“Your eyebrows are twitching. Whenever you get worried about something, your eyebrows twitch.”
“Well, I’m damned sorry about that, Ivan,” Fritz said testily, “But I tend to worry when my boy has been accused of raping a girl. That worries me something terrible.”
“That charge won’t stick for a minute.”
“It might. She’s just about made a believer out of me. Jade isn’t some white-trash girl trying to get the goods on three prominent boys. Why would she make up a tale like that? She’s pretty and smart and on her way to making something of herself. What’s she got to gain by raising a stink if there’s no truth to it?”
“How the hell do I know?” Ivan said, giving off the first signs of anger. “Attention, maybe. Or maybe she was pissed off at her boyfriend and saw a way to get back at him.”
“You don’t believe that any more than I do, Ivan. You know damn well there’s more to this than some playfulness that got a little out of hand.” Fritz eyed him closely. “Somebody over at the hospital owed you a favor, right? And this morning you called in the marker.”
Ivan didn’t even blink. “You sure you want to ask that, Sheriff? Are you sure you want to know?”
“I hate to think of police evidence being tampered with. It makes me want to puke.”
Ivan leaned forward. His eyes shone. “Do you want Hutch’s name linked to a rape charge?”
“Goddammit, of course not.”
“Then relax,” Ivan said. Putting his words into action, he leaned back in his chair and took another sip of his coffee. “It’s taken care of. In a day or two it’ll all blow over.”
Fritz glanced worriedly toward the door. “That girl intends to formally charge them.”
“She’ll change her mind.”
“What if she doesn’t?”
“She will.”
“What if she doesn’t?” Fritz repeated, nearly shouting.
Ivan chuckled softly. “If she doesn’t drop it, we’ll make her out to be a whoring liar.”
Nausea roiled in Fritz’s stomach. “Who would believe that of Jade?”
“Before I get through with her,” Ivan said with a dangerous leer, “men all over the county will be claiming she’s sucked them off, and folks’ll be itching to believe every sordid word of it.”
Fritz felt ill. He had to get out in the fresh air. Standing, he said, “You’ll have to excuse me, Ivan. I’ve been here since just after midnight. I’m going home to shower and eat something.”
Ivan stood up, too. “You know what I find hardest to believe about all this? That that little shit Lamar could actually get it up. I’d’ve paid to see that.” Laughing, he slapped Fritz on the back. It was all Fritz could do not to cringe and shake off his touch. “Neal said Hutch went at her like a rutting hog. What does your boy have to say for hisself?”
“I haven’t talked to him yet. I called Dora and told her to keep him home from school. That’s one reason I’m anxious to get home. I want Hutch to tell me that he didn’t force that girl to do anything.”
Ivan grabbed his arm and pulled him around, even though Fritz outsized him considerably. “You listen to me, Sheriff,” he hissed. “I don’t give a fuck what Hutch tells you or doesn’t tell you, there’ll be no public confessions—not on the witness stand, not at the altar of the Baptist church, not anywhere. You hear me? You got that down real good?”
“Ivan, if they’re guilty—”
“Guilty my great-granny’s ass. Guilty of what? Of getting laid? Since when is it a crime for horny young bucks to get laid? Afterward, the girl got a little scared.” He shrugged. “That’s understandable, I guess. Our boys probably didn’t use much finesse. But she’s not hurt. She’ll get over this. If our boys go to prison, their lives’ll be ruined.”
He pushed his face up very close to Fritz’s. “My boy ain’t going to do one frigging day in prison over a piece of tail. I don’t care how bad Hutch’s conscience hurts him, or how ethical you’ve convinced yourself you are, you bury this incident now, Fritz. Now.”
Ivan released him and stepped back. He smoothed his hand over his hair, which was slick with grooming cream. He rolled his shoulders, forcing them to relax. Then, pasting on a hale and hearty grin, he opened the door and sauntered into the squad room.
Fritz watched Ivan leave, hating him for his cocksureness, despising him for his lack of morals, and admiring him for his unflagging audacity. Fritz barked a name. Within seconds the clerk appeared in front of him.
“Yes, sir?”
“Once you’ve typed up the complaint, take it over to the Sperrys’ house and leave it with them.” Wearing his most fearsome scowl, Fritz looked directly into the clerk’s eyes. “Then forget about it. If it ever gets back to me that you breathed a word of what’s going to be on that complaint, you’ll sorely regret it—and I’m talking about for the rest of your life.”