Free Darkness the Color of Snow by Thomas Cobb Page A

Edna’s. He’s aware that someone is standing to his right. He turns to find a smiling face and an extended hand. “I believe we’ve met before. Martin Glendenning, president of the town council.”
    Ronny, who knows exactly who he is, nods and extends his hand.
    â€œI just wanted to say hello and extend my condolences on the loss of your friend, Matthew. He was your friend, wasn’t he?”
    â€œBack in the day. Yeah. We knew each other for a pretty long time.”
    â€œWell, I’m sorry for your loss. And you? Are you doing all right? I understand you were sent to the hospital Sunday night.”
    Ronny shakes his head. “Nothing. It’s really nothing, just some scrapes on my arm and leg. I’m fine.”
    â€œWell, I’m certainly glad to hear that,” Martin says. “And you’re doing all right, otherwise?”
    â€œYeah. Fine. I’m fine.”
    â€œThat’s good. That’s great to hear. If there’s anything that I can do to help you through this trying time, please let me know. I’ll do whatever I can. I want you to know that I’m on your side, so if you have any problems, let me know.”
    â€œThank you. I appreciate that.”
    â€œNo. Thank you. For the job you’re doing for our town.” Martin smiles a big smile. “You might be underpaid, but you’re not underappreciated.” He claps Ronny on the shoulder. “Remember. Anytime. Keep me posted.”
    â€œThank you.”
    Ronny goes back to his eggs as Martin Glendenning wanders around the diner stopping to chat and laugh, when it occurs to Ronny. My side? Who’s on the other side?
    W HEN R ONNY WALKS into the office, everyone is there—­Gordy, Pete, Steve, and John. There must have been a meeting this morning, or an important football game last night. He can’t tell because the talking stops when he walks in. There is a pause, long enough to be noticeable, then they greet him, ask about his health. When that’s done, things lapse back into silence again.
    â€œI’m here to write my report,” he says.
    Gordy gets up. “You feel ready to do that?”
    â€œYeah,” he says. “I do. I haven’t really remembered anything more about what happened that I haven’t already told you. I’ll just have to write about that.”
    â€œThat’s fine,” Gordy says. “Write it just as you remember it. You call your dad?”
    â€œYeah.”
    â€œVanessa?”
    â€œYeah, her too.”
    â€œAnd you’re feeling OK?”
    â€œYeah. I am. A little bored, but I’m OK.”
    â€œGood. Good. Sorry about the bored part. Maybe you could start War and Peace .”
    â€œI don’t really read.”
    â€œWell, watch movies. Take long drives, go to the gym. Whatever eats up the time. You’ll be back to work in no time.”
    â€œReally?”
    â€œYeah. Really. I told you, you’re suspended, not fired. You’ve already got one day down. Come on. Let’s get that report done.”
    Gordy takes him over to the desk Ronny shares with John North and says, “Excuse us.” John gets up and pulls out the chair for Ronny in an exaggerated impression of a waiter. Ronny sits, taps the computer back from sleep mode, and pulls up the template for reports.
    REPORT LYDELL POLICE DEPARTMENT
    Case Number
    â€œI don’t know the case number.”
    â€œSeventy-­three twenty-­one,” Pete says.
    Case Number 7321
    Date: December 18, 2010
    Reporting Officer Ptl. Ronald Forbert
    Preparer Ptl. Ronald Forbert
    Incident: Death of Matthew Laferiere by hit and run driver on Route 417, Lydell, during traffic stop for speeding.
    Detail of Event
    At approximately 24:30, December 16, 2010, I was on patrol on Route 417, specifically clocking traffic for speeding vehicles. Lit approaching vehicle, a 2001 Jeep Cherokee with only one headlight, traveling at 68 mph, per