."
She shrugged. "Take it or leave it."
"If I 'leave it', then you don't get your questions answered," he pointed out.
"That's okay with me," she replied calmly. "I'll just go home and pretend we never talked. But what about you? You've been trying to get at me for ages now. Can you really pass this up?"
Valenti stared at her in disbelief for a moment before breaking into laughter. Incredible. At the ripe old age of nine, she was calling the shots.....and she knew it.
"You're laughing at me," she said accusingly.
"No!" Valenti protested. "No, no, not at all. I'm laughing at the situation, that's all."
"I'm serious," she insisted.
"Oh, I know that," Valenti assured her. "I know that very well. And you're absolutely right—this is too good of an offer to pass up. Even if it is one-sided."
"It's only one-sided in the beginning because I start first. But after that we take turns, and we each get the same number of turns."
Valenti held up a hand. "Okay, okay—a bit one-sided. I accept your offer," he said solemnly. "So you're up first. Shoot."
"Is it true what you said to those other deputies back there about River Dog? About it being your job to protect all the people?"
Valenti blinked in surprise. This was her question? A question important enough to risk exposing herself to him? But then she had been in the act of trying to protect the Indians when the fire department had arrived, so perhaps the notion of letting the teens off the hook had been enough to push her over the edge.
"You heard that?"
"All of it. Even the part about having to protect assholes like that deputy."
Valenti looked away, flushing. Of course she had to have heard that. "I...I guess I was angry, and said some things I shouldn't have," he allowed. "I'd appreciate it if you wouldn't repeat that."
"Repeat what?" she asked innocently.
"Right," Valenti said. "Thank you." God, she was quick. "Now....what I said—the other part, I mean—was absolutely true. Everyone in law enforcement has a responsibility to protect every American citizen—we don't get to pick and choose. We even have to protect people who break the law, like those boys did."
"What about people who aren't American citizens?"
Valenti's eyebrows rose. Was this going where he thought it was going? "I do believe that's another question, Miss Proctor. You said no twofers."
Her face clouded as she realized she'd been caught by her own rules. But only for a moment. "Okay. Your turn."
"The handyman you helped out at Chamber's Grocery back on the Fourth," Valenti said. "What happened that morning?"
He watched her carefully to see how she would react, but she never so much as blinked. "Not much," she answered casually. "I showed him the way downtown. Denny Miltnor and his gang tried to steal the food, and he stopped them. And then we went back to the store."
"And where did he go then?"
"I don't know. He just left with the food Mr. Chambers said he could have."
"Did he have a name?"
"Yup. James."
"James?"
"Uh-huh."
"James what?"
"Beats me. He just told me to call him James."
"And when he... 'stopped' Miltnor and the rest of them from pilfering from Mr. Chambers' truck, how did he do that?"
"He told them to stop, or he'd make them stop."
"That's it? He just 'told them' to stop?"
She thought a moment. "Yeah. That's it."
"So I take it you don't agree with the tales Miltnor's friends were telling about what this 'James' could do?"
"I don't know. What did they say he could do?"
Valenti paused, frustrated. This kid was slipperier than a member of the Mafia; she'd just keep repeating that she didn't know, and he had no way of proving otherwise. Time for some hardball.
"There's a funny thing about this 'James', Miss Proctor. The handyman who showed up on the Fourth was not the same handyman that Mr. and Mrs. Chambers had hired. That handyman never showed up. I have witnesses who place him in Santa Rita on the Fourth."
"So?"
"So who was the man who actually did show up at Chambers' on the Fourth?"
She shrugged indifferently. "How should I know? I don't know who Mr. Chambers hired or didn't hire. Ask him. I'm just a kid."
Like hell you are, Valenti thought sourly, realizing he'd hit another dead end. She hadn't betrayed so much as a flicker of emotion at anything he'd said, hadn't looked startled, or guilty, or worried. He'd met bona fide criminals who couldn't pull off a poker face like hers.
"Denny's friends say they saw you and your 'James' together at the carnival the night Denny was killed," Valenti said, watching her closely. "What do you know about that?"
"He wasn't 'my James'," she replied, returning his stare, "everyone in town was at the carnival, and that's another question, Deputy Valenti."
They stared at each other a moment, Valenti tapping his fingers on the steering wheel. He was on even shakier ground here, largely because she was right—just about everyone had been at that carnival, so the handyman's presence there was unremarkable. No one had seen her and Miltnor together, or Miltnor and the handyman together, so that avenue was closed too. Another dead end.
"Fair enough," Valenti said finally. "Your turn."
"Do you also have to protect people who aren't American citizens?"
Valenti eyed her a moment, suddenly realizing two things: She was heading exactly where he'd thought she was, and perhaps he'd been going about this all wrong. Perhaps the way to get information in this game was to let her ask questions instead of watching her run circles around his own.
"Well....that depends."
"On what?"
"On where they're from, what kind of relations their country has with ours, whether our laws are very different or not. Stuff like that. And they need papers that give them a legal right to be here."
"Why do they have to have papers?"
Valenti sighed. "Look, Miss Proctor.....the fact is, people just can't up and come to the United States. No matter how they get here." Her eyes narrowed slightly, but she didn't interrupt. "If someone isn't a U.S. citizen, they have to have permission from our government to be here. And if they don't have that permission, then they're here illegally, and I have an obligation to arrest them. It's that simple."
"Okay, so you have to arrest them. But can you hurt them?"
"No," Valenti admitted. "That's never allowed. Internationals may not enjoy all the rights we Americans do, but if they're on American soil, there are certain laws that apply."
"And what if someone else tried to hurt them? Would you have to protect them?"
Valenti stared out the front windshield, feeling her eyes boring into him, waiting for an answer. He already knew what the answer was, and he also knew he'd been effectively, systematically backed into the proverbial corner without her having given up a blessed thing. Perhaps a little candor was in order.
"It's my responsibility to protect every human within my jurisdiction, whether or not they are a citizen of this country," he said, swinging his gaze toward hers. Surely she'd react to that. She'd have to.
No such luck. "What if you saw someone hurting an animal?" she demanded. "What if those boys were beating a dog? Would you have to protect the dog?"
"Well.....yes, but that's because there are laws—"
"But you said human," she reminded him. "The dog isn't human. So it's not just humans you have to protect."
"That's not what I meant, and you know it!" Valenti protested.
Her eyebrows rose. "Really? What did you mean?"
Valenti stared at her a moment, then shook his head in disbelief. "Miss Proctor, you're way over your one question limit, aren't you?"
"Okay," she said, not bothering to argue the point. She'd gotten what she wanted—she'd maneuvered him into admitting he had obligations to more than just the human race, so she could afford to be magnanimous. "Your turn."
"What happened back there, with all the windows breaking and that bright light?"
She shrugged. "I don't know."
"You expect me to believe that?"
"I didn't see anything that would have broken the windows, and I have no idea what the light was. We were all on the floor with our eyes shut because it was so bright. No one else knows what happened either, so why would you think I would?"
"Here's the deal, Miss Proctor," Valenti sighed, tiring of the cat and mouse game. "Weird things happen when you're around. People get thrown against walls without anyone touching them, windows break, strange lights flare. You have to admit it's all very odd."
"You think I did all those things?"
"No. No, I don't. But I think you know who did. And I think you know why."
"Well, 'why' isn't hard to figure out."
"It isn't?"
She looked away, toward her house, and Valenti followed her gaze, his stomach flip-flopping when he saw Emily Proctor stick her head out the door and glance briefly left and right before withdrawing inside. If she saw them, she'd never believe her daughter had come to him willingly....and he apparently wasn't the only one who thought so. "Time's up," Emily's younger version announced. "You don't want my mother to find me out here with you." She climbed out of the car, shut the door, and closed it, staring in through the window.
"If the handyman hadn't done what he did, Mr. Chambers would have been robbed, and I might have gotten hurt. And what would have happened today without the windows and the light? You saw what those boys did to River Dog, and we were next. They were coming right for us when that light went off, as close to us as you are to me now. Think about it," she added seriously. "People could have gotten hurt....but they didn't."
And then she was gone, skipping up the sidewalk toward her house, her bookbag banging against her leg as she walked, while Valenti stared after her, remembering what Bill Chambers had told him about the one thing his "handyman" had said. "Well, it was odd, the way he put it. He said, 'I protect. That's what I do'."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I'll post Chapter 43 next Sunday.
)CHAPTER FORTY-TWO
September 5, 1947, 5:00 p.m.
Franklin Delano Roosevelt School
Dee Proctor sat alone on the playground bench watching Anthony give his version of what had happened to one of the two sheriff's deputies, neither of whom she knew. Sheriff Wilcox must still be having trouble finding deputies. She'd already given her spiel, dutifully pointing out each and every one of the teenagers who had been involved, all of whom were now splayed around the playground, groaning and shielding their eyes. River Dog had been taken away in an ambulance, and Bright Sun had been ferried home by one of the school staff. She'd overheard one of the ambulance attendants saying that River Dog had a broken arm and a lot of bruises, but that he'd be okay, so she was grateful for that. She'd called to Brivari several times, but received no answer. Either he'd left or he was merely watching silently, back in the eavesdropping mode that annoyed her so much, and had saved their skins today.
Brivari's light had been so intense that Dee had remained on the floor with her eyes screwed tightly shut and her hands clasped over Anthony's and Bright Sun's faces long after she couldn't feel it any more. When she had finally dared to crack an eyelid, what she'd seen had been incredible. River Dog still lay on the floor, his eyes closed, seemingly oblivious. And all the teenage boys were on the floor too, every single one of them, moaning in pain with their hands over their eyes. She hadn't been surprised; the light had been so strong with her eyes closed that she could only imagine what it would do to someone whose eyes had been open when it first flashed. For a moment, she'd felt almost sorry for the boys, who'd tangled with something they probably couldn't even imagine. But it was only a moment, and it passed quickly. They'd gotten what they deserved.
And then the firemen had arrived, astonished at the scene in the gym. River Dog, beaten and bloody, she, Anthony, and Bright Sun huddled in a pile, the boys on the floor moaning, all the windows broken, glass everywhere—it was quite a sight. She'd lost no time telling the firemen what had really happened, and one of them had called Sheriff Wilcox and an ambulance while the rest looked for signs of a fire. It turned out there was no fire, and no one knew who had pulled the alarm or why. The office staff had turned it off when they couldn't find who'd pulled it, but the fire department still had to come and check. Thank goodness.
So now Dee was just waiting for Anthony to finish with the deputies so they could go home. She'd already been to the school office where she'd called her Mama, assured her she was all right, and further assured her that she hadn't been the cause of the fracas. She wasn't sure her mother believed that, but more alarming had been her decision to march down to the school immediately.
"People are saying some weird things happened," Dee had said cryptically, hoping her mother would get the message, one of the school secretaries only inches from her elbow. "So the Sheriff's deputies are asking a lot of questions. They're almost finished, and then I can come home. You don't need to come."
"Hoo boy," Emily had puffed into the phone. "I take it our guest has been busy?"
"Yup," Dee had confirmed.
"Are you sure you're all right?"
"Positive. Thanks to who you just mentioned."
Thankfully, her mother had agreed to stay put. Minimizing the number of Proctors around anything alien related was always a good idea.
"Psst! Dee!"
Dee turned around. She could just make out the toe of a shoe sticking out from behind the tree near the bench. Cautiously, she stood up and headed for the tree.
"Rachel? What are you doing here?"
"Are you all right?" Rachel asked in a hushed voice, ignoring Dee's question. She was plastered behind the tree, darting frightened looks toward the dozens of people who now filled the playground, lured by the sound of the sirens.
"Yeah, I'm all right," Dee answered. "But…."
"What about Anthony? And Bright Sun?"
"They're all right too," Dee said. "But…"
"And….and River Dog? Did you find him?"
"We found him," Dee said. "Being beaten to a pulp by a bunch of teenagers in the gym. But the fire alarm went off, and the fire department showed up and stopped them," she finished, leaving out the real source of their deliverance.
"I know," Rachel said, looking extremely guilty.
"Rachel, what are you doing here? You were on your way home."
"I came back," Rachel said, her eyes still shifting left and right as though she expected someone to jump out at her at any moment. "I….." She paused and swallowed hard. "I pulled the fire alarm."
"You pulled the alarm?" Dee repeated in disbelief. "Why?"
"Because I'd heard that someone was planning to hurt the Indians," Rachel said miserably. "But I didn't know who, or where or when….it wasn't anything a grown-up would have listened to. That's why I told you not to look for River Dog. I figured he was late because someone had already gotten to him, and I didn't want all of you mixed up in it. But then you went anyway, and I waited for you for a long time. I even went over to the high school, but they hadn't seen you." Rachel's eyes widened at the memory. Going over to the high school was one of the scariest things a grade schooler could do. "So I pulled the alarm, hoping that would stop whatever was happening," she continued. "I used the one right outside the office, and I ran as fast as I could after I'd pulled it. I couldn't let them catch me, because then they'd want to know where I'd seen the fire. I wanted them to search the whole school, not just one spot."
Dee listened to this recital in shock. It was brilliant. Absolutely brilliant. Why hadn't she and Anthony thought of pulling an alarm? Here she'd been thinking Rachel was such a coward, and she'd gone and done something really brave.
"Pulling the alarm was a great idea, Rachel," Dee said sincerely. "I wish I'd thought of it."
Rachel stared at her in surprise. "Really?"
"Really. After we found River Dog, we were arguing about what to do. We never thought of pulling the alarm."
"You didn't?" Rachel was flabbergasted. "But—it was so obvious! And you're always the one with all the ideas."
"Not today," Dee smiled. "You saved us."
Rachel broke into a wide smile as Dee privately wondered whether Brivari was listening. It wasn't Rachel who had saved the day, of course, but if Brivari hadn't been there, Rachel's alarm would still have helped. She'd done some really scary things today; scary for her, anyway. Let her think she'd saved the day. She deserved it.
"Now get out of here," Dee commanded, looking over at Anthony, who was heading back their way. "No one knows who pulled the alarm, and there's no reason to tell them."
"Are you sure?"
"Positive," Dee said firmly. "If they find out you did it, they'll want to know why, and what you heard, and who you heard it from, and a million other details. And they don't need to. They've got the people who did it; there's no reason for you to go through that."
Rachel, who had blanched at the mention of everything people would want to know, nodded hastily and scurried away. She was long gone and Dee was back on the bench before Anthony arrived.
"What happened?" Dee asked when he reached the bench.
"I told them everything we saw, just like you did," he replied. "I think they believe us about the boys trying to beat us up and blame River Dog. I said I don't know how the windows broke the way they did or what caused the light. They want to know why you, me, and Bright Sun don't have sore eyes like everyone else. I told them we must have just closed our eyes faster."
Dee looked sideways at Anthony. Fortunately, only he and Bright Sun had heard her warning about the light, and Bright Sun had been much too distracted to notice that Dee had known what was going to happen before it happened. Anthony must have noticed, but he hadn't asked about it—yet. He'd promised not to ask....but he couldn't keep that promise forever. And she'd promised not to tell....but she couldn't keep that promise forever either. Besides, it was looking more and more like Anthony deserved to be told at least something. One of these days, she was going to have a hard decision to make.
"So now they're going to arrest the boys, right?"
"Um…I don't know," Anthony said carefully.
Dee looked at him suspiciously. "What do you mean, you don't know?"
"I overheard the deputies talking," Anthony said, lowering his voice and leaning his head in toward hers, "and it didn't sound good. I guess they think that beating up an Indian isn't a reason to arrest all those boys."
"What?" Dee exploded, springing to her feet. "Do you mean to tell me that after all we went through, they're just going to let them go?"
"Wait!" Anthony said urgently, grabbing her arm as she started to sprint away. "It's not up to the two deputies we talked to—they're new. It's up to the other one they just sent from the sheriff's office……."
But she wrenched away from him and marched off, ignoring his calls pleading for her to come back, that he had something else to tell her, something she should know. We'll just see about this, she thought darkly. She knew all of Sheriff Wilcox's regular deputies, so if it was any of them, they might listen to her. Or to her parents, whom she was certain would agree those boys should be punished.
Rounding a corner into the parking lot, Dee nearly bumped into the second Sheriff's cruiser, wedged in between the fire truck and the first cruiser. Three deputies were locked in a heated argument just behind the car, the two she'd already met and a the new arrival, whose back was to her. Maybe it was Deputy Woods. Or maybe Sheriff Wilcox had come down himself.
The new deputy turned around, and Dee reflexively ducked behind the cruiser so he wouldn't see her. Valenti! Why him? Of all the deputies they could have sent, why did it have to be him? Why couldn't they have sent someone she knew? Or at least someone who would have sympathized? Instead she had Valenti, not exactly the champion of the oppressed and protector of everyone different. He was probably mad because the other deputies had kept all those high school boys around for so long just because they'd beat up an Indian.
The argument had paused, all three deputies glaring at each other. It only took Dee a moment to reach a decision. After everything they'd been through—after everything River Dog had been through—she couldn't just walk away and say nothing while they let those boys off the hook. She began to rise from her crouched position, prepared to kick up one hell of a fuss if she had to.....only to duck back down as Valenti whipped around and slammed his hat down on the trunk of the car.
******************************************************
"I can't believe this!" Valenti exclaimed to the sullen deputies, who had both jumped at his outburst. "I can't believe you were ready to let them all go!"
"Calm down, Jim," Deputy Edwards said. "It's just an Indian."
"Don't 'just an Indian' me!" Valenti said angrily. "Someone under our protection was assaulted on our watch! Doesn't that mean something to you?"
"Look, with all the talk about bright lights and windows breaking by themselves, we can't tell for sure what happened," Deputy Davidson said reasonably. "What are we going to arrest them for?"
Valenti flung himself around in exasperation, planting his hands on the trunk of the car, trying to rein in his temper. What was the matter with these people? Hadn't they heard a word anyone had said during their training, assuming they'd shown up for it to begin with? However desperate Wilcox was for employees, there was no excuse for so-called deputies who didn't seem to know even the barest essentials of their job.
"Let me get this straight," Valenti said in a barely controlled voice. "You have a victim who's been beaten six ways to Sunday. He's sporting a broken arm, a black eye, multiple bruises, and God knows what else. You've got a bunch of teenagers without a scratch on them with weird stories about lights and windows. And you've got three witnesses who say they saw this group of boys attacking the victim. How am I doing?"
There was an uncomfortable silence. "Well, the boys say that the Indian was going to attack the three witnesses, and they stopped him," Edwards said awkwardly.
"Just how early yesterday were you born?" Valenti snapped. "I hear one of those witnesses was the Indian's own sister. Would he be attacking his own sister? And why would a group of eighteen high school boys have to beat the ever-loving shit out of one Indian just to pull him off of anyone? Ever heard of 'excessive use of force'?"
"Look, Valenti, something weird was goin' on in there," Davidson protested. "Most of those boys' eyes are still sensitive to light. They're seein' halos around things and spots in front of their eyes. Something happened to them, something we can't explain. And no one can figure out how all the windows broke."
"And we can continue to pursue that," Valenti countered. "But first things first. We have an assault victim with serious injuries, and we have witnesses to the attack. And even if I did believe that cock-n-bull story about the boys trying to 'save' those witnesses, that doesn't justify that kid's injuries. That mob is still in deep trouble."
"Aren't we getting' all worked up over nothin'?" Edwards asked. "It's an Indian, Valenti. Shouldn't even be here, if you ask me. I'm not saying that's a reason to do what those boys did, or that it's right. But I'm just not comfortable giving all those boys a record for an Indian. Why don't we call their parents to come get'em, and giv'em a talkin' to, and see if that doesn't do it?"
"Besides, it'll take forever to book that many people," Davidson complained. "Hours, probably. I'm off at six, which means…."
"Damn it!" Valenti slammed his hand down on the trunk, causing both deputies to back up a step. "Let's review a few things. We are Sheriff's deputies. We are here to serve the people. To protect the people. Pay attention to that phrase, 'the people'. I didn't say 'some of the people', or 'the people who look like us', or 'the people we like'. I said the people. That means all of the people, all of the time. That means white people, and black people, and Indian people, and Asian people, and….hell, Edwards, that even means assholes like you."
Edwards flushed. Davidson just looked sullen.
"A law was broken here today," Valenti continued in a raw, angry voice. "No one—and I mean no one—has the right to assault another person the way that Indian boy was assaulted. I don't care what they think he did, or was going to do, or might do in the future. There is no excuse for that level of violence. And there is no excuse for those who are supposed to administer justice looking the other way because they're off at six!"
Silence. Edwards was now sulking just like Davidson.
"So here's what we're going to do," Valenti continued. "We're going to haul each and every one of their sorry asses down to the station and book them on charges of assault. I don't care if it takes us past six. I don't care if it takes us the whole damned night. Is that clear?"
"Damn, Valenti," Edwards muttered. "That's a lot of fuss for an Indian."
"This isn't about your personal opinion," Valenti retorted. "This is about the letter of the law. A law was broken, so we arrest the people who broke it. That's our job. It's that simple. And believe me, you'll thank me for this, gentlemen. I know you haven't had a chance to meet Sheriff Wilcox yet, but if you don't take those kids down and book them, he'll have your nuts for breakfast."
"All right, all right," Davidson sighed in exasperation. "Let's get started. What do you want us to do with the witnesses? They've all given statements."
"They're still here?"
"The Indian girl was driven home. The others are still here, I think. Two white kids, a boy and a girl." He leafed through the stack of papers in his hands. "Anthony Evans and Deanna Proctor."
******************************************************
"You want them down at the station too?" a voice was asking.
Silence. Papers rustled. Her back pressed against the right rear tire of the cruiser, Dee closed her eyes and waited for Valenti to put it all together with less dread than she would have before. Never in a million years would she have expected him to champion her side of things with the vehemence he just had.
"No," Valenti said, his voice hushed now. "I'll take them home myself, and then come back to help you two out. You go start booking all those boys."
Footsteps crunched away. She peeked over the edge of the cruiser; Valenti still had his back to her, immersed in the various papers he'd been handed, standing stock still as he read them. She knew he was reading all the reports with new eyes, reevaluating everything in light of her involvement. Nothing could be proven, and anyone else would probably have just let it drop....but not Valenti. He knew too much to just let this go. He would find her, and she would have to tell him something. She could put it off, but she couldn't avoid it.
Recalling her earlier decision, Dee stood up. There was a lot to be said for making this happen on her own terms. Valenti would have a lot of questions, but that was all right, because she had a lot of questions herself. It was really too bad he wasn't on their side. Especially since it turned out that his own views, about humans at least, were right on par with her own.
Valenti finished reading, closed the folder which held the stack of papers, and turned away from her, scanning the schoolyard behind them. Dee knew he was looking for her.
"Hello," she said, as Valenti whirled around in shock. "Looking for me?"
******************************************************
"Here you go, Mr. Evans," Deputy Valenti said cheerfully. "Curbside service."
The sandy-haired boy seated closest to the passenger door took a long look at the middle occupant of the front seat. "Wanna come in for a bit?" he asked hopefully.
Dee Proctor shook her head. "No, thanks. After dinner. The usual place."
The boy nodded reluctantly, opened the car door and climbed out, pausing with his hand on the door. "Why don't you get out here too? Your house is right up there."
"I'm fine, Anthony," Dee said calmly. "I'll see you later."
Valenti suppressed a smile as the boy reluctantly walked away, throwing glances back at the cruiser as he headed up his front walk. Young Mr. Evans had been plainly horrified when Miss Proctor had informed him that they would both be riding home with Valenti, and had spent several anxious minutes trying to diplomatically talk her out of it. Valenti gave the kid honest points for his concern and tenaciousness, even though he ultimately failed—ride home with him they did, with Valenti a curious mixture of excited and apprehensive about this sudden turn in the road.
After Anthony was safely inside his house, Valenti moved the car forward, stopping halfway between the Evans's and Proctor's houses. The last thing he needed was for Emily Proctor to look out her front window and see her daughter sitting in the front seat of his cruiser. He shifted to park, turned off the engine, and turned to look at his passenger, who was giving him one of her trademark level stares. Weird, Valenti thought. He'd pursued this child in various ways for the past two months, never managing to get close to her. Now she had come to him....and he hadn't the faintest idea why.
"Well?" Valenti said finally, eager to break the awkward silence.
"Well what?" she asked calmly, still not having moved a muscle toward getting out of the car.
"Well….what are we doing here?"
"You have some questions for me, don't you?"
Valenti smiled. "And since when are you willing to answer my questions?"
"I have some questions for you too," she announced. "And since we both have questions, I propose a trade."
"A trade?" Valenti echoed. "What kind of trade?"
She twisted sideways in the seat to face him. "The same kind of trade we kids use when we're trading secrets. Here's how it works: We take turns asking each other questions. You don't have to answer, but each time you don't, the other person gets to ask another question. They can keep asking until they find one you're willing to answer. So if you never answer, you never get to ask."
"What's the catch?"
"No catch," she said firmly. "And you only get to ask one question on each turn. No twofers. Either one of us can call it quits as long as both of us have had an equal number of chances. And I go first."
"Why do you go first?"
"Because you want to know more from me than I want to know from you."
"I see," Valenti said slowly, wondering what she could possibly want to know from him. He considered a moment. "I gotta tell you, Miss Proctor, that sounds like an awfully one-sided 'trade'."
She shrugged. "Take it or leave it."
"If I 'leave it', then you don't get your questions answered," he pointed out.
"That's okay with me," she replied calmly. "I'll just go home and pretend we never talked. But what about you? You've been trying to get at me for ages now. Can you really pass this up?"
Valenti stared at her in disbelief for a moment before breaking into laughter. Incredible. At the ripe old age of nine, she was calling the shots.....and she knew it.
"You're laughing at me," she said accusingly.
"No!" Valenti protested. "No, no, not at all. I'm laughing at the situation, that's all."
"I'm serious," she insisted.
"Oh, I know that," Valenti assured her. "I know that very well. And you're absolutely right—this is too good of an offer to pass up. Even if it is one-sided."
"It's only one-sided in the beginning because I start first. But after that we take turns, and we each get the same number of turns."
Valenti held up a hand. "Okay, okay—a bit one-sided. I accept your offer," he said solemnly. "So you're up first. Shoot."
"Is it true what you said to those other deputies back there about River Dog? About it being your job to protect all the people?"
Valenti blinked in surprise. This was her question? A question important enough to risk exposing herself to him? But then she had been in the act of trying to protect the Indians when the fire department had arrived, so perhaps the notion of letting the teens off the hook had been enough to push her over the edge.
"You heard that?"
"All of it. Even the part about having to protect assholes like that deputy."
Valenti looked away, flushing. Of course she had to have heard that. "I...I guess I was angry, and said some things I shouldn't have," he allowed. "I'd appreciate it if you wouldn't repeat that."
"Repeat what?" she asked innocently.
"Right," Valenti said. "Thank you." God, she was quick. "Now....what I said—the other part, I mean—was absolutely true. Everyone in law enforcement has a responsibility to protect every American citizen—we don't get to pick and choose. We even have to protect people who break the law, like those boys did."
"What about people who aren't American citizens?"
Valenti's eyebrows rose. Was this going where he thought it was going? "I do believe that's another question, Miss Proctor. You said no twofers."
Her face clouded as she realized she'd been caught by her own rules. But only for a moment. "Okay. Your turn."
"The handyman you helped out at Chamber's Grocery back on the Fourth," Valenti said. "What happened that morning?"
He watched her carefully to see how she would react, but she never so much as blinked. "Not much," she answered casually. "I showed him the way downtown. Denny Miltnor and his gang tried to steal the food, and he stopped them. And then we went back to the store."
"And where did he go then?"
"I don't know. He just left with the food Mr. Chambers said he could have."
"Did he have a name?"
"Yup. James."
"James?"
"Uh-huh."
"James what?"
"Beats me. He just told me to call him James."
"And when he... 'stopped' Miltnor and the rest of them from pilfering from Mr. Chambers' truck, how did he do that?"
"He told them to stop, or he'd make them stop."
"That's it? He just 'told them' to stop?"
She thought a moment. "Yeah. That's it."
"So I take it you don't agree with the tales Miltnor's friends were telling about what this 'James' could do?"
"I don't know. What did they say he could do?"
Valenti paused, frustrated. This kid was slipperier than a member of the Mafia; she'd just keep repeating that she didn't know, and he had no way of proving otherwise. Time for some hardball.
"There's a funny thing about this 'James', Miss Proctor. The handyman who showed up on the Fourth was not the same handyman that Mr. and Mrs. Chambers had hired. That handyman never showed up. I have witnesses who place him in Santa Rita on the Fourth."
"So?"
"So who was the man who actually did show up at Chambers' on the Fourth?"
She shrugged indifferently. "How should I know? I don't know who Mr. Chambers hired or didn't hire. Ask him. I'm just a kid."
Like hell you are, Valenti thought sourly, realizing he'd hit another dead end. She hadn't betrayed so much as a flicker of emotion at anything he'd said, hadn't looked startled, or guilty, or worried. He'd met bona fide criminals who couldn't pull off a poker face like hers.
"Denny's friends say they saw you and your 'James' together at the carnival the night Denny was killed," Valenti said, watching her closely. "What do you know about that?"
"He wasn't 'my James'," she replied, returning his stare, "everyone in town was at the carnival, and that's another question, Deputy Valenti."
They stared at each other a moment, Valenti tapping his fingers on the steering wheel. He was on even shakier ground here, largely because she was right—just about everyone had been at that carnival, so the handyman's presence there was unremarkable. No one had seen her and Miltnor together, or Miltnor and the handyman together, so that avenue was closed too. Another dead end.
"Fair enough," Valenti said finally. "Your turn."
"Do you also have to protect people who aren't American citizens?"
Valenti eyed her a moment, suddenly realizing two things: She was heading exactly where he'd thought she was, and perhaps he'd been going about this all wrong. Perhaps the way to get information in this game was to let her ask questions instead of watching her run circles around his own.
"Well....that depends."
"On what?"
"On where they're from, what kind of relations their country has with ours, whether our laws are very different or not. Stuff like that. And they need papers that give them a legal right to be here."
"Why do they have to have papers?"
Valenti sighed. "Look, Miss Proctor.....the fact is, people just can't up and come to the United States. No matter how they get here." Her eyes narrowed slightly, but she didn't interrupt. "If someone isn't a U.S. citizen, they have to have permission from our government to be here. And if they don't have that permission, then they're here illegally, and I have an obligation to arrest them. It's that simple."
"Okay, so you have to arrest them. But can you hurt them?"
"No," Valenti admitted. "That's never allowed. Internationals may not enjoy all the rights we Americans do, but if they're on American soil, there are certain laws that apply."
"And what if someone else tried to hurt them? Would you have to protect them?"
Valenti stared out the front windshield, feeling her eyes boring into him, waiting for an answer. He already knew what the answer was, and he also knew he'd been effectively, systematically backed into the proverbial corner without her having given up a blessed thing. Perhaps a little candor was in order.
"It's my responsibility to protect every human within my jurisdiction, whether or not they are a citizen of this country," he said, swinging his gaze toward hers. Surely she'd react to that. She'd have to.
No such luck. "What if you saw someone hurting an animal?" she demanded. "What if those boys were beating a dog? Would you have to protect the dog?"
"Well.....yes, but that's because there are laws—"
"But you said human," she reminded him. "The dog isn't human. So it's not just humans you have to protect."
"That's not what I meant, and you know it!" Valenti protested.
Her eyebrows rose. "Really? What did you mean?"
Valenti stared at her a moment, then shook his head in disbelief. "Miss Proctor, you're way over your one question limit, aren't you?"
"Okay," she said, not bothering to argue the point. She'd gotten what she wanted—she'd maneuvered him into admitting he had obligations to more than just the human race, so she could afford to be magnanimous. "Your turn."
"What happened back there, with all the windows breaking and that bright light?"
She shrugged. "I don't know."
"You expect me to believe that?"
"I didn't see anything that would have broken the windows, and I have no idea what the light was. We were all on the floor with our eyes shut because it was so bright. No one else knows what happened either, so why would you think I would?"
"Here's the deal, Miss Proctor," Valenti sighed, tiring of the cat and mouse game. "Weird things happen when you're around. People get thrown against walls without anyone touching them, windows break, strange lights flare. You have to admit it's all very odd."
"You think I did all those things?"
"No. No, I don't. But I think you know who did. And I think you know why."
"Well, 'why' isn't hard to figure out."
"It isn't?"
She looked away, toward her house, and Valenti followed her gaze, his stomach flip-flopping when he saw Emily Proctor stick her head out the door and glance briefly left and right before withdrawing inside. If she saw them, she'd never believe her daughter had come to him willingly....and he apparently wasn't the only one who thought so. "Time's up," Emily's younger version announced. "You don't want my mother to find me out here with you." She climbed out of the car, shut the door, and closed it, staring in through the window.
"If the handyman hadn't done what he did, Mr. Chambers would have been robbed, and I might have gotten hurt. And what would have happened today without the windows and the light? You saw what those boys did to River Dog, and we were next. They were coming right for us when that light went off, as close to us as you are to me now. Think about it," she added seriously. "People could have gotten hurt....but they didn't."
And then she was gone, skipping up the sidewalk toward her house, her bookbag banging against her leg as she walked, while Valenti stared after her, remembering what Bill Chambers had told him about the one thing his "handyman" had said. "Well, it was odd, the way he put it. He said, 'I protect. That's what I do'."
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I'll post Chapter 43 next Sunday.
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