C. Box - The Highway

She shook her head, but was both scared and a little thrilled to hear what he’d say.

“Somebody’s got to defend innocent people,” he said. “They need a dark angel. The deck is stacked against them, too. All those good citizens out there just want to raise their families, go to work, go to church, and keep their heads down. They don’t give a shit about county politics or political correctness or who’s running for sheriff or the sheriff’s fucking diversity program. They just want to live their lives. Somebody’s got to step up and protect them, you know? And who is tougher on bad guys than me?

“Look,” Cody said, “B. G. did it. The two of them are big-time growers fighting for market share. I know these people because I grew up with them. I went to school with B. G., and he’s been a dirtbag in training from the minute he was born. B. G. went to Tokely’s house on some pretext and shot Tokely with Tokely’s gun, then made it look like a suicide. He murdered a man. We’re supposed to be against that. And I don’t give a shit about Roger Tokely, either. He was a reprobate just like B. G. But if we leave B. G. out on the street, look what we’ve done. We’ve allowed him to continue to beat the shit out of his wife and kids for years and they’ll never turn against him because he’s got them under his thumb. Worst of all we’ve showed him he can beat us. So the next time he gets high, maybe it’s one of those innocents out there who gets it. Maybe it’s your mom, or your kid, or my son. B. G.’s a typical douche bag. He’s been getting away with crap for years. He’s human shit and I just want to flush him away.”

She flinched when he suddenly reached back, but instead of the weapon he slapped his wallet on the table and opened it.

“This is Justin,” he said, jabbing his finger on a photo of a strapping, smiling teenager in a football uniform. “He’s just a great kid. He’s smart, he’s kind. He’s empathetic in a way I just look at and wonder where the hell it came from. I still can’t believe he’s my son, because all that bad Hoyt blood must have ended with me somehow. But I look at this kid, Cassie, and I say to myself I will never let him get hurt by some dirtbag like B. G. So B. G. has to go, simple as that.”

She looked up and was surprised to see the softness in his eyes.

“All I was doing in that cabin,” Cody said, “was spreading some bread crumbs around that would lead to other evidence. Now the techs are motivated, they’ll find more and more to place B. G. in that house. By the time they’ve got enough to arrest B. G. we might not even need to use the trash I put in his garbage can. The stuff I did wasn’t enough to railroad B. G.-but it was enough to get everyone looking in his direction. That’s all I wanted, was to put the spotlight on him. And that’s sometimes how you have to work it so the right scumbags go to prison.”

“But it isn’t ethical,” she said.

He laughed. “No, it isn’t. Which is why I did it myself and didn’t try to involve you. You’ve still got ethics, or so you think.”

“I didn’t want to believe you’d do something like that,” she said. “I felt if I followed you I’d be able to prove to Tubman you were clean.”

“You felt wrong,” Cody said. “You,” he said, jabbing his finger toward her, “let yourself get used. He used you to get me. And you just happily went along with it until you realized what you’d done. Now you come in here for what? Forgiveness? You want me to pat you on the head and tell you what a good girl you are? You want me to tell you thanks for saving me from myself? Is that what you want?”

She shook her head.

“The problem with people your age,” he said, “is you never understood the difference between thinking and feeling, and to you feeling is more important, which is bullshit. You felt like you were doing the right thing, so you did it. You felt that it was probably okay to screw your partner because your boss told you to do it. You felt like all you needed to do was come in here tonight and I’d see how genuine your all-important feelings truly are and I’d say, ‘It’s okay, Cassie. You meant well. All is forgiven, Cassie.’”

She felt like he’d slapped her repeatedly. She tried to blink away tears that were ready to burst behind her nose and inside her eyes.

“Well,” Cody said, reaching out for the shot glass and then recoiling as if the glass of bourbon stung him, “you’re not forgiven. And I feel like I’m going to get hammered tonight. Care to join me?”

“No,” she said.

“Then goodbye, and don’t let the door hit you on the ass on your way out.”

“Please, Cody,” she said, “Don’t do this. Don’t hurt yourself. Think of Jenny and Justin and all you’ve built up.”

“This is it for me,” he said. “I had a nice run but this is the end of the trail. When I got kicked out of Denver I thought I’d never get another gig in law enforcement. The only reason I wound up back here where I grew up was because Tubman thought I had the goods on him. Now he’s got worse on me. And he’ll make damned sure I never get another law enforcement job in Montana or anywhere else.”

With that, he suddenly tossed back the shot and chased it with half the pint of beer. She watched with fascination and horror as his eyes glistened and he smiled manically.

“Damn,” he said, “that was good. I miss this. And I want another one.”

“Cody…” she said.

He dismissed her and signaled for another round. Then he arched his eyebrows and said, “Leave or stay, I don’t care. But if you stay, things might get ugly.”

She watched as he downed the rest of the beer in time for the bartender to deliver another round. A second glass of wine appeared as well. Cody took the shot glass from the bartender’s hand before he could set it on the table-and downed it.

“Keep ’em coming,” Cody ordered.

Then to her: “Don’t get me wrong. I admire your guts coming here tonight. That shows me something. But I’ve got a question for you.”

“What?”

“Who is going to protect these people now?” he asked. “You?” He said it with incredulity.

She felt her face flush hot again, and she sipped the glass of wine for something to do.

“Cody,” she said, reaching out and putting her hand on his arm. He looked down at it suspiciously. “What do you have on Tubman?”

Cody froze for a moment. Then, that evil grin she both loved and hated stretched slowly across his face.

6:32 P.M., Tuesday, November 20

It was only minutes but it felt much longer as the headlights of the black truck retreated behind them. As they reached the top of the hill, Danielle kept the pedal floored, prepared to shoot down the other side. They’d played enough mountain yo-yo with big trucks on the drive north that day Gracie didn’t mind that her sister wouldn’t slow down and let the momentum of the black truck catch up with them.

Gracie’s stomach hurt. Seeing that truck grille so close to the car had unhinged her. Passing the truck with her sister screaming insults had unhinged her in a way she couldn’t explain.

She hated her sister for putting them in this situation and hated herself even more for going along with it. Cars, trucks, big lonely highways at night were serious . Steel and speed and pavement and weather didn’t give a couple of teenagers a pass. This was the real world and Gracie wasn’t sure she liked it. Danielle didn’t seem to notice because she lived, as she claimed, on “Planet Danielle.” But Gracie couldn’t live there, even though it was probably more fun.

Danielle was texting furiously on her phone. “I told Justin what happened,” she said. “He said to me, ‘Good driving back there.’”