Page 42 of Justice for Samara

“I’d invite you to go straight to SheriffCarter Melton and tell him that. He’ll tell you to stick it up your ass. Don’t believe me?” Michael pointed toward town. “You can drive right on into town and ask him. Even with your limited intelligence, I believe you could find him. It’s a building with a whole bunch of cars like mine sitting out front.”

“I should just punch you in the face,” Alex spat.

Michael never flinched. “Fuck yeah. I wish you would. Nothing would make me happier than to see her put you in cuffs.”

Alex pointed his finger into Michael’s face, then turned and glared at Samara. “This is not over.”

Samara gave him the wickedest smile she could muster. “No, sir. It’s not. There’ll be a full investigation. You can count on that.”

He finally stepped back and turned to storm across the yard to his truck, but halfway across, he turned and looked back at Samara. She hated that fucker.

A voice brought her out of her thoughts. “Babe, you okay?”

She hung her head, then lifted it again. “Yeah, yeah. I’m fine. Asshole. In a way, I hope thatisher and we can destroy him.”

“That makes two of us. Here. You probably need this by now.” He handed her the coffee and by the time she’d taken two sips, he was sitting on the front porch, so she sat down beside him. The yogurt he’d brought to her was vanilla, and she knew he’d figured that would be a safe flavor. She took the plastic spoon he gave her and ripped the top off.

After what might very well have been the best evening of her life, it had turned out to be the start of a very, very interesting day.

* * *

Michael stoodin front of Carter’s desk, trying hard not to fidget. “Can you go to lunch with me? Us? We need to talk to you about something.”

“If it’s employees dating, I think I’ve already?”

“No. That’s not it. It’s something far more personal, and I really think you need to hear it.”

“Just close the door and?”

He shook his head. “No, sir. We can’t take the risk of anyone hearing this. No one. It can’t get out. Period.”

Carter stared at him for a few seconds before he spoke, and the furrows in his forehead softened. “Oh, what the hell. Might as well. How ’bout… How ’bout you pick up something and the three of us can meet over at the park. It’s quiet over there and I doubt there’ll be anybody there.”

“Okay. When?”

“Uhh, lunchtime?”

“So noon?”

“That is lunchtime.”

“Not for everybody, sir.”

“Yeah, noon. I’ll see you over there.”

“Okay.”

“How’s it going over at the fire?”

“I’ll let Samara bring you up to date on that.”

“Okay. Fair enough. Lunch it is. And don’t bring me anything that’ll give me heartburn.”

Michael chuckled. “Sharla says even water does that.”

“I swear to god, I’m going to have an ulcer from this job at the rate I’m going.”

Michael almost sighed. If that was the case, then what they had to tell him was going to send him right into a hemorrhage. “I hope not.”