Mean Streak

“Not yet. We will.”

“Send a female officer to question her. She should be gently dealt with.”

After a short but telling pause, Grange asked, “Was she raped?”

Emory said, “She’s fifteen.”

“Did you terminate her pregnancy?”

“That’s privileged information.”

“Did the mystery guy get the girl pregnant and—”

“No.”

“How do you know?”

“Again. Privileged.”

“The Floyd boys don’t share their mother’s opinion of this man. Before pulling the dumb act, Norman referred to him as a brute.”

She snuffled with disgust. “Norman would know.”

After a short pause, Knight tried again. “Emory, did you witness the beating he gave those boys?”

“I want my lawyer.”

Knight leaned toward her again. “You scared?”

“Of arrest?”

“Of him?” he asked with annoyance.

“No.”

Knight angrily popped his rubber band. “What gets me, is all y’all refusing to talk about this guy. The deputy told us that no sooner had Norman mentioned him than Will went bonkers right there in his hospital bed. He was mm-hmming and shaking his head, best he could with those rods sticking out his jawbone.

“Then he motioned for paper and pen and scribbled that note for Norman not to say any more, and Norman heeded the warning. Went mute from there. It was like they were scared, and these two have never been timid a day in their lives, and they don’t frighten or back down easily.”

She just looked at him.

He exhaled heavily. “I’ll repeat one of the questions I asked you yesterday, Emory. While this man held you captive, did he threaten you, harm you?”

“I wasn’t held captive.”

“He never restrained you?”

Let go of my hands.

No, Doc.

Please.

No.

But I want to touch you, too. Let go.

Un-huh. This is the only way I can control—