I heard the sound of tennis shoes squeaking.

“Turn around,” Dewayne Loach said. “Childress, I’m talking to you.”

 “The twins just left.” I faced Dewayne. “So what are you, the B-team?”

“Your friend, the Japanese kid. He wasn’t supposed to get hurt. I made the boys lay off after I recognized him.”

“You just confessed to a felony,” I said. “I’m calling the sheriff, and you’re going to jail.”

“Your word against mine, Childress. Like the cops would believe you anyhow. You think they don’t know what’s been going on?”

“Spare me.” Hoyt would never look the other way on an assault. Or would he? Maybe I didn’t know Hoyt as well as I thought I did. “She was Guatemalan.”

“Who?”

“The woman who died. Mrs. Vega. Turns out she wasn’t Mexican. She was from Guatemala.”

“What difference does that make?”

“The way I see it, if you’re going to let somebody die for being Mexican, you should at least make sure they’re from Mexico. Or do they all look alike to Eugene and you?”

Dewayne balled up a fist. He swung hard, and I ducked, but Dewayne wasn’t aiming for me.

His fist slammed into a locker and left a dent.

A trickle of blood ran between his fingers.

I decided to push my luck. “You say you’re sorry, Dewayne. Prove it. Come with me to the Sheriff’s office and tell him what your boys did to Luigi. Tell him about the boys terrorizing the Latinos.”

Dewayne shook his head. “You must want me in the graveyard, because that’s where I’d be if Eugene found out.”

“The sheriff can—“

“Eugene’s the only kin I got left. My whole family was firefighters. My granddaddy and daddy both died trying in the line of duty. There ain’t nothing like seeing the fire marshal’s white car pull into your driveway, instead of your daddy’s truck. You think you got it all figured out, Childress, but it ain’t so easy to be a hero.”

5

After my morning class, my cell rang. I answered, expecting it to be Cedar. I was disappointed when my grandfather’s voice came through the speaker.

“Meet me at the jail,” he said.

“Thought you were out of jail.”

“I’m going back for a visit.”

“I have a test at noon.”

“You studied for it?”

“For three hours.”

“Then meet me at the jail. It won’t take but a few minutes, and you’re the only one he’ll talk to.”

“Who?”

“Stumpy Meeks.”

Twenty minutes later, Abner led me to the visitors’ area of the county jail. There was a bank of windows, complete with dark green phones for talking to the prisoners. The prisoner in this case was Stumpy, who looked like he’d been put through the wringer.

As Abner pulled heavy metal chairs in front of the glass, I was stunned by how the man had changed. Stumpy had never been a model of good grooming. Now, he looked like a man who had gone feral and spent his time wallowing in the mud. His hair was thick and matted, his head caked with black dirt, and there were red welts on his forehead and neck. The blindingly orange inmate jumpsuit he wore didn’t help, either. Nor did the fact that it fit him like an oversized tent.

Abner yelled through a vent in the glass. “You look like death warmed over. Good god, man. Didn’t they bathe you?”

Stumpy blinked slowly. “Do I know you, old man?”

“He’s my grandfather, Abner Zickafoose. He’s here to help.”

Abner leaned down to the vent. “You got a lawyer yet? You didn’t talk to the cops, did you?”

“Sure, I did,” Stumpy said. “I told them to kiss my ass and get Mr. Childress here.”

“Why me?” I asked.

“Cause you’re the only one who believes I didn’t burn that house.”

“Of course, you didn’t.” Abner said. “Anybody with any sense would know that. The thing is, there’s not a lick of sense to be had in this county. So you need an attorney.”

“Like I got the money for a lawyer. Ain’t got two cents to my name.”

“The court will appoint one for you,” I said. “He can petition the court to lower your bail.”

“You actually believe that?” Stumpy laughed. “Shoot, they’re going to let me rot under the jail.”

It was hard to argue with a man wearing swamp mud for makeup. “At least give it a try.”

Abner took the phone. He spoke softly, so that the jailer couldn’t hear. “Why did you take the chemicals out of the school storeroom?”

Stumpy jerked slightly, and his mouth turned down. “How’d you know about that?”

“You just told me,” Abner said. “Got an answer to my question?”

“They’ll kill me.”

“Who?” I asked.

“Ain’t as stupid as I look. Folks like this, you don’t mess with.”

“That’s why you’ve been hiding out in the swamps?” Abner said. “You’re afraid?”

“You’d be afraid, too, old man.” He chewed on a piece of dead skin on his thumb. “Between you, me, and the wall, I got myself into a bad spot. To get out of it, I had to do this…thing. I had to take a few things from the storeroom and then leave them in the janitor’s closet for pick up. But that’s all.”

“Who picked up the chemicals?”

“You think I’m stupid?”

“Who asked you to steal them?”

“Y’know, now that I think about it,” Stumpy said, “maybe it’d be good idea if I was to stop talking.”

I took the phone from Abner. “Listen to me, Stumpy. We can help, but you have to help us prove you’re innocent.”

“That’s the problem. I ain’t innocent.” Stumpy signaled the jailer. “I’m guilty as sin.”

6

“That didn’t go as planned,” I told Abner as we walked down a long concrete corridor to the waiting area.

 “I wish he’d told us more about the chemicals,” Abner said. “That’s the key to solving this thing.”

I signed out at the jailer’s desk. “He’s just afraid. I would be too, if they were accusing me of arson.”

“The arson charge isn’t scaring him. He knows he’s not guilty. There’s something more going on here.”

The jailer buzzed the door, and we walked into the waiting room. “Don’t you think Hoyt is going to be pissed about you investigating?”

“What Hoyt doesn’t know won’t hurt him. He can arrest me again if he wants, but the charges won’t stick. He’s just trying to scare an old man.”

“But why? You’re helping him solve the case.”

“Some men,” Abner said, “don’t want to be helped.”

I tailed Abner out. “So, what leads do we follow now?”

“You interviewed that band teacher, right?”

“Not yet. Eugene Loach—”

“Loach. That name keeps coming up, doesn’t it?”

“Yes, Doc,” I said, “It does.”

“He’s got nothing to with this case, Boone. Leave him to the experts.”

“Whatever you say, Doc.”

But I had no intention of letting Abner throw me off the trail. Stumpy Meeks was counting on me. The chemicals stolen from the schools were all alkali metals. Highly reactive. Highly volatile. Very difficult to remove once they were handled. Easily discovered with spectra analysis. I had to get Eugene near a spectra analysis machine. Obviously, that wasn’t going to work. I needed a lord high substitute, something capable of identifying minute traces of alkali metals.

We reached the main entrance to the jail area. I opened the door for Abner again, and in walked a middle-aged woman wearing heavy sunglasses and a kerchief over her hair.

“Dr. K?” I said.

“Oh!” she said. “Boone! I didn’t see you there. Good heavens, what are you doing here?”

“Visiting Stumpy Meeks.”

“Stumpy? You mean Henry.” Her mouth pinched so tightly, her lips disappeared. “How, how do you know Henry?”

“We’re friends. Sort of. He asked me to come down. They’re trying to charge him with arson. He doesn’t have a lawyer.”

“He certainly does now.” Her shoulders drew back, and her spine straightened. “I’ve seen to it.”