Sunken Graves Alan Lee (reading e books .txt) 📖

the receiver and smacked the bolt catch, loading a round. He let the barrel rest on its grip pod and he pushed the selector lever with his thumb.

Jennings had seen action twice with the Green Berets. The chatter of opposing assault rifles would never leave him.

He worked through two magazines, semi-auto. Forcing himself to glare down the Aimpoint dot scope and punch holes in the target. A painful exercise but he needed it. Needed to bear down on the parts of himself he didn’t enjoy. Like learning to run with a new gait—pretending it never happened would make it worse. During the second magazine he forsook the bipod stability for a fighting stance modified to his artificial strong-side leg. His grouping widened but he stayed on target.

He cleared the rifle and pointed the barrel up. Metal shells glinted dully on the floor.

Jennings felt better. Like processing pain in therapy. He hadn’t enjoyed his time with the Army but it was inside him now, threatening to fester if ignored.

A part of his brain noted the silhouetted target he’d obliterated was smaller than Peter Lynch.

Yeah, I could kill him. If I had to.

Jennings packed but didn’t immediately drive away from the shooting range lot. He sat in the cab and surfed on his phone, his thumb moving without permission.

Peter Lynch’s step-daughter Kelly Carson had moved from Roanoke to Philadelphia three years ago. Jennings found several Kelly Carson accounts on Facebook and he matched the photograph.

The Kelly Carson he wanted owned a business page advertising a dog-walking service in the Washington Square West neighborhood of Philadelphia. At the bottom of the page Kelly offered professional pet portraits.

Kelly looked too thin, like she consumed cigarettes instead of calories. A dragon tattoo wound circles down her arm, ending at her wrist. Beneath the heavy makeup and the hard edge was a young woman who could be stunning with little effort.

Sitting in his truck, Jennings dialed the number listed on the page. He didn’t think about it; the phone call happened on its own. The ringing sounded like an alarm.

Bad idea. A really bad idea. What am I doing. This isn’t my fight.

At the bottom on her webpage, he read a note.

*Sorry but I’m only working with clients who don’t identify as male at the moment. A personal choice as I recover from PTSD issues! Thanks!

A woman’s voice answered, “Hi, this is Kelly!” and he disconnected the call.

Jennings punched his steering wheel with the heel of his right hand. Stupid. Stupid stupid.

She’d moved to get away from Peter Lynch and she sure as hell wouldn’t want me dropping the guy in her lap again.

Jennings’ phone vibrated. Kelly Carson calling back.

Helet it ring, hating himself and his ugly mistake. He could send it to voicemail but then she’d have his name without his story or reason for calling.

He closed his eyes and answered.

“Hi, this is Dan.”

“It’s Kelly Carson. We got cut off?”

“Yeah I hung up too late. I’m sorry about that. I, ah, I noticed at the bottom of your page you aren’t working with men, so… Maybe pretend I didn’t call?”

“Bullshit, Dan.”

“No, really, I—”

“You’re calling from a Roanoke number.”

Jennings winced. “I am.”

“This better not be Peter.”

“No. No, this isn’t Peter. My name’s Dan Jennings.”

“This is about Peter Lynch, isn’t it. Calls from Roanoke are always about Peter.”

Jennings couldn’t find words quick enough.

Into the pause she said, “I fucking knew it.”

“Ms. Carson, I teach at the school Benji goes to. I was calling about Peter but I regretted it as soon as I dialed. My issues shouldn’t be foisted on you and I apologize."

“You teach at the Academy.”

“I do.”

“And you realized you shouldn’t be bothering me, Dan, is that right?”

“That’s right. I’m sure you’ve been through enough.”

“Well that’s the first decent thing anybody’s said to me in a long time.”

He winced. Again he couldn’t find words.

“You teach Benji?”

Alone, Jennings nodded. “I do.”

“He’s in, what, the tenth grade now?”

“Eleventh. He’s a junior.”

“Is he okay?”

“I hope so. I’m worried about him.”

“You said you’re who? Dan…what?”

“Dan Jennings.”

“Imma call you back, Dan Jennings.”

The line clicked off.

“Shoot,” he said. “Such a bad idea. So misguided, Jennings.”

He gunned the Tacoma’s engine and left the firing range’s parking lot, hoping she wouldn’t call back.

But she did five minutes later. He pulled to the side of Brambleton and answered.

“Okay, Daniel Jennings, history teacher at the Academy. You check out. My source says you’re tall, you’ve got muscles, all your hair, and you’re good looking. How nice to be born with every advantage imaginable. What do you want?”

“I’m not sure. I’m…lost.”

“You said Benji’s okay? I like that little punk. More than his brother, at least.”

“Not so little anymore,” said Jennings.

“I haven’t seen Benji in a few years. Is he getting hairy?”

“I think his father beats him.”

“For sure. Makes them a man, Peter says. But I can’t help with it. Give Child Protective Services a ring, but they did nothing last time, not a damn thing.”

“Ms. Carson, I don’t want to dredge up your past, but…I’m worried about his daughter.”

“Eh. I’m not. She’s an entitled shit. But that’s not the point, is it. Peter isn’t, like, what’s the word, he isn’t incestuous. He’s violent, that’s his deal. He has an uncontrollable temper. When he’d hurt me, it was punishment, not sexual. He’d get pathetic women for sex.”

Jennings felt the words like a wave of nausea.

“Ah, Dan, shit, never mind. Pretend I didn’t say that.”

“Why…” He cleared his throat, searching for a voice. “Why not?”

“I can’t talk about it.”

“Because of documents you signed? He could come after you financially.”

“I’m not going to answer that, Dan. But take my lack of response for your answer.”

“You’re worried I’m recording this.”

“No comment. Just in case. But tell me this. What big crime do you think he committed? Forget about me for a sec. Is there something else?”

Cars raced by on Brambleton fast enough for the slipstream to rock his truck.

Kelly Carson seemed talky for a woman who didn’t want to say anything. Like she was leading him to an