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

the rules by playing dirty, by sneaking around in the dark. He hadn’t gone to the trustees so Jennings wouldn’t either. If Jennings tried to drag the thing into the light, he might get fired more quickly. “You have responsibilities and obligations that I don’t. As soon as I can, Mr. Gordon.”

“Mr. Jennings. I’m at a loss.”

A police cruiser pulled into the lot and parked.

Dean Gordon shook the officer’s hand and introduced himself and outlined what he’d learned from the security footage. While they talked, Jennings opened the glove compartment of the Tacoma and withdrew his insurance card. Snagged his dog tags too. He called his local agent and requested a rental as a crowd formed. He existed in the miserable scrutiny of a microscope, the faculty and students watching, wondering what was wrong with him.

His phone buzzed as soon as he hung up with his USAA agent. Coach Murray calling.

“I heard about your truck, Jennings. You make enemies real damn fast,” Murray said into his ear.

“So did Genghis Khan. I’m in good company.”

“You need a lift?”

“I’ll figure it out. Aren’t you at practice?”

Murray chuckled. “You didn’t hear? The titans are calling for me to get sacked. So Dean Gordon says.”

Jennings cast an eye at Gordon, chatting with the officer. He strolled to the far side of his truck, out of ear shot.

“That’s garbage. Our team won. We’re headed to the championship. You don’t fire the winning general.”

“White guys get their feelings hurt quick. Gordon said I should sit out one day to appease the powers that be while he investigates. To make the rich guys happy, he means.”

“Probably only one rich guy. One rich hairy white guy, whose son got benched. Same guy breaking my windows.”

“You think it’s Sasquatch? I mean, Lynch?”

“He left me a note, Murray. It was unsigned but he gave me clues. He knows.”

“Knows what?”

“Knows I’m after his ass,” said Jennings.

“You gonna get fired, is what you gonna do.”

He grinned. “So are you.”

“Maybe but I ain’t running straight at it.”

“Lynch will make sure I’m not here next year, if I even last that long. So I’ll head him off at the pass. I’m talking to the police about it in a minute.”

“Shit. Jennings… Sure you don’t need a lift? Or some damn common sense?”

“I gotta go.”

He hung up and Officer Thornton came to take his statement. His clipboard and pen ready.

“Dan Jennings? Tell me what you can.”

Jennings said, “I’d like to make my statement at your office. At the police department.”

Thornton was his age, still arrogant about the shield and the power. “That’s a new one. Why’s that?”

“Because it’s complicated.”

The tow truck arrived and Dean Gordon used his radio to call for faculty cars to be moved.

Officer Thornton said, “Well, I guess that’s fine. It’s up on Cove Road, you know.”

“Need a ride, Mr. Jennings?” said Daisy Hathaway. She’d arrived at the parking lot.

“That’s okay, I’ll figure something out.”

“Would it make you feel better if you drove my car? Is it a guy thing?”

“Thanks, but…” Jennings paused. Daisy smiling and hitching her bag higher. Officer Thornton whistling softly under his breath. “Yes ma’am, I need a ride. But you can drive.”

14

Daisy’s Lexus convertible was kept neat, as Jennings knew it would be. The atmosphere they occupied smelled like lotion and perfume, and Jennings stressed he was ruining it.

She drove like a wild woman, a thin cross pendant swinging from her mirror.

“I’m telling the police about Lynch,” he said.

Her grip tightened on the wheel. “What exactly?”

“That he threatened my job. That I was told he beats his children and Benji confirmed it. That he broke my window and vandalized my truck.”

“Can you prove any of that?”

Jennings held up the letter that’d been packaged around the brick. “I hope.”

“What is it?” She eyed it like it could bite.

“He wrote me a note. He didn’t sign it but I’m hoping for fingerprints.”

“Read it to me?”

He did and his face grew hot.

She does NOT belong to YOU, Staff Sergeant.

“That creep was watching us at the game! What the hell is wrong with him? It’s not like we were touching or making out.”

“You should be flattered. He’s rich and seems genuinely interested in you.”

She hit him in the shoulder, like she’d done at the game, and the car swerved.

“That’s not funny.”

“Yes ma’am. I mean, yes Ms. Hathaway.”

“Daisy. I’ll talk to the police too. He mentions me in the note. Ew. I’ll tell them how he hits on me, propositions me.”

“That’s not illegal. And maybe you shouldn’t. I’m putting my job at risk.”

“I’m not letting you do it alone. Besides, I’m excited about it. I’m tired of pretending.”

Officer Thornton parked at the police department on Cove Road and walked them back. It was after four and the day shift looked too tired to take interest in them.

Thornton’s desk was in the bullpen with the others, mostly vacant. He shrugged out of his blue police jacket and dropped it over his chair. He didn’t have a place for them to sit.

“I can take your statement in a conference room. You said it’s complicated?” said Thornton.

“Peter Lynch vandalized my car and I think the department should reopen their investigation into him.”

Jennings knew it was his imagination but he felt the room go still.

Thornton clicked his pen twice. Slid it back into his shirt pocket.

“Peter Lynch.”

“The attorney. You know him?” said Jennings.

“Know of him. Um.” He twisted to look back at the offices. “Wait here.”

Thornton left and came back in a minute and beckoned with two fingers. He led them to a door with a Chief of Police plaque.

Thornton spoke to the man in the office. “Chief, this is them. He says Peter Lynch vandalized his truck. Guys, Chief Gibbs.”

Buck Gibbs was a blocky man pushing sixty-five, beyond the pseudo-mandatory retirement age but still strong. He was completely bald. He took off his reading glasses and dropped them on the records he’d been reading. He stood and said, “Thank you, Thornton. Come on in. Clean off those two chairs. Just set the files on