"And Harry? What if he saw something? If he speaks he could at least help us to clarify some things, after all on his bike and on the fishing rod there was the same dust."
James thought about his son's strange behavior and frowned.
"In this story, he must not get involved, whatever happened to him I want you to forget as soon as possible," he said.
"But there must be a connection! And then, honestly, I can't understand how he could not have suffered the deadly effects of contact with that stuff."
"Listen," he countered, changing his expression, "if there was a connection I don't know and I don't want to know.
I'm glad that despite behaving a little strangely, Harry is fine, and I just want him to quickly forget that experience. And then, even if we involve him and someone decides to set up an inquiry, the sheriff's son with Down syndrome would certainly not be a reliable witness. I repeat, I think the best thing is to pretend that nothing has ever happened."
"And what do we do with the people of the country?"
"Apparently no one saw or heard anything, so nobody knows exactly what happened. Soon the Festival will begin and everyone will think only and only about that, they are all waiting for the hordes of tourists that will arrive to make up for the economic damages produced by the hurricane Sandra. We will all forget this much sooner than you think."
"Yes, but there are always a few meddlings around."
"We will release a version, it will be enough to say that the case was not ours and that we passed it to another jurisdiction along with all the evidence."
"And old Bob?"
"Proud as he is, he will certainly not go around telling what happened to him, he doesn't want to look like a fool."
"What about the guys?"
"If they don't want to lose their jobs, they'll do better to don't say a word, if feds get here, the whole county police force would be wiped out and replaced within five minutes."
Helen wondered for a long time, tormenting the finger that in the meantime had removed the bandage, to make the skin breathe a little and allow the blood to circulate better. She gave a little more scratching and a small piece of the last fingertip, now completely lifeless, broke away and fell to the ground without causing her any pain. James heard the faint noise produced by the little piece that touched the floor and looked at her with his eyes wide open, on the other hand, she spoke again as if she was completely indifferent to that fact as if losing pieces was the most normal thing in the world.
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