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

“Give it here.” Warren accepted Dixon’s papers and he wrote on them. “Jennings will need to take that drug test. He must stay away from Lynch, even if an entire cheerleading team is buried back there.”

Dixon looked up and down the hallway, his grin close to splitting his face. “How great would that be.”

The Honorable Francis Lynch was leaning against the door to his office. He’d changed out of his robes and signed off his computer, ready to leave for the day. But instead he was still. All his body straining to listen.

“Jennings will need to take that drug test. He must stay away from Lynch, even if an entire cheerleading team is buried back there.”

“How great would that be.”

“You’re sick, Mr. Dixon. Here’s the bond release. Tell Jennings to keep his head down. Not bad advice for you either.”

The two men, mere feet from the judge’s chambers, moved down the hall, out of earshot.

Francis Lynch clicked off the overhead light. He moved to his desk on weak legs and sat in the darkness.

An hour later, he was still there, a handkerchief pressed to the corner of his mouth, pondering the fate of his little brother.

44

The longest night of Jennings’ life. His fellow man had thrown him into a cage like an animal and the idea of never getting out loomed. He expected Lynch to arrive any minute and laugh in his luxurious freedom.

He’d been moved to the third floor after the hospital medic declared he could keep the crutches. He had his own cell on a long hall and he listened to other inmates shout at one another. He felt like shouting too, raging against everything. It wasn’t him who should be locked up, it was Lynch.

Winner gets the girl.

She’s MINE!

Lynch had truly lost his mind.

He spent the night thinking of historical men he admired who’d spent time in jail—RFK, MLK Jr, Saint Paul, Nelson Mandela, Dietrich Bonhoeffer—and realized their stories rarely ended well. He slept fitfully for ninety minutes. But it might be worth it.

He had proof. Proof!

His attorney arrived the instant the jail opened.

“Daniel, damn, my man, I’m sorry for the delay. The commonwealth was wrapped up and we didn’t hammer it out until it was too late and I couldn’t get you a message… Anyway, you’re free.”

Jennings, bleary, trembled with the news.

He changed into the clean clothes his attorney bought at Walmart. Dixon chattering, “Obviously you can’t go near Peter Lynch, the alleged victim. You have to pass a weekly drug test as part of the probation. Bail was set at $25,000. I took the liberty of posting it but—”

“You paid it?”

“You’ll pay me back before I drop you off. Believe me. I assume you got it?”

Jennings grinned. “Just barely.”

“You’ll get the money back when you show for court.”

“Why do you trust me for $25,000?”

“I trust Mackenzie August, who said you’re good for it. And I think you might be the golden ticket, my man. We’re going to talk about those bodies buried in the field. I have to be in court all day, otherwise we’d figure it out this very damn minute.”

Jennings’ truck was impounded so Dixon drove him home to the Academy after a stop at Starbucks and the bank. He parked near the New River dorm.

Jennings held out his hand and Dixon shook it.

“Dixon, you’re a life saver. I owe you big.”

“Wait until you get my bill.”

Jennings grinned. “Worth every penny.”

“I’m going to clear my schedule soon, and we’re going to talk. We’re gonna dig up those bodies and bust a famous lawyer and be the talk of the town, Jennings.”

“Or we might die trying, keep that in mind.”

“Hah. I’ll call you soon.”

Jennings crutched to the apartment, his crusty prosthesis in a bag slung over his shoulder. It was…Wednesday, he thought. First period should be about to end.

He let himself in. Dropped the clunky bag in the kitchen and maneuvered into the bedroom. Paused there, leaning on his crutches. His to-do list was long and he wanted to do none of it. Couldn’t find the strength, the energy.

Behind him the door to the apartment banged open.

Daisy Hathaway stood in the doorway. Breathless.

“I saw you…” Her voice caught. Jennings, leaning on his crutches, leg missing, his hair a mess, haggard and weary. She said, “I saw you through the window and I ran…”

The sight of Hathaway stuck Jennings as a bolt of pure sunlight, brilliance ricocheting off mirrors, reflections spreading throughout his dark body. He’d done it before, last year, leaving a hospital, wondering if life was worth living, moving on crutches, battling depression in a cold world. Getting a classroom across from Daisy had kept him afloat. Now here he was again, except Daisy wasn’t down the hall; she had run to his apartment, and he knew it was all worth it. Some sudden insight flashed as truths lined up, as he saw the universe from a new angle, and he saw that evil was real and hideous but it was nothing compared to the transcendence found everywhere else, in the laughter of students, the pain of a long jog, the aid of a friend, the welling green eyes of a girl placed here by someone above who wanted him to persevere.

“…I ran and left my class…”

“You ran in heels.” Jennings grinned.

Daisy crying now. She put a hand to her lips. “I called you and I called you and I was scared.”

“Sorry, my phone’s dead.”

“I heard you were in prison?”

“It wasn’t so bad. Great green beans,” said Jennings.

Half laugh, half sob. “You tried to kill him?”

“I did. Changed my mind at the last minute.”

"I’m so sorry, Daniel. I called the police when you wouldn’t answer. I waited for two hours, hoping—”

“You saved my life.”

“Really?”

“Lynch was going to kill me. But the police got there.”

“What do you mean, what happened?”

“He caught me off guard. And he had an ax.” It wasn’t a good memory but he was smiling. Daisy charged him like a battery.

“Poor Craig Lewis was right. Lynch