Free The More They Disappear by Jesse Donaldson Page B

tug at first—then a harder one. Tara flinched and opened her eyes. They radiated fear for a moment before she recognized Mary Jane. Then she glanced over at the boy and smiled. Mary Jane wanted to tell her to fuck off but she needed the ride. “Let’s go,” she said. As she walked back to the car, Mary Jane noticed a small clump of hair in her hand. She studied the delicate blond ringlets and opened her fist and watched them float away in the breeze.
    *   *   *
    Harlan walked into the sheriff’s department and was greeted by the sight of Frank sprawled over the couch with his boots kicked off and his holey socks perched on an armrest. He held a cold pack to one eye.
    â€œWhat happened to you?” Harlan asked.
    Frank dropped his hand and revealed a bruise more yellow than black but ugly enough.
    Harlan shrugged. “Well?”
    â€œI pulled this guy over outside the dirt track and had him step out to fail his sobriety test when bang!” He smacked his hand against the cold pack. “I never saw it coming. Next thing I know there’re four, five guys pounding on me.” Frank didn’t look like he’d been worked over by more than one good punch but Harlan didn’t press the finer points. Paige came out from the break room and Frank pointed at her. “Ask Paige. I radioed for backup and she come out there.”
    Harlan tipped his head toward Frank. “What do you know about this?”
    â€œWhoever did it ran off,” she said. “It was ugly out there. No one wanted to help the cops much, you know?”
    â€œWhat kind of car?”
    â€œWhite sedan,” Frank said. “A Toyota, I think.”
    â€œYou write down the plates?”
    Frank didn’t reply and Harlan crossed his arms.
    â€œGive me a break, okay?” Frank said and put the cold pack back to his eye.
    Harlan pointed at Paige. “You and me are going out there. Frank, put your feet up on your own couch. And next time write down the plates.” Frank groaned and shifted his heft as Harlan tossed his keys to Paige. “You’re driving,” he said.
    He felt crackerjack as they walked outside, buoyed by the confidence that comes from giving orders and having them followed. For the first time, he felt like the sheriff of Finley County and not some interloper. Paige kept turning toward him with her mouth half-open as she drove, but whenever Harlan looked back, she returned her eyes to the road. She was new to the department, less than a year in. Lew had been against hiring a woman but the mayor insisted, not that Lew’s objections kept him from spouting some high-minded rhetoric about gender equality to the newspaper when it ran an article about the hire. Paige was cautious around the other deputies, seemed to know her place was tenuous. “If you have something to tell me, speak up,” Harlan said.
    She took a moment before replying. “It’s just … last night was a shit show. Frank’s beat up and cursing those kids and they’re cursing me and who knows if one of them has a gun. Half of them are high. I was afraid. And what am I supposed to do? Call you? Call in every deputy? We’d still be outnumbered. You get what I’m saying?”
    â€œYou’re saying there’re more criminals than cops.”
    â€œI’m saying I don’t see why we don’t shut the dirt track down.”
    Harlan cracked the window and lit a smoke. The dirt track was the brainchild of a petty criminal named Leland Abbot. After inheriting his father’s spread, Leland turned the property into an ATV park by building an oval track and cutting trails through the woods for off-roaders. It was the closest thing to a legit enterprise he’d ever dreamt up and the most happening nightspot in Finley County. He charged parking fees and looked the other way when underage kids brought in beer. There’d been talk of trying to shut the