Sworn to Protect (25 page)

“I’ve got a better idea. There’s an old moonshine distillery not far from here, in the hills. There’s a cabin, too, about a hundred yards from it where the old timers used to live while they made their hooch.”

“I don’t know . . .”

“The place is so cool! Think of it as a history lesson,” Ty said. “I’ll bet you’ve never seen anything like it, and there’s always old stuff lying around.”

“What, like actual hooch?”

“No, stupid. That’s all gone. But there’s jugs and some leftover equipment. Once I found a big knife and a button from a Confederate coat in the dirt.”

“That’s cool.” He had to admit that sounded interesting. “I’ve heard of people finding Civil War artifacts all over this part of Tennessee, but I’ve never found any myself.”

“Then come on. It’s not like we’d make it back in time for school, anyhow.”

He agreed with some trepidation, but Ty was right. They wouldn’t make it back for school, and this was the last time he was doing this, anyway. Might as well see if he could find something interesting, since staking out Johnson’s place had been a bust. He was still disappointed about that. He’d wanted to make Shane proud.

The hike was longer than he’d expected, but since it was in the general direction of town instead of away from it, the walk home from the distillery wouldn’t take as long. Just when he was about to accuse Ty of making it up, the place came into view.

The distillery was sitting in a copse of trees and nearly overgrown with weeds. Drew wasn’t sure how the contraption worked, exactly, except that there were a bunch of barrel things, trays where the liquid must’ve run, and a spout where the finished product finally emerged to be bottled.

“Awesome,” he said, checking out the setup. It was like stepping into another world. “I can’t imagine living up here, working day after day making moonshine for the money to survive. I’ve read that it was a whole subculture that was accepted among hill people.”

“It still is, in some places. I saw a special about it on cable. The groups are so tight-knit and dangerous, even the FBI and DEA can’t get in to close ’em down.”

“I imagine today it’s a lot higher-tech than this.”

“For sure.”

They kicked around some, poking about the remains. There wasn’t much there in the way of souvenirs, so they eventually moved on, ambling in the direction of the cabin Ty mentioned. They both kept an eye open for arrowheads, which were abundant if you had a sharp eye and knew what to look for. Drew didn’t have a ton of practice, though, and didn’t find anything. But neither did Ty.

Both of them forgot all about exploring when they topped the last hill and found the cabin. Because it wasn’t empty—three cars were parked haphazardly around it. There didn’t appear to be anyone outside, which meant they were inside.

“Stay down,” Ty said, pulling him behind the trees.

“Isn’t that your dad’s SUV?” He eyed the black Escalade, a terrible urge to get the hell out of there kick-starting his nerves.

“Yeah. And that’s Johnson’s truck.” Ty pointed to an old red Chevy. “I don’t know who the third one belongs to.”

“Me, either. Ty, let’s go. Whatever they’re doing, we don’t need to know.” So much for being a hero.

“Screw that! This is my chance to get in on whatever game my old man has going. You don’t have to worry about where your next dime is comin’ from, but the rest of us have to survive.” The boy practically sneered the last sentence. “Leave if you want, pussy.”

Drew hesitated. He really, really wanted to bolt. But he couldn’t, in good conscience, leave without knowing Ty was safe. Even if the guy was a dick. “I’ll go with you to look, but then we’re ghosting out of here. All right? And when you confront your dad, I was never here.”

The other boy thought about it. “Deal.”

There are times in a man’s life, he’d heard, when he should listen
very
closely to the little voice in his head screaming
You’re about to do something really freaking stupid!
In some form or another, Shane had been attempting to drill that message into his thick skull for weeks. But sometimes a man has to make that final, awful error before the message truly hits home for good.

As they crept forward, and Drew heard the vicious argument taking place inside, he had a feeling that
this
was that final error.

Ty crouched behind the Escalade and motioned Drew forward. Gritting his teeth, Drew dashed from his tree to his friend hunkering low. Ty pointed to the side of the cabin to a window, indicating that was their destination.

“No, they’ll spot us! This is close enough.”

“We need to hear what’s going on and see who the third person is.”

“
You
need to, not me.”

The boy went, anyway, and Drew silently cursed. The shithead was going to get them killed. But if he could bring something to Shane after all . . .

He got moving and squatted under the window next to Ty. The voices could be heard pretty clearly from here, and there wasn’t a lot of doubt what the ruckus was about.

“I’ll tell you both the same thing Holstead told you,” a man shouted. “That shit is totally unstable. We can’t successfully market a product and keep it under the radar when it starts killing off our customers right and left! We have to perfect the formula if we have a prayer of establishing a business long term.”

“That’s not Johnson,” Drew whispered.

“Not my dad, either.”

So it was the third, unknown man.

Another man countered angrily, “Fuck the long term! We’re making boatloads of money
now
. So what if a few spoiled, rich athletes are dumb enough to take the stuff and drop dead? They deserve exactly what they get.” That wasn’t Johnson, so it must be Carl Eastlake.

And his voice sounded too damned familiar. Then what Carl said hit Drew, and he felt lightheaded. An awful truth was taking shape in his mind, but he had to know for sure.

As the two men continued to verbally duke it out, Drew took a chance. He raised his head to peer over the ledge and through the window. Beside him, Ty did the same.

Johnson was standing off to the side, merely watching the heated debate. However, it was the sight of Carl Eastlake that rooted Drew to the ground in spellbound horror.

Oh, my God. God, no. This man, Ty’s dad—Carl was the one who . . .

Just then, Carl became tired of arguing. Suddenly, he pulled a huge gun from the waistband of his jeans and pointed it at the third man’s forehead. “I guess you didn’t learn your lesson from Holstead when he decided to be the squeaky wheel. This conversation is over.”

One pop, the gun jerking in Carl’s hand, and a red spot bloomed right between the man’s eyes. Brains and blood splattered all over the table behind the victim, and Johnson simply moved out of the way as their former partner slumped to the floor.

“Shit, shit!” Drew staggered backward, unable to tear his horrified gaze away.

“Fuck!” Ty shouted, standing up.

Which immediately gained Carl’s attention, his murderous gaze fixing on the two boys at the window. “Ty!” he shouted. “Get your scrawny ass in here, boy.”

Ty lit out in the direction of the woods, not even stopping to see if Drew was behind him. Drew was hot on his heels, running faster than he ever had in his life. He was convinced he’d feel a bullet tear through his body any second, ending his life as fast as that of the man in the cabin. Either that, or his heart would explode from pure terror and he’d drop like a stone. As dead as his father.

His dad, whom Carl had killed with his drugs and pretty promises to an aging NFL star. Of playing stronger. Regaining his edge over guys who were younger and faster.

They ran through the woods, taking the most direct route all the way to town. Drew wasn’t sure how long they’d been running, but his sides were heaving and his lungs burning as if he’d swallowed hot coals by the time they stopped in the parking lot behind Hardee’s.

“He’s gonna kill me,” Drew panted between breaths, bracing his shaking hands on his knees.

“He won’t.” Ty was struggling for breath, too. “I won’t tell him who you are. I swear.”

“But he recognized me.”

“What do you mean? From where?”

“My dad’s house. He fucking sold my dad drugs.”

“Shit! Okay, look, you didn’t rat him out for that. I’ll convince him you won’t tell about this.”

“I’m a goddamn
murder witness
!”

“Fuck, man, let me think,” Ty said between gritted teeth, running his hands through his hair. “Okay, here’s the deal. You can’t tell, because you knew your dad was doing drugs and didn’t do anything about it—you’re, like, an accessory.”

Drew flinched from the pain. “It
is
just as much my fault. I suspected what was going on, but I never told anyone, not even Shane.”

Ty took a few more breaths. “I’ll explain it to the old man, and he’ll let it slide.”

“OK.” Drew wasn’t so sure. That didn’t sound right. But his mind was in complete chaos and he couldn’t think right now. Grief, ragged and raw, was threatening to rise and suffocate him. Swallow him whole. “I gotta go home.”

“I’ll call you later. Have your cell handy.”

“Sure.”

He turned and left. Walked forever on shaking legs, the image of his dad, dead on the floor of his office, meshing with the memory of Carl shooting that man between the eyes. So much death and destruction.

For money. For ego.

Drew could’ve talked to his dad. Could’ve helped him. Should have.

Didn’t.

Those agonizing thoughts chased around and around in his tormented brain. Seizing him with an iron grip until he couldn’t think anymore.

He could never say a word. Never. He could not face what he’d done.

He’d let his own father die.

•   •   •

Shane paced until he couldn’t anymore. Then he settled on the sofa and flipped channels until the front door opened.

Daisy walked in, looking around. “He’s still not home?”

“No. I’ve called his cell a dozen times, but he must have it turned off.”

She came to sit by him, wrapping her arms around him. “He’ll be home soon. In the meantime, can I get you a beer?”

He thought about it. “Just one. I want to be lucid when he gets home. After he and I talk, we’ll revisit that idea.”

Melting into her, he kissed her long and passionately, giving in to his need to touch her. Hold her close. She healed him by just being near, and he couldn’t get enough. Slipping a hand behind her head, he grasped the tie of her conservative ponytail and worked it off, then raked the strands free. He loved it down.

“There. Much better.”

She smiled. “Let me get that beer, then I’ll change and start dinner. Anything you’re craving?”

“Besides you? Let me think . . . Nope.”

“Charmer.”

“Does that mean I’ll get lucky, then?”

She winked. “Maybe.”

He watched her go, mood lifted some. He liked having her here, liked that she’d moved in some of her things even though they were still living separately, for Drew’s sake. Drew was more receptive, too, ever since the cookout at Tommy and Shea’s place. If they could just get the boy on the right path, things would be looking up for them as a family.

Daisy returned, handing him the beer, then padded off. He thanked her as she left and sipped his beer, eventually letting his eyes close, drifting some as he heard pleasant cooking sounds coming from the kitchen. Good smells were coming from there when at last the door opened.

Across the room, he saw Drew step into the foyer and just stand there staring at him. Shane set his almost-empty beer on the coffee table and stood.

“We need to talk.”

The boy shuffled in, the slump in his posture telling Shane he knew he’d finally been busted. He said nothing, waiting. Shane noted his face was so pale he looked like he’d had the flu for a week. He certainly didn’t look like a young man who’d enjoyed skipping school.

“Where’s your backpack?”

His eyes widened as though he hadn’t given it a single thought all day. “I’m not sure. I think I left it in a friend’s car.”

“You think? What friend?”

“Alan.”

“All right. You’ll get it back from him tomorrow.” He paused, letting the boy stew for a long minute. “The school called today. Any idea what they had to say?”

Tucking his hands in his front pockets, Drew nodded. “They told you about me.”

“What about you?” He was determined to make the boy state what he’d done.

“I—I skipped school.”

“Not just once.”

“A few times,” he mumbled. Then he did the strangest thing—he walked to the window and slowly, carefully pulled back the curtains. Peered outside. He remained perfectly still.

Shane frowned. “What are you doing?”

Drew jumped back as if he’d been startled by the sound of Shane’s voice. “Sorry.”

“Why is your hand shaking?” His eyes narrowed. “What have you been doing all day?”