Free Book One of the Travelers by D.J. MacHale Page B

the police station.
    It was a chaotic scene inside the station, and he had to shout to make himself heard by the desk sergeant. When he asked for Jed, the thick-necked officer grunted and aimed a stubby thumb toward a set of doors. “Still in holding,” the officer said.
    A skinny red-haired man stood in Jed’s cell cradling a sheaf of papers. “It isn’t looking good, Mr. Sweeney,” he was saying as Gunny walked up to the cell. “Perhaps you should consider a plea.”
    â€œPerhaps you should consider another line of work!” Gunny said angrily.
    Startled, the guy lost his grip on his papers, and they flew out of his hands. He bent down to pick them up, looking disgusted that he had to touch the filthy jail-cell floor.
    â€œI’m innocent, and I’m not going to say any different,” Jed told the man who was obviously his lawyer.
    â€œYou got that right,” Gunny agreed.
    The man stood and faced Gunny. Gunny took in the bright blue eyes behind skinny glasses, the acne-pocked skin, and the unruly red hair. “Are you old enough to be an attorney?” Gunny asked.
    Jed laughed, and the man flushed deep scarlet, almost as red as his hair. “This may be my first case, but that doesn’t mean—”
    â€œWe’re getting you a new lawyer,” Gunny told Jed. “A grown-up one.”
    â€œJust because I’m young—”
    â€œNow, Gunny,” Jed said, “let’s give young Mr. Gordon a chance.”
    â€œHave they set bail?” Gunny asked.
    â€œThey set it very high,” the lawyer admitted. “Mr. Sweeney had motive, and they did find him with the murder weapon. And without any witnesses…”
    â€œWhat about other suspects?” Gunny demanded.
    â€œI’m sure the police are investigating every lead,” Mr. Gordon said.
    â€œReally?” Gunny scoffed. “Why should they when you’re already offering Jed to them on a platter with this plea agreement.”
    Mr. Gordon had nothing to say to that. He straightened to his full height—which seemed even taller because he was so skinny—spun around, and left the cell.
    Gunny looked at Jed. Although he was around ten years older than Gunny, Gunny had never noticed Jed’s age. Until now. Here in the jail cell, his seventy-odd years seemed etched in the lines of Jed’s dark face. His white hair added to the impression of an elderly man.
    â€œHow’s the Wright family?” Jed asked.
    â€œCousin Mary went to sit with them,” Gunny said. “And the whole neighborhood believes you’re innocent. Things got kind of crazy after the cops hauled you away.”
    â€œWhat do you mean?”
    â€œPeople were fired up—wanted to go smash up the Paradise. It nearly turned into a riot.”
    Jed let out a low whistle. “Not good.”
    â€œI managed to quiet things down before they really got out of hand,” Gunny said.
    â€œDid you, now?” Jed looked at Gunny thoughtfully. “I’ve always known you were a born leader.”
    Gunny laughed. “Maybe you knew. It was news to me today!”
    Jed twisted his ring. He’d worn that ring for as long as Gunny could remember.
    â€œListen, there’s something I need you to do,” Jed said.
    â€œAnything,” Gunny replied.
    â€œKeep an eye on Junior Wright. Mrs. Wright is going to have her hands full. Jeffrey watched over them during the day while she was at work. Now there’s no one to do that. Delia is a sweet kid with lots of activities that keep her out of trouble. But Junior…”
    â€œI don’t know how to take care of a teenage boy!” Gunny protested. “What am I supposed to do?”
    â€œLearn quickly,” Jed said.

F OUR
    G unny raised his eyebrow. “Not funny.”
    â€œYou’re right. It’s not,” Jed said. “This is important. For Junior. And for you.”
    â€œI have