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

of it. I hope to make a name for myself fighting against him. Mack told me about Peter Lynch accosting a woman in the backseat of his car before Thanksgiving. Is this related?”

“Yes. I think Peter Lynch is a sadistic sociopath and a killer.”

Dixon leaned back. “Well damn, Mr. Jennings.”

“Daniel.”

“Did the man outside inform you of the charges?”

“No. Just my rights.”

Dixon rolled his eyes. “Absolute amateurs. You’re charged with trespassing—”

“That part’s true.”

“Keep that to yourself. And assault—”

“He attacked me. But I retaliated with extreme prejudice,” said Jennings.

“Lynch was taken to the hospital too, they tell me.”

“Good.”

“Not good for your case. What were you doing there, Daniel?”

“Looking for buried bodies.”

Dixon sniffed. “Find any?”

“I think so.”

“For real?”

“Yep,” said Jennings.

“In Peter Lynch’s yard? Are you serious?”

“I’ve been looking for proof and I think I got it.”

“Wow, Daniel. I mean, wow. That could really get our names in the papers.”

“I don’t care about that.”

“Okay. Yeah, okay. We’ll come back to that, my man,” said Dixon. Jennings saw a feverish light in the man’s eyes and he wondered if that was good or dangerous. “Right now we’re focused on your arrest. Police found cocaine in your truck. Tell me about that.”

Jennings jerked at the handcuff. “What?”

“An ounce of coke on the passenger seat.”

“You’re kidding. On the passenger seat?”

“That’s right.”

“No. No way. Check my blood, I’m clean. Never done cocaine in my life.” Jennings sat up straighter. “Lynch put it there. Or Gibbs or someone in the good ol’ boys club. That’s such bull.”

“Does sound weird, blow lying in plain sight.”

“It’s a setup. Do you understand how ridiculous this is? Lynch is a master in the courtroom, and he’s connected with the corrupt chief of police, and his brother’s a judge. We’re screwed no matter what we do. They can plant cocaine and not worry about repercussions. You see why I was looking for bodies?” said Jennings.

“You saw the bodies?”

“Grave sites. Depressions in a field. ”

“Aight, man, we’ll figure this out. No way we’ll be in front of Peter Lynch’s brother. Judge Lynch will have to recuse himself.”

“Cocaine possession is a felony?”

“Yeah but listen—”

“My mom will die.”

“—you don’t say a thing to what’s-his-name outside. He’ll put you in the back of his car and we’ll go before the magistrate. We’ll skip the arraignment and you’ll be held without bond until I talk to the commonwealth's attorney. You understand all that?”

Jennings finished sipping from the straw. “Not a word.”

“That’s fine. You don’t even have to trust me. But I’ll get you through this. Be a pleasure to screw over Gibbs and his goons. Especially if there’s bodies in Lynch’s backyard, boy. We act fast, maybe you’re home by dinner. First things first—you should shower. I never seen so much dirt.”

The police department in Salem.

Goodwin let Jennings move around without handcuffs so he could operate crutches provided by the hospital— Jennings tried to ignore the awful void below his knee. The mangled prosthesis sat in Dixon’s car trunk.

Goodwin took Jennings before the magistrate. The officer charged him with 55.1-2803, 18.2–248, and 18.2-57—trespassing, cocaine possession, and assault and battery. The magistrate ordered Jennings held without bond because of the felonious severity. An inner reservoir of goodness, a belief that things will work out, kept Jennings from despairing as he listened.

“I’m going to jail?” he asked Dixon. “Like, into jail?”

“Yeah, but stay strong, my man. Won’t be long.”

Had Jennings known he’d be in jail, he’d have prepared lesson plans for his substitute teacher. A funny thought.

Jennings walked on the crutches deeper into the jail to be processed. Dixon talking into his ear, “You have no priors, you’re an upstanding citizen, you have a good job teaching, you’re no danger to yourself or the community, you’re no flight risk. I already placed a call to the commonwealth and I’m headed to see him now. We should work something out and I’ll get the order signed at the bench immediately. Understand?”

“Do what you gotta do.”

Dixon spoke to the deputy sheriff and left.

Jennings was forced to change into the orange jumpsuit. He was fingerprinted and photographed and processed.

The deputy directed him into a holding cell on the main level, not upstairs into population yet. He took Jennings’ crutches and the heavy door slammed with a thunderous boom.

Jennings’ faith and hope staggered with the sound. He hopped to the bed.

Hours later, when the footsteps came, it wasn’t his attorney. It was the dinner cart.

43

Josh Dixon tried and failed to find a commonwealth’s attorney at the courthouse, so he ate lunch and made phone calls and billed two hours before returning.

He finally found one in the hallway behind the courtroom, Boyd Warren was flipping through a file. The man had gone to the Appalachian School of Law, and it galled Dixon he had to pander to the man. One day his star would outshine Warren’s like a supernova. Buried bodies in Peter Lynch’s yard could be his ticket.

“Mr. Warren,” said Josh Dixon. “I need your signature on a bond release.”

Warren didn’t look up. “Who you got, Mr. Dixon?”

“The man who attacked Peter Lynch last night.”

Warren snapped the folder closed. “Yeah? I read about that.”

“Daniel Jennings, a good guy. He’s a teacher, former special forces. Clean record. He’s not going anywhere.”

“What about the cocaine?”

“He says it was planted. He’ll take a drug test right now.”

“They all say it was planted, Mr. Dixon. What was he doing at Mr. Lynch’s house?”

“Looking for buried bodies.”

Commonwealth’s Attorney Boyd Warren smirked. “Your man sounds delusional.”

Dixon lowered his voice and stepped closer. “He’s not, I don’t think. Someone I respect told me to trust him. This could be big, Mr. Warren.”

“You always think your case is big, Dixon.”

“Bodies buried in Peter Lynch’s backyard, are you kidding me? If I’m right, you’ll see my name in the newspaper. I’ll get a sit down on Channel Ten.”

“You better be careful with that ambition, especially in this building.”

Dixon grinned. “After I’m huge, maybe I’ll hire you to do my grunt work, Mr. Warren.”

“Lucky me.” Warren checked his watch. “It’s too late today.”

“I’ll spring