“Somebody from out of town.”

“Yeah.”

And that didn’t help me a damn bit. Why would somebody randomly breeze into town and take a sudden interest in freaking me out? The answer: it wasn’t random, I was just too thick to know why. Okay, if I wanted to be a deputy so bad, then it was time to start thinking like one. Think smart. Okay, dipshit, what’s the only other thing of interest that’s happened? A dead Luke Jordan. So what’s the connection? You don’t know, do you, you dumb motherfucker?

Hell.

“You went quiet,” Molly whispered. “You okay?”

“I’m thinking.”

“Solve anything?”

“Thinking’s not my main strength.”

“Come get in bed.”

I went to the bed, stood at the edge. If I got in, I’d have a hell of a time getting out again. I wanted sleep. I wanted to stretch out next to Molly, pull that comforter over our heads and forget about everything else. But I wasn’t supposed to sleep here, and I for damn sure wasn’t supposed to wake up here.

She sat up, took my hand. “Come on.”

I shook my head. “Can’t do it. Oh, man, I want to, but I can’t.”

She let go of my hand, her fingers dragging across my crotch. I felt the spark of electricity, things stirring to life. “I bet I can change your mind.”

“Really, Molly. I’d better go. I have to find out what’s going on.”

Her hands worked my zipper, reached in and fished me out. I was semi-erect. She started fondling. It took a minute or so, but I managed another erection, found myself thrusting against her fist. I didn’t think there was anything left after the night I’d had, but the thought of getting inside Molly again made me dizzy. Her head leaned in, and I felt her hot breath as her mouth edged closer.

The banging fists on her bedroom door sent my heart into my throat. “Open this Goddamn door!” Roy.

Molly shoved me away. “The closet!” Her whisper was a frightened hiss.

I scooted to her closet, my erection wagging and deflating but not fast enough. I closed the door, saw the light leak underneath. Molly had gotten up, switched on the light, probably slipping into her robe. The banging on the door increased.

“Okay!” she yelled. “Two seconds.”

I heard the door creak open, the heavy slouch of Roy pushing his way in.

“What the fuck’s going on in here?” A booze slur in Roy’s voice.

“What do you mean?”

“You talking to somebody?”

“I was on the phone.”

“Who with?”

I lost track of the interrogation, realized my pecker was still dangling out of my fly. I reached to zip it up fast, caught the tip in the zipper.

I bit my lip to keep back a yelp, tears quickly filling my eyes. Oh, fucking shit! Felt like a hot match head on the end of my dick. I tried to work the zipper down slowly, sweat bubbling on my forehead and behind my ears. The argument between Molly and Roy was getting louder, but I tuned it out, still trying to work my zipper without ripping a hole in my dick.

There was a smear of warm blood on my fingers when I finally unjammed the skin from the zipper. I wanted to weep, but the blinding hot pain slowly subsided. I had to stop myself from moaning relief.

I heard “Goddamn little cunt” and the smack of skin on skin so loud it made me jump. Sounds of a struggle, grunting. I put my hand on the closet doorknob, hesitated, not quite ready to explain what I was doing in this underage girl’s closet. It was difficult to just stand there and listen, but I made myself be patient.

Then I heard Molly scream, “Leave me the fuck alone!” and storm out of the room.

Roy chased after her with, “Don’t turn your back on

me!”

I waited another moment, heard the muffled argument elsewhere in the house. I pushed the door open and headed for the window when I saw the coast was clear, bumped my shin on the way out. I tumbled down, sprawled in a pile on her yard. “Shit.”

I stood slowly, still a vague sting at the tip of my dick, my right shin throbbing.

I looked at the house, telling my body to turn around and go about the business of the night, but I knew I couldn’t do that. Molly had told me she’d caught her stepdad looking at her a bunch of times, and not a good kind of look. Sort of creepy and licking his lips, so Molly locked her door every night before bed. If I walked away, and anything happened to her, it would be my fault.

I went up the front steps, knocked, waited, knocked some more.

The porch light came on, and I heard the rattle of chains and locks and then the door opened. Roy stood swaying, looking at me with one eye closed. A cloud of bourbon almost knocked me back down the steps.

“What do you want?”

“Neighbors called in a domestic dispute. I need to know the trouble.”

“Shit.” Roy snorted. “I know you. I know why you’re here.”

“Been drinking tonight, sir?”

“Fuck you.”

“Roy, maybe you’d better spend the night with a friend so there’s no problem here after I leave. Grab somebody’s couch and sleep it off.”

Another snort. “You think I take that star on your chest seriously? You think anybody does?”

“This is serious police business, Roy.”

“Kiss my ass.” He started to close the door.

I shoved my leg in, pushed the door open again. “Hold

on.”

“Get your fucking hands off—”

He came at me, a sloppy leap, and I stepped aside. He stumbled down the porch steps, tried to turn and punch at me while he was falling and he ended up on his ass at the bottom. He winced, rubbed a bruised elbow.

“Settle down, Roy.”

“You little—you fucking—prick.” He heaved out the words between breaths, wheezing and red faced, made a grab at my pants.

I put a boot against his shoulder and kicked him back. He sprawled, looked straight up in the sky, still muttering curses. I didn’t feel like a hero picking on a drunk fat man twice my age, but I wasn’t broken up about it either. I wasn’t looking to defend Molly’s honor with some kind of a fair fight, and if Roy was too blitzed to hit back that was all right by me. Frankly, it felt good to dominate the situation for a change.

“You want me to call Chief Krueger? Maybe you’ll listen to him.”

Roy sighed out a groan.

“Maybe you’d take the chief more seriously. What do you say about that, Roy?”

He didn’t say anything.

“How about it? Get the chief on the horn?”

“Okay, I fucking get it,” Roy said. “I’ll go to Howard Boyle’s house. It’s only two blocks.”

“Hand over your keys.”

“Oh, now what the fuck for? Jesus.”

“I can’t have you sneaking back five minutes after I’m gone,” I told him. “You can pick up the keys at the station house in the morning.”

He fished the keys out of his pocket and tossed them to me.

I turned back to the house, the open front door. “Molly, you lock up after we leave.”

“Okay.” Her voice floated closer than expected from the dark innards of the house. I supposed she’d been listening the whole time.

“Come on, Roy. I’ll walk you.” I offered my hand.

He took it, and I pulled him up. He dusted himself off with clumsy ham hands. All the fight had gone out of him, and I think if I’d told him to lie down right there on the lawn and go to sleep he’d have done it. All I wanted was for him to get to sleep somewhere.

We walked in and out of dim blotches of street light on the way to Howard Boyle’s house. Roy smelled like booze and sweat. He put one foot in front of the other like he couldn’t believe he was alive, like sooner or later gravity would just say that’s enough of you and drag him right down.

“Her mother takes off, and I’m left to do everything. I mean, what the hell. I married her and she had a kid and all. I took her in. Both of them. Then Molly’s mother just fucking takes off. And now I got this girl on my hands like some kind of alien, the way she dresses and that freaky, dark-ass music she listens to.”