“Sheriff Reed,” she says in a friendly voice once the door opens. I see the brown uniform and the wide brim of his hat through the window. “I thought you may stop by.”
He wipes his boots on the mat and enters the house. I haven’t moved an inch from the table where my organic salad from Epic sits before me. Leelee doesn’t cook. We just order from the restaurant every day and bring it home.
“Sorry to interrupt your dinner,” he says, “But I wanted to follow up on the situation the other day.”
His eyes skim over me, they’re kind and not accusing, but I can’t help but feel guilty, like the whole thing was my fault. It’s irrational, but anxiety is irrational (or so my therapist told me) and it bubbles in my chest.
“This is my granddaughter, Starlee.” She gestures to a chair and Sheriff Reed pulls it out and sits.
“I heard you witnessed the fight yesterday?” he asks.
“Yes.”
“Can you tell me what happened? Exactly?”
I want to forget it, but this man is trying to do his job. I take a deep breath and tell him what happened on the street the day before.
“The backpacker, his name is Henry Dugan. We found him in the system for a few other muggings and robberies. Tom told me he found a knife. Did he use it on you?”
I nod. “Yes. He was trying to make me come back to the house so I could give him money.”
“And what happened with the boy? How did the fight start?”
“I’m not even sure. One minute that guy was threatening me and then next, the boy, uh, Dexter, had him on the ground. It happened so fast.”
“Henry denies he had a knife and that the boy attacked him for no reason.” The sheriff’s expression is neutral when he says this.
“No. That’s not true. He had the knife. I saw it. I’m not sure what would have happened if Dexter hadn’t come out.”
Leelee gives me a small, encouraging smile. I know she’s friends with Sierra, and Dexter is a member of the community. I’m telling the truth and even though he helped me, I have the feeling he’s a dangerous person. A dangerous person that came to my rescue.
Life, real life, outside books, is confusing.
The sheriff asks me a few more questions and I answer them as best as I can. When he’s finished, he stands and shakes my hand and my grandmother’s.
“What happens next?” Leelee asks.
He rubs his chin. “Dugan’s locked up for now. Can’t make bail and he doesn’t seem to have any kin coming to his aid. He’ll stay in the county lock-up until he has a trial. Not sure how the DA will proceed, but I’ll keep you posted on any changes.”
“Thank you,” Leelee says. I offer a weak smile. I just want this to be over.
When he’s gone, my grandmother returns to the table and says, “I didn’t know your first few days would be so exciting.”
“Neither did I.” I push my salad around with my fork.
“I’m assuming you haven’t told your mother.”
I shake my head.
“Good. The truth is, life gets messy. Sometimes we meet bad people and in the same moment we meet someone good. It’s life. Real life, and as much as I wish that hadn’t happened to you, I’m glad that you survived.”
Survive. I think about that word. Survivor. It’s the opposite of victim. One of those is familiar. The other isn’t and I’m not sure how to feel.
The following morning, I wake at my normal time, just before dawn. A quick glance out the window reveals Jake sitting on the rooftop, looking toward the mountains. The idea of going out there is scary. I’m scared but I want to go, and the backyard with someone else around seems like the safest bet.
Even if that someone is a handsome football player with a deadly smile.
I tug my hoodie on, zipping it up under my chin. It’s still cool in the mornings—maybe it stays this way all summer. I step over the flower bed and down the darkened side of the house. The trashcan is still upside down and I use my hands to help me get up.