Free Broken Heartland by J.M. Hayes Page B

require a key. Once inside the fence, we should be able to see what’s going on through the windows. If we can’t and your keys won’t open the basement door, I know how to jimmy those windows.”
    Juhnke raised his eyebrows.
    â€œHey, I was a student here. Remember?”
    â€œAnd a trouble maker, it sounds like.”
    The sheriff led the way down the front hall and out the exit. “Not really. But this is a small school and an old building. All of us knew its secrets.”
    â€œEveryone but the administrators, apparently,” Juhnke said.
    Someone ran over a handful of black walnuts on Main Street. The explosive cracks rang across the school yard and the sheriff grinned as Juhnke ducked. Grinned, until he noticed there weren’t any cars on Main. No one was there to run over walnuts and cause gunshot-like explosions. Nothing explained the sounds, except maybe a real gun that might be somewhere inside the school.
    ***
    â€œMad Dog,” Pastor Goodfellow said. “You’re the last person I expected to find visiting God’s house.”
    Mad Dog could believe that.
    â€œMorning, Pastor. Seems to me every house is God’s house. Besides, you’ve got that big welcome sign by the front door. I didn’t think anyone would mind.”
    â€œWe welcome all who come here to accept Jesus. Is that what brings you?”
    Mad Dog shook his head. “Not today, thanks. I’m not inclined to join a faith whose followers would put an obscene sign in my front yard, kill small animals, and poison the water bowl by my back door. I was looking for Mark Brown. He’s supposed to be keeping an eye on my place. His dad thought he might be here listening to Ms. Epperson practice the piano.”
    Goodfellow favored him with a patient smile. “Each of us is granted free will. We may use it to accept Jesus, or not. But I assure you, no true Christian would do the things of which you accuse us. As for Mark, alas, he hasn’t accepted salvation here either. Nor has he been present in this house of worship today, as you can see for yourself.”
    Another man stuck his head in the door, a little fellow with a bad comb-over. “Don’t waste time with this guy. Just get him out of here.”
    Mad Dog didn’t recognize the man. “So the welcome sign is only for show?”
    The man who wanted Mad Dog gone didn’t answer. He just looked at Goodfellow and said, “I mean now,” before he disappeared back into the hall.
    â€œMy apologies,” Goodfellow said. “Mr. Dunbar could have been more polite, but I suppose he’s within his rights. He’s a representative of the political action committee renting our facilities today. Since they’ve brought in local volunteers who are trying to put your brother out of a job, your presence could hamper the enthusiasm of their efforts.”
    Mad Dog nodded. “Not a problem, Pastor. I’ve been thrown out of better places. You prefer me to use a back door?”
    Goodfellow’s smile was weak. “If you don’t mind,” he said, “there’s an exit at the end of the hall.”
    The Epperson girl grabbed her purse and put her arm through Mad Dog’s. “I don’t think I want to be here anymore, either,” she said. “Let’s go. I’ll help you find Mark.” She edged Mad Dog out of the practice room and into the corridor. Dunbar was tapping a foot, arms folded, a few steps back into the church.
    â€œYou know,” she told Mad Dog, louder than was necessary for him to hear, “I wasn’t planning to vote. But now I want to go right over and cast my ballot for Englishman.”
    They went out the rear exit into bright sun and a gentle fall breeze. Someone slammed the door behind them.
    ***
    Screams. More walnuts that weren’t walnuts. Shouts. Pounding footsteps. A kid, a boy with red hair and pimples, came careening around the corner. When