Set the Dark on Fire (25 page)

Remembering the look of wonder in Dylan’s eyes as he turned the knife in his hands, she now felt tears burn in her own. At the time, she’d been jealous of their easy male camaraderie. What she wouldn’t give now for a dozen more moments like that.

Damn you, Daddy. Why’d you leave?

“Any particular reason you were carrying this?” Luke asked.

Dylan rolled his shoulders and winced, straining against the uncomfortable position. “Let’s get real. You know what I did. I know what I did. You want me to sign something, fine. Take off these frigging cuffs and I’ll sign whatever you want me to.”

Luke’s brows rose. “You will?”

“No,” Shay said, fear twisting her insides. “He won’t sign anything. He doesn’t know what he’s talking about. Dylan—”

Her brother ignored her. “I’m guilty, okay? I used the knife to commit a crime and I’d do it again. I enjoyed it. And that stupid jock deserved it. I’d rather have blown up his engine, that would have been cool, or busted out the taillights—”

“Hang on,” Luke said, holding a hand up. “You would have busted out whose taillights?”

“Chad’s,” he said, looking at the faces around him in confusion. “That’s why you picked me up, right? Because I slashed his tires.”

Shay let out a slow, pent-up breath. She wanted to slide under the table and crumple into a little heap of relief.

“You slashed Chad Pinter’s tires,” Luke repeated, leaning back in his chair.

“Yeah. What’d you think? That I killed somebody?”

“This is crazy,” Garrett muttered, standing. “I can’t believe you’re buying this. The other day I caught him out on the rez with a backpack full of stuff to make pipe bombs. He’s a menace to society.”

Shay gasped. One glance at Dylan, whose face was pale with guilt, told her Garrett spoke the truth.

“Sit down, Garrett,” Luke returned, his tone mild but his eyes intense.

The CB radio at the deputy’s thick waist sounded, saving him from having to comply. It was the dispatch operator, phoning in a vandalism complaint from Chuck Pinter. After Garrett responded with a 10-4, the room fell into a charged silence.

“I’ll take care of it,” Luke said.

Garrett recognized the statement for what it was: a curt dismissal.

The deputy didn’t reply to the rebuke, but he was in many ways a devious man, a plotter rather than a protester. Shay knew Luke was going to have nothing but trouble from him for the rest of their working days.

With a stiff nod, Garrett tossed the keys to his handcuffs on the table and left.

Luke watched him go, contemplating Garrett’s perversity with narrowed eyes. Once the deputy was out of sight, Luke turned back to Dylan. “You saw him on Los Coyotes?”

“Yeah.”

“When?”

Dylan gulped. “Sunday. And that pipe bomb stuff was just an experiment. Like a science project. I wouldn’t use it to hurt anyone.”

Shay knew her little brother had issues, but she’d never imagined he would put his life in danger by messing around with homemade explosives.

“Did he hit you?” Luke asked.

Dylan rubbed the side of his mouth against the fabric of his T-shirt. “No. He tackled me from behind and the ground said hello to my face.”

“Has he ever hit you?”

When he paused, Shay wished a thousand miseries on Garrett Snell. “No,” he said, and she knew he was lying.

So did Luke, but he didn’t press further. Instead, he opened the evidence bag and let the knife slide out, unfolding the handle and examining the blade. He must have been satisfied with what he saw, because he stood and unlocked the cuffs at Dylan’s wrists. “I have to take that vandalism call,” he said, excusing himself.

“What the hell happened?” Dylan asked after Luke was out of earshot.

“Somebody scalped Bull Ryan.”

His face went white beneath the layers of grime, making the dried blood on his chin stand out in harsh relief. “Is he dead?”

“Yes.”

“Holy shit.”

If she’d had any doubts about her brother’s innocence, they were erased by the stunned expression he wore. Dylan often hid his feelings from her, and he wasn’t always honest, but there was no artifice in his reaction to Bull’s death.

She rose to her feet, grabbing a tiny plastic cup from the receptacle and filling it from the water cooler. “Here,” she said, and he downed it in one gulp.

“More?”

“Yeah.”

Shay was relieved that he hadn’t been involved in whatever had gone down on the construction site, and thankful that he seemed relatively unharmed, but she was still furious with him for making pipe bombs. And slashing Chad’s tires.

How could he pull such a lame-brained stunt? And why now, when he was so close to graduation?

Too angry to speak, she crossed her arms over her chest and waited for Luke to get off the phone. “The Pinters aren’t sure they want to press charges,” he said. “They’d like to meet us at the café to discuss the situation. I said I would mediate.”

Shay almost wilted with relief. She sent Luke a silent thank you, because she knew how lucky Dylan was to get a chance to make amends. “Are you going to confiscate that?” she asked, looking down at the knife on the table.

Luke hesitated. “I wouldn’t recommend he bring it to school again. If Chad’s car had been in the school parking lot, instead of across the street, your brother would be on his way to juvenile hall right now.”

Shay pocketed the knife. “What do you have to say for yourself?”

Dylan ran a hand along the line of his jaw, feeling for tenderness. “Good thing I wasn’t on school property?”

24

Shay fumed all the way to the Bighorn. Chad Pinter was a major pain in the ass, and she hated his parents, but she would make nice with them for Dylan’s sake.

The Pinters were already inside the café, chowing down on Betty’s after-school special: burger, shake, and fries. At least, Chad and his father were. They had their plates piled high with greasy goodies, while the missus picked at a leafy green salad.

Chuck Pinter was the full-time football coach and part-time Driver’s Ed teacher at Palomar High School. He had a take-charge attitude, ham-sized fists, and a burly physique. Marianne Pinter was pretty, petite, and very well preserved. Her slim jeans and tight T-shirt showed off her surgically enhanced chest and skinny legs to perfection.

They hadn’t met Luke before, so Chuck did the introductions. When Marianne placed her dainty hand in his, she gave him a thorough once-over and fluttered her lashes.

Shay gritted her teeth and smiled.

After everyone was seated, Luke glanced at Shay, letting the mediation begin.

“I’d like to start by apologizing,” Shay said. “I’m horrified by Dylan’s behavior.”

Marianne pursed her lips as if she’d just sucked on a lemon. Chad stared back at Shay with his usual half-lidded gaze, imagining God only knew what kind of disgusting sexual scenarios. Chuck merely grunted and took another bite of his burger.

“Dylan also has something to say,” Shay added.

Dylan placed a hand over his heart. “I am truly, deeply, madly sorry.”

Keeping her smile firm, Shay kicked him under the table. “I’ll pay for any damages. New tires, towing fees, the works.”

Marianne’s face puckered again. “I’m afraid that won’t be good enough,” she said, giving Luke a simpering glance. “Dylan won’t learn his lesson if you keep bailing him out, Shay. Surely you know that.”

Shay arched a brow. If Marianne Pinter wanted to play hardball with her, she was more than willing to engage. “What do you propose?”

Marianne lifted her snooty little nose in her husband’s direction. “He can work off what he owes us in our backyard. Chuck has plenty of digging and hauling to keep Dylan busy.”

Shay’s temper flared. She’d rather give what little cash she had to the Pinters than have her brother doing their dirty work. “Will Chad be doing yard work also?”

Marianne bristled. “Of course not. What’s he done?”

With his loud car, expensive clothes, and entitled attitude, Chad Pinter was the most spoiled kid in Tenaja Falls. “That’s what I’d like to know,” she said, turning toward her brother. “I don’t think Dylan slashed his tires on a whim.”

Dylan slouched down in his chair and looked away, refusing to offer an explanation for his actions.

“Perhaps he’s jealous,” Marianne said. “Chad
is
a star quarterback.”

“Dylan is a starting forward,” Shay shot back.

Marianne’s mouth curled up at the corner. “My son also has a loving family and a stable home life. Have you given Dylan that?”

Shay’s jaw dropped. She drew in a breath to tell Marianne where to go, but Dylan beat her to the punch.

“I’ll tell you what else Chad has that I don’t,” he said in a cool voice. “An extensive collection of adult movies, downloaded on that fancy new computer you bought him. He brings printouts of his favorite images to school.”

“Shut up,” Chad grated, gripping the edge of the table.

“Today he was circulating a picture of a porn star with my sister’s face superimposed over her head.” After brief consideration, he dug a wadded up piece of paper out of his pocket. “Check it out.”

Shay looked down at the image and gasped. “Why, you filthy little—”

When Luke put his hand on her shoulder, she bit off the word she was about to say. After a brief glance at the printout, he passed the page on to Chad’s father. “I’m fairly certain that bringing this kind of material to school is against the rules. It may even be illegal.”

“You have no proof that my son did this,” Marianne sputtered.

“Sure I do,” Dylan said. “I know the combination to his locker and the password for his laptop. I’m also familiar with the websites he frequents and the content he prefers.”

The Pinters were speechless, and Chad was seething, but Dylan wasn’t done. “It’s kind of obvious the lady in the picture isn’t Shay. You see, in addition to his bond age fetish, Chad collects photos of busty older women. Ladies who are built like you, Mrs. P.” He smiled at Marianne’s appalled expression. “It’s terribly Oedipal, don’t you think?”

Luke made a choking sound and reached for his glass of water.

While Chad stuttered excuses and Marianne turned red with humiliation, Chuck dug a few bills out of his wallet and threw them down on the table. “Just keep your brother away from my kid,” he said, pointing his finger at Shay. Clamping his hand around Marianne’s arm, he led her away, continuing to grumble as they went out the door. “Should have known the sheriff would side with her. She’ll probably thank him on her knees.”

Over his shoulder, Chad couldn’t resist making a crude gesture, thrusting his tongue against the side of his cheek.

Dylan shot to his feet, but Luke held him back.

“Assholes,” Shay muttered when they’d settled down in their seats again. They all looked at each other, and perhaps because the day had been so harrowing, the situation struck her as hilarious rather than sad. She started laughing, and once she started, she couldn’t stop. Dylan laughed along with her, and it must have been contagious, because even Luke joined in.

“I can’t believe you told Marianne Pinter her son had an Oedipus complex,” she gasped, wiping tears from her eyes.

“Too bad she doesn’t know what that means,” Dylan replied, and set them off again.

Her stress level had reached its breaking point, and the laughter relieved some of the tension that had been escalating all week. It also opened the door for another outpouring of emotion, and before Shay knew it, she was crying.

Not crying laughing. Crying period.

Dylan’s laughter trailed off and Luke cleared his throat, handing her a tissue. She took it and cried some more, hating that she was breaking down in front of them, the two people she wanted to be strong for, the ones she cared about most.

Pulling herself together, she blew her nose and took a long drink of water.

“Are you okay?” Luke asked, glancing down at her hand.

Her malady was general hysteria, not hemotoxic shock. “I’m fine,” she said, offering him a wobbly smile.

“Because I can take you back—”

“No.” She darted a nervous glance at Dylan. “Really.”

Her brother frowned at Luke. “Take her back where?”

Luke’s eyes bored into hers, letting her know that if she didn’t tell Dylan what happened, he would. “The hospital,” she said, sighing.

Dylan straightened in his chair. “What happened?”

“Someone left a snake at the preserve. I was careless in handling it.”

“What kind of snake?”

“A rattler.”

“You got bit by a rattlesnake?” he asked, raising his voice.

“It was more of a graze. No venom.”

“Jesus Christ! What the hell is wrong with you?”

“What the hell is wrong with you?” she returned, her insides quaking. “I don’t need you slashing tires to defend my honor. You could have been kicked out of school!”

Dylan leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms over his chest, reverting into sullen silence.

Shay felt so many conflicting emotions she couldn’t sort through them all. She was proud of her brother for standing up for her but disappointed in him for acting so rashly. As usual, she couldn’t prevent him from causing trouble.

“I have to go talk to Garrett,” Luke said after a moment. “Will you be all right for an hour or so until I get back?”

“Of course,” she murmured. “Be careful.”

“I will,” he promised, rising from his chair and giving her a quick peck on the cheek before he went out the door.

The way he’d said good-bye was so offhand, and felt so natural, that the implications of his actions didn’t sink in right away. If Dylan hadn’t been staring at her like she’d grown three heads, she might not have realized that she and Luke had just acted like a couple.

She lifted a hand to her cheek, feeling it grow warm. “What?”

“You’re in love with the sheriff,” he said, awestruck.

“Not even,” she lied.

The corner of his mouth tipped up. “Well, he’s in love with you.”

That was a far more outrageous notion, and one she didn’t have the heart to protest. The idea was too painful, and it made the empty place inside her ache to be filled.

Betty appeared beside her with a carafe, ready to fill something else. “Coffee?”

“No thanks,” Shay said, covering the rim of her mug. The small red mark on the edge of her thumb was clearly visible under the fluorescent lights.

“What happened there?”

“Nothing.” She drew her hand back self-consciously. To take the attention away from herself, she nodded at Betty, who had her forearm wrapped in gauze. Shay had noticed the bandage a few days ago. “How about you?”

“Just a cat scratch,” she replied, winking at Dylan. “What’ll you have?”

Her brother asked for a burger with the works and a chocolate shake. Shay’s appetite was off, for once in her life, so she requested a small order of fries.

“Coming right up,” Betty said, whisking away their menus.

Shay picked at her napkin, considering what to say next. They hadn’t talked about their parents in longer than she could remember. He always changed the subject. “I know you miss Mom and Dad,” she began. “I miss them, too. That hunting knife—”

“You don’t know anything,” he said, his face darkening with anger.

She threw up her hands in frustration. “Then talk to me! How am I supposed to understand if you won’t let me in?”

He looked down at the table, avoiding her eyes.

“I don’t know what to do with you,” she said, feeling as inadequate as ever. “I can’t stop you from getting angry, and I can’t keep you from being self-destructive. I’ve tried to do right by you, but I don’t know where else to turn. I don’t know anything about being a proper guardian.” She leaned toward him, her voice strained. “I’m not your mother, damn it!”

His head jerked up. “You’re not my mother,” he repeated, studying her face. “Who took care of me when I was little?”

Shay stared back at him in silence, feeling her throat tighten.

“Who walked me to the bus stop? Who cooked me dinner? Who tucked me in at night?”

Tears welled in her eyes. She hadn’t known he remembered.

“I didn’t give a damn when Dad left, because I never counted on him,” he continued. “He was useless most of the time. I knew better than to expect him to stay. And as for Mom … I never knew her at all.”

“Oh, Dylan,” she whispered, blinking the tears from her eyes.

“The person I counted on was you. As far as I was concerned, you were my mother. I was never mad at them for leaving. They weren’t worth it. I was mad at you.”

Her heart felt like it was being wrenched from her chest. She pressed a fist to the front of her T-shirt, trying to alleviate the pressure. “You know I had to go to college.”

“You left in spirit way before that. Running wild with your loser boyfriend. Sure, you came back to Tenaja Falls, and now you support us financially. But you haven’t really been home since Mom killed herself.”

The instant the words left his mouth, she knew he was right. She’d been so concerned with maintaining the status quo and ensuring his continued success in school, she’d completely forgotten how to relate to him as a human being.

She hadn’t been a mother
or
a sister; she’d been an emotional wasteland.

“I’m sorry,” she said, stunned by the realization. “I don’t know what to say. Except that you’re right. I’m such a screwup.”

His expression softened. “No, you’re not. Mom and Dad were screwups.”

“They loved you.”

He shrugged, not bothering to contradict her.

Tears filled her eyes again. “I love you.”

“I know,” he said, smiling a little. He might have said more, but Betty brought their plates, interrupting the sentimental moment. When forced to decide between making sappy remarks and chowing down on a loaded burger, Dylan made the predictable choice and dug in with his trademark gusto.

Nevertheless, she was pleased with the direction of the conversation. She hadn’t felt this close to her brother in ages. A warm contentment came over her, tempered only slightly by her confusion about her feelings for Luke and a bone-deep weariness.

“I’ll try to do better,” she said, nibbling on a french fry. “Be home more.”

“You do okay,” he allowed, taking another huge bite.

Her lips curved as she studied him from across the table. For the first time, her brother looked more like a man than a boy to her, and the sight unsettled her. With his dark blond hair and intense blue eyes, he was the spitting image of their father. And even with blood on his face and a torn T-shirt, he was handsome.

She should be thankful he’d never had any luck with girls.

On the heels of that thought, Angel’s father, Fernando Martinez, parked his truck outside the café. Dylan went very still, as if expecting some kind of confrontation, but Fernando merely waved hello as he came through the front door. While he waited for Betty at the register, he took a handkerchief out of his back pocket and wiped his lined forehead. As usual, he looked tired.