Sunken Graves by Alan Lee (life books to read txt) 📗

the word. The silence from the papers and news stations is frightening.”

Their food arrived. Jennings and Lewis leaned back to make room and clear the air. They ate a moment.

“You’d think the local NBC and CBS affiliates would be all over that story,” said Jennings.

“One would think.”

“So…Lynch has allies everywhere. In the news studios, killing the story. Is that it?”

Lewis shrugged, holding the burger with both hands. Barbecue sauce dripped onto his plate.

“Could be, Dan. But the thing of it is, Lynch isn’t that popular of a guy. He isn’t beloved. Who are these powerful allies? He doesn’t sit on any college boards, he doesn’t run with the ‘in’ crowd, he doesn’t golf with the mayor, he doesn’t live in the posh part of town. Lynch is a lone wolf.”

“He’s a bully, more like.”

“Oh he’s more complex than that, Dan. He’s a sociopath, pure and simple.”

Jennings wiped his hands on a napkin, his burger gone. “I have a vague awareness of what a sociopath is, but humor me?”

“A sociopath has a significant personality disorder. A sociopath doesn’t care about the feelings of others. They don’t or can’t empathize. Often it’s caused by childhood trauma and so the sociopath has a hard time controlling his anger, living a normal life.”

“A sociopath has no conscience.”

“They have one, but it’s weak. And they only form attachments with a few people.”

“Violent?”

“Usually. They manipulate and intimidate to get their way. Sometimes they are effective at running companies because they’re so headstrong.”

Jennings finished his beer, giving him a chance to process. Crossed his arms and tilted his head upward toward the ceiling.

Sociopath. A scary word for a scary man.

“Sure sounds like him.”

Lewis popped a french fry and nodded. “Lynch thrives on fear, I think. He likes to see the fear and panic he causes. If you dig far enough into his past, I’d bet money you find an antisocial personality disorder diagnosis. I’m sure he’s been sent to court-mandated—”

Lewis paused. He sat up straighter and cleared his throat.

Jennings noted the sudden change. “All good?”

“Don’t turn around, Mr. Jennings. Keep looking at me. And play it cool.”

“What’s wrong?”

Lewis’ eyes fixed woodenly on Jennings’ plate. “Peter Lynch’s brother is here. Francis. Don’t turn around.”

A ball of ice formed in Jennings’ stomach. The brother. “Is that a problem? He’s a local judge, right?”

“It’s… It’s not a problem. Francis isn’t a sociopath. He’s dangerous but he has a moral compass his brother doesn’t.”

“You know him?” said Jennings.

“I know him. I taught his wife, matter of fact, in my twenties. And we…kept in touch. I feel guilty, is all. Talking about his brother has me worked up.”

“Okay. You look pale, Craig.”

“He sees me. He’s coming this way.”

“Should I ward him off?”

“I’m alright. Just…I’m alright.”

Francis Lynch approached from behind Jennings and stopped at their table. He blocked out the overhead lights.

Lewis forced a smile. “Francis, I wondered if that was you.”

“Craig Lewis, what a treat. You didn’t think you’d sneak out without saying hello.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it. Francis, this is my colleague from school, ah, Dan.” He held his hand toward Jennings.

Jennings had to lean back to take in Francis. Tall like his brother. Clean shaven and pale with the familial thick black hair. Francis looked like a vampire. His brother, a werewolf.

“Dan,” said Francis. Almost a question.

Was that recognition? The ice ball hardened within. Jennings nodded in greeting. “Francis.”

The man towered over them a silent moment, keeping Jennings transfixed, and turned once more to Lewis.

“Dan’s your colleague, Craig?” Gave him a friendly smile. Hidden behind the smile was meaning.

“My colleague, Francis, yes.”

“Good-looking young man, isn’t he.”

“What I tell myself every morning in the mirror,” said Jennings.

The Honorable Lynch nodding slowly. When he spoke he did so from the right corner of his mouth, as though the left side was numb. “You two are working on lesson plans over drinks, I’m sure.”

“How’s your lovely wife?”

“Rita is fine, Craig. I’ll tell her I saw you.” Francis Lynch waved a black check folder at them. “I intercepted your bills on the way over. My pleasure.”

Jennings flinched. The generosity felt like a slap. Felt like Peter Lynch throwing money at Ms. King. “You don’t need to.”

Francis didn’t look at him. “Until teachers get paid what they deserve, I’ll pick up the check as often as I can. Have a fun night, boys.”

Francis left and all the light he’d been blocking returned.

Lewis picked up his napkin and wiped his hands and his mouth. He trembled.

“Lord, that caught me off guard.”

“Why?”

“I’m old, Dan. I get jumpy.”

“You plan on telling me the secret you’re hiding?” said Jennings.

“We should… I’d like to go.”

“Sure.”

Jennings dropped cash on the table for the tip and they walked out. Lewis paused in the cold parking lot near his Honda Accord. Jennings gave him time.

They were alone.

“You’re right, Mr. Jennings, there’s more. Listen a moment.” A deep breath that fogged when he released. “I’m gay.”

“Okay.”

“Did you know?”

“I didn’t.”

“Most people don’t. I’m out of the closet but I also don’t advertise. Some of our colleagues know. Not all.”

Jennings nodded and didn’t reply.

“Francis Lynch and his wife have an open relationship. At least, his side of the arrangement is open. I don’t know how social she is. Francis’ flings are with men.” Lewis shivered and zipped his coat.

“With you, I assume.”

“Years ago. I’m not proud of it. Before anything happened with Peter and his step-daughter.”

Jennings, understanding now. “He called me your good-looking colleague. Said you and I were doing lesson plans over drinks.”

“Exactly. I caught jealousy. Though he has no right.”

“Craig, you think Francis helps his brother skirt the law?”

“I don’t know. Francis is…well, he’s not nice but he isn’t a monster. He’s level-headed. Respected, where his brother isn’t. Whatever trauma affected Peter, Francis caught some too but he’s brilliant and functional. He’s not an active criminal that I know, but it’s been years. He’d always pay for things. He’d say teachers can’t afford anything, not even justice.”

Jennings’ truck was parked next to the Honda. He leaned against it, shoved hands into his pockets.

“Our trysts ended