“You son of a bit—” This time even Carly can’t hold him back. Arden flings himself over the counter. His father moves out of the way just as Arden slams into the fridge. Smooth as butter, Arden is pressed against the fridge, his father’s hand tight around his throat.
“How many times do we have to do this, Arden?” his father growls in his ear. “Why the back-and-forth? Why the battle?”
“I’m not Amber,” Arden chokes out. “I won’t give up.” His father could control Amber with words, and if not words, then actions like these. He can’t control Arden, and it eats at him, Arden knows.
Arden hears the sound of metal scraping against … what? Then clink clink clink.
“Let him go,” Carly says. He peers around his dad’s shoulder and his stomach drops. Carly has the granddaddy of all kitchen knives in her hand. Clink clink clink. She taps it against the counter. Then she points it at a bemused Sheriff Moss.
“Carly, don’t,” Arden pleads. Even with the knife, he knows his father can overtake Carly. And because she’s pulled the knife, he can hurt her and get away with it. His father knows all the gray-shaded boundaries of the law. He’ll cry self-defense. He’ll cry breaking and entering. He’ll cry anything he needs to cry to win.
The same way he cried at Amber’s funeral without feeling a thing.
“Are you attempting to assault an officer, young lady?” His father laughs. “You’re making it too easy for me.”
“I’m Mexican, remember? We’re experts at butchering pigs, Sheriff.” Still, she takes a step backward—much to Arden’s relief. The knife trembles in her hand. If Arden sees it, his father sees it. His father sees everything.
The sheriff tilts his head at her, but doesn’t loosen his grip on Arden. “You’d better be ready to use that.”
Carly’s jaw clenches and unclenches. Her eyes glisten but she doesn’t yield to the tears threatening to spill out. She blinks once, twice. Lowers the knife slightly. “Let him go. Please.”
Arden feels as deep as a shot glass. She’s trying to protect me. This is all backward. “He won’t hurt me,” Arden tells her. “Just put the knife down.” Please God, make her put the knife down.
The sheriff snorts. “This is getting exciting, isn’t it, Carly? Tell you what. For showing a little spine, I’ll let you walk out of here. Go on. Don’t let the door hit you where the Good Lord split you.”
She takes another step back, giving Arden an apologetic look. “I can’t … I’m not leaving without Arden.”
Arden struggles against his father, but the sheriff tightens his grip to the point of cutting off air. “Just let her go,” Arden gets out between gasps.
“I tried to, son. Seems she’s too ignorant to recognize an opportunity when it presents itself.”
“Aren’t you an elected official?” Carly says, her voice barely above a whisper. “You don’t need a scandal like this on your hands. Think about everything I’ll say to the press.”
His father stiffens then. It’s the best possible thing Carly could have said. Even though her body language screams that she’s bluffing. “It’s your word against mine, now, isn’t it? You think anyone with a brain will believe you over me?”
His father is right. No one would believe Carly, even if Arden backed up the story. Even if they did, his father has connections everywhere, at every level of government. Relationships he’s built over decades of time served. But Carly has him by the balls right now. Because no matter what happens to her, this incident would be plastered all over the news. Carly has a bagful of seeds in her hands. Seeds of doubt. And it’s something the sheriff won’t—and has never—risked. The smallest chance that this could tarnish his reputation has Sheriff Moss backed into a corner.
The conundrum is all over the sheriff’s face. Arden takes advantage of his father’s now-relaxed grasp. “We’d be willing to find out, wouldn’t we, Carly?” Arden says, breathless. “All she has to do is snap a pic of us right now with her phone, right? A nice little Moss family photo.”
Arden and Carly both know she doesn’t have a phone. But his dad doesn’t. To his father, words are bad enough. But pictures? Those are much more difficult to explain away. With a disgusted snarl, the sheriff abruptly releases Arden and shoves him toward Carly. “Get out of my house. Don’t you ever bring that tramp here again, you understand?”
Carly begins to back toward the exit to the kitchen, keeping the knife in position. Arden rushes to her, putting himself between her and his father. Together, they edge toward the front door, never turning their backs on the threshold of the kitchen. Carly is shaking badly; the knife wobbles in her hand now. She doesn’t need it anymore, Arden knows. His father will let them leave. This situation is over.
Maybe she’s going to use it on me when we get in the truck.
Nineteen
“Well, that was traumatizing,” I say, slamming the truck door behind me. I buckle up as quickly as possible, laying the knife carefully on the seat between us. My heart thumps in a wild rhythm. I hope Arden doesn’t notice that I’m about to shake out of my own clothes. “We’re dumping this. Tonight.” I can’t believe the words coming out of my mouth. Not now, not thirty seconds ago in the Moss residence kitchen.
Ohmigod ohmigod ohmigod. I just pulled a knife on the sheriff of Houghlin County—the extremely prejudiced sheriff of Houghlin County. How could Arden have grown up in this kind of environment and not be at least a little racist himself? Or is he?