Joel’s breath caught on a shaky gasp, as he tried to suck the air down into his lungs so he could find his voice to plead with his father not to do whatever it was he was about to do. But before he could get a word out, Jimmy shoved Joel forward, closer to the table, and said to the man with the frenzied eyes, “Paul, it’s so nice to see you again.”
Mr. Stevens—Paul—was looking between father and son now, and when his eyes found Joel’s, they had a desperate edge in them, as though Joel, a seven-year-old, would somehow be able to save Paul from whatever Jimmy had planned.
“I believe you know my son.”
When Paul didn’t answer, Victor grabbed a handful of the teacher’s sandy hair and jerked his head back so he was looking at Jimmy, not Joel.
“I said, do you know my son?”
“Yes…of course,” Paul said, and nervously licked his top and bottom lip.
“Then you know who I am?” Jimmy asked, and Paul tried to move, but Victor tightened both holds. “I recommend you stay still. He’s strong enough to snap your neck.” Paul froze. “Back to the question. Do you know who I am?”
“Ye-ye-yes,” Paul said, and Jimmy nodded as he moved closer to the table, prodding Joel in the shoulder so he too had to move. “You’re Joel’s father. We were supposed to meet for his parent/teacher talk.”
“That’s correct,” Jimmy said, the knife in his hand gleaming as he walked over to the table. “I’m also the man you stole from two weeks ago. The man whose drugs you are trying to sell for profit. Ring any bells?”
As Paul began to shake his head, Victor grabbed the rope from the table and began to tie Paul’s arm to the chair.
“No, no, you don’t have to do that,” Paul said. “This is a mistake. I didn’t do what you’re saying.” He tried to pull his arm free, his watch catching on the sunlight and lighting the place up like a beacon.
“Really?” Jimmy said. “Because I spoke to someone a week ago who told me that one of the school teachers in town sold them some of my drugs for a much steeper price, claiming they were better than Donovan’s. Imagine my surprise when I found out it was my son’s teacher.”
Joel frantically tugged on his father’s arm then, not caring if Jimmy got mad because he interrupted—Joel wanted to do something to distract his father and maybe save Paul from whatever was about to happen.
But Jimmy was focused. There was no swaying him.
“Why would you do something so stupid, Paul?” Jimmy asked, as Victor moved to stand behind him.
“I…I told you,” Paul said. “It wasn’t me. Why would I do that, when I know Joel’s your son? I’m just a…just a school teacher.”
“I don’t think so. But this will be the final lesson you teach, that I promise you,” Jimmy said, and turned to look down at Joel. “This man, he tried to steal from us. From you and me, Joel, and us Donovans? We can’t allow that.”
Joel shook his head violently, even as it began to spin and the warm wetness of his pants became more pungent and uncomfortable in the humidity-soaked air.
“Please, Dad. Don’t hurt him,” Joel said, trying to think of some way to appeal to the human part of Jimmy that might still exist under the monster. But those cold grey eyes held no emotion. They were lifeless, so frightening that Joel dropped his father’s arm and stumbled back a step.
“It’s time for you to understand who I am, who you are in this town, Son. You’re a Donovan.”
As Jimmy walked around the table, Paul looked to Joel one more time. “Help me. Please, Joel. I didn’t do this.”
But Joel knew there was nothing he could do. Just as there was no way he could make his legs listen to his brain and help him escape. He was too scared to do anything other than stand there, glued to the spot by the fear of what was both inside and outside the shack.
“I’ll never understand why people do things that will likely get them killed,” Jimmy said as he stopped by the arm that was secured to the chair. “It makes no sense to me. But maybe you can help. Why did you do this, Paul? Was it the money? Or were you high off your face?”
Paul looked up to Jimmy, and as sweat and tears streaked his face, he shuddered.
“No answer?” Jimmy said.
Paul’s eyes flew to the knife that was now glinting in the sun where Jimmy was angling it for the best reflection, taunting his victim.
“Maybe we can convince you to be a little more honest. Isn’t that what you’d want from your students? Honesty?”
Paul shook his head, blinking madly to try and stave off the tears. “I…I didn’t do it.”