Free Return to Sullivans Island by Dorothea Benton Frank Page B

be used later.
    Chief Howard was writing up tickets, tearing them off the pad, and handing them one by one to Grant, who looked at each one and passed them to Henry.
    “Sorry, Henry, but I have to do this. We got regulations to follow like every other town.”
    “Understood. But there is still plenty of light. Perhaps the golf cart violation could get some consideration?”
    Chief Howard looked up at the sky. Henry was right. It was almost nine o’clock and the sky was still light although the sun had set. Howard decided that they were both right. He took the golf cart ticket back from Henry and tore it in two. Thus Henry and Grant saved themselves five hundred dollars that they would have taken out of the boys’ hides.
    “In memory of Father Kelly and for old times’ sake. I assume I can release these young men into your custody?”
    “Thank you. Father Kelly was a saint. Yeah, I’ll take these marauding hoodlums off your hands.”
    “The underage consumption of alcohol will have to be dealt with in Family Court downtown. Our court meets on Tuesday night.”
    “Great,” Grant said. “We go back to California tomorrow morning.”
    Henry said, “And we’re going back to Atlanta. Can we just plead guilty and pay the fine?”
    “Probably, but I’d call Judge Steinert. He can tell you what to do.”
    “Kids,” Grant said. “Steinert?”
    “You’re telling me?” Chief Howard said. “I’ve got four with two more on the way. Can you imagine? Anyway, Steve Steinert is a really good guy.” Chief Howard opened the back door of his car to release the boys. “All right, gentlemen. Let’s go.”
    When they were out, Chief Howard slammed the door and went around to the driver’s side of the car.
    “Good night, Chief. And thank you,” Henry said.
    “Yes,” Grant said. “Thank you very much.”
    Chief Howard saluted Henry and Grant in that friendly but official way in which manly men acknowledged one another’s departure.
    Bucky, Phillip, and Blake stood around waiting for Henry or Grant to kill them.
    Henry’s cool demeanor evaporated. Through gritted teeth he said to Phillip and Blake, “Let’s go inside for a minute. I want to have a word with both of you.”
    Beth and Mike would have sworn on a Bible that there was a trace of steam around Henry’s head. Phillip and Blake looked terrified as they followed their father up the back steps. Henry had more than a little of his father’s well-known temper.
    Then Grant, who seemed to be struggling to restore even breathing, turned to Bucky, drawing back, inhaling deeply.
    “So what do you have to say for yourself?”
    “I’m a dumbass.”
    “Yeah, we could start with that. You know, here’s what disturbs me, son.” He pointed his finger into Bucky’s chest, which was something Grant rarely did. “You’re the older one, right? The role model? You got your two cousins in some very hot water when it wasn’t necessary. Why did you do it? Explain this to me because I don’t get it.”
    “We were bored, I guess. You know how it is. It didn’t seem like such a big deal, Dad. I mean, it was just beer.”
    “Just beer. And probably a five-hundred-dollar fine. Pretty expensive beer, don’t you think?”
    “I guess.” Bucky was staring at the ground. “It’s not like half the world doesn’t ride around the island with something in a cup.”
    Mike and Beth looked at each other as if to say, Why is he digging himself this hole? But Grant was leading the questioning around to impose his own measure of justice.
    “Perhaps they do, but you got caught. Didn’t you? You had a can of beer, logo showing for anyone to see, a blatant violation of the law, and you knew it, right?”
    “Yeah. I guess.”
    “Did you say yeah ?”
    “Yes sir.”
    Beth and Mike looked at each other because every person on earth knew that saying yeah in this situation was basically suicidal. Besides they could both see Grant’s temple twitch, which was his renowned telltale