Kealan Burke - Kin

“Trespassin’s what she’s doin’, Pete,” McKindrey said, but to the boy’s relief, didn’t make a move. “Now I been sent out here to get her by her sister, who wants her home. She’s been through enough without makin’ it worse for herself and worryin’ everybody else.”

“We didn’t want to make it worse,” Pete told him. “We just had to come back. Couldn’t just let things die the way they did. Nobody knows the truth and I reckon they need to know. And I figure Claire’s come back to close the door on some of that bad stuff. I guess once we’re done, you probably won’t never see her again.”

“That would suit me,” McKindrey said. “Goddamn town has enough trouble without folks who was lucky enough to get free of it comin’ back to stir up more.” He glanced briefly down at his foot, which was wrapped in bandages and shreds of an old shirt, and shook his head. “Now you know I’m real sorry about what happened to your Pa, but you’ve gotta accept the fact that he weren’t a happy man. He took his own life, son, and that’s the truth of it right there. Whatever happened with those kids and that doctor, or whoever done it to them, it doesn’t involve you and you shouldn’t be stuck in the middle of it.”

“But Claire said—”

McKindrey raised a hand. “It don’t concern me what Claire said. Whatever happened to her messed her up real bad and I reckon, between you and me, that she probably ain’t been right since. Probably convinced herself that some family she saw passin’ by her on the road were the ones that did this to her. It happens, you know. Mind has a funny way of makin’ up for lost memory. Happened to my own stepbrother Willard. He went out harvestin’ corn, got drunk and fell over, hit his head on a rock. Swore up and down it was the scarecrow had thumped him upside the head. Still believes it too.”

“It ain’t like that, Sheriff.”

The Sheriff frowned. “How the hell do you know what it is or ain’t, son? Were you there when whatever happened to that girl happened?”

“No,” Pete admitted.

“So how do you know who done what?”

“She told me.”

“Don’t matter what she told you if her mind’s half-gone now does it?”

Pete shrugged.

“Hell boy, if I told you a bear chewed on my foot would you believe it?”

“I guess so.”

“Why?”

“Because… you’re the Sheriff.”

“And you figure I wouldn’t lie to you.”

“Sure.”

“You believe everythin’ that girl tells you because maybe you got your eye on her, am I right?”

Pete felt his cheeks grow warm. “I dunno.”

“Yeah,” McKindrey said with a grin. “That’s it all right. She could tell you the sky’s green and the grass’s blue and you’d believe it if you thought she were gonna let you into that sweet pink paradise of hers.”

“What does that mean?”

“Never mind. It don’t matter. What does matter, son, is somethin’ you may not be aware of.”

“What?”

“Her sister thinks you kidnapped Claire.”

Pete’s mouth dropped open. “No… She asked me to take her here, I swear it!”

McKindrey hushed him. “I believe you. I do. But a whole lotta folks won’t, and the longer you stay down here foolin’ around, the deeper the shit you’re in’s gonna get.”

“I wouldn’t kidnap no one.”

“Course you wouldn’t, but folks’ll suspect you’re sweet on that girl, and they’ll know she ain’t right in the head, so they’ll reckon you told her to come down here so you could have her to yourself.”

“That ain’t how it is.”

“But that’s what they’ll say. They’ll ask themselves why a rich white Northern gal like that would come all the way down here with a poor young buck like you, and they’ll come up with all sorts of awful notions. Then you’ll be the bad guy.”

“Claire’ll—”

McKindrey limped away from the car and put his hands on the boy’s shoulders. Like a lame dog, he kept his wounded foot slightly raised. “Listen,” he said in a quiet voice. “Claire won’t do shit for you when you need it. You need to forget about her before she hangs you out to dry. See, the folks who done this to her are long gone, way out of her reach, so she needs to punish someone. That’s why she’s here. She can’t stand the fact that no one’s gonna swing for what they did to her, so she’ll maybe lead you inside that house, let you fuck her, then she’ll cry rape and claim you tried to kill her just like you did before.”

Alarmed, Pete shook his head. “Sheriff…I took care of her. I drove her to the hospital.”

“Sure you did. And she’ll say you did it out of guilt for what you did to her after killin’ her friends and havin’ your way with her. She’ll say she was confused, thought someone else did it, but when she saw you at her house it all came back to her. Then she’ll say you dragged her into your truck and brought her back here.” He shook his head in sadness. “And who’s gonna say otherwise? Wellman might have backed you up, but he’s dead. Your Pa too. Who else is gonna prove what you say is the truth?”

No , Pete told himself. You don’t know Claire. She wouldn’t do that to me . But as he had already realized earlier, though he had committed himself to the task of protecting her, at the back of it all, he didn’t know her at all, and hadn’t liked what he seen since arriving at her house. She was cold, and weren’t cold people capable of the kinds of things McKindrey was suggesting now? Nevertheless it seemed impossible that he could be so completely wrong about someone. But why would McKindrey lie?

His head hurt from the strain of trying to make sense of it. He was torn between the desire to stay and look after Claire, all in the hope that she would show her appreciation for his efforts, and heeding the Sheriff’s advice to avoid the kind of nightmare the man had detailed for him as the most likely reward for his loyalty.

“What do I do?” he asked.

McKindrey nodded as if Pete had answered a math problem correctly. “You get goin’,” he said. “They’re only interested in the girl, not you, unless you give them reason to be. Head back into town and wait for me in my office. Stella’s there, she’ll make you a nice cup of somethin’.”

“What are you goin’ to do?”

The Sheriff sighed and put his hands on his hips. “Talk to her, I expect. See if I can get her to come with me without makin’ things hard. We need to get her back to her people.”

“Why can’t I wait and get a ride from you?”

“Because I don’t want you around if she decides to make up another one of her stories. Least if you’re with Stella, she can vouch for you, you know?”

Pete shook his head.

“She can say you were there and not here,” McKindrey explained.

“You ain’t gonna hurt her, are you?”

“No,” McKindrey told him. “Not even a little bit.”

Breath trapped in her throat, a hand over her nose to keep the foul stench away, Claire stood by the grime-encrusted window, listening. She hadn’t been able to make out what the Sheriff had said to Pete, but whatever it was, it proved enough to convince him that he was better off leaving her. She watched, incredulous, as the boy cast one final longing glance back at the house and started down the path toward the road, and the truck. McKindrey, looking like every hillbilly sheriff she’d ever seen on TV, stood with his hat tipped back away from his forehead, fists clenched on his hips, monitoring the boy’s progress. All he was short was some chaw. She could clearly imagine him leaning over and spitting a great gob of tobacco juice into the dirt.