Read Online The Buck Stops Here by Mindy Starns Clark - Free Book Online Page B

was never any moment where you didn’t see him?” I pressed. I had to be sure.
    “Nope. Lemme tell ya how it was,” Harry said, his voice warming to the tale. “My son and I was down at the river that day, trying out the new five-point seven-liter MerCruiser we put in our ski boat. When you folks came by, we had just put her in the water, and J.T. was parking the car. I was sitting there idling the boat when I heard that big sucker come roaring ’round the corner. I saw what was gonna happen, and sure enough it did. Pardon me, but the sound that boat made smacking into your husband’s body still gives me nightmares.”
    I swallowed hard, thinking, Me too.
    “Anyway, I didn’t even wait for J.T. I just slammed down the throttle and took off. I wasn’t sure how far I’d have to go, but then pretty soon the guy starts slowing down like nothing’s going on. He pulls into the Docksider and ties up. By the time I got out of my boat, he was walking up the dock.”
    “What happened then?”
    “Well, I was a wrestler in high school,” Harry said, “so I used some of my moves to get him down. He wasn’t nothing but a little guy anyway. I pinned him to the dock and held him there till we started drawing a crowd. A buddy of mine owns the Docksider, and I hollered for him to call the police, that we had ourselves a hit-and-run boat driver.”
    “So if it hadn’t been for you,” I said, “he would’ve gotten away.”
    “If it hadn’t been for me,” he said, “I don’t think that boy would’ve even known what he done. I said to him, ‘Didn’t you even hear that big thwack? Didn’t you feel it?’ He says, ‘I just thought I clipped a little driftwood.’”
    So it really wasn’t Tom who killed my husband, which had been my greatest fear. I breathed a deep, long sigh of relief.
    “You know, I was gonna testify and everything,” Harry said. “But then that fella pleaded guilty and they ended up not having a trial.”
    “Have you ever heard anything about him since?” I asked.
    “Nah. It’s old news now. He got a pretty stiff sentence from what I recall—though of course you know that. I ’magine he’s locked up tight over at the state penitentiary.”
    “I imagine so.”
    We talked a moment longer, but I had already learned what I needed to know. I thanked the man again and hung up, glad at least that I had been able to acknowledge the good he had done.
    I started up the car and drove to the police station, finding it tucked away on a little side street. It was a cute building, red brick with white trim and an American flag flying out front. I found parking at a meter down the block, and then I walked back toward the station, wishing I had kept my suit on after all. Somehow, I knew jeans wouldn’t make quite the same impression.
    I’m not sure what made me glance back over my shoulder as I turned to take the wide white steps to the main entrance. But look back I did, and I caught a glimpse of someone, a man, suddenly ducking into a doorway. I wouldn’t have thought twice about it, except for the fact that he hadn’t made his move until I turned my head. Feeling a deep sense of foreboding, I proceeded into the building. At least I would be safe inside a police station.
    At the front counter, I asked for Officer Darnell Robinson. A man pointed toward a fellow sitting at a desk not too far behind him.
    “Darnell!” he called. “Somebody here to see you.”
    The man looked up, the same officer I recognized from the newspaper photo. He stood and waved me over.
    “Can I help you?” he asked, looking as though he’d rather not help me. Mostly, he just looked tired.
    “Officer Robinson?” I said. “I wonder if I could talk to you for a moment.”
    “Sure,” he said, gesturing toward the chair that sat alongside his desk. “I’m off in about ten minutes, but I can help you if it’s quick. What can I do for you?”
    “My name is Callie Webber,” I said. “You probably don’t remember me,