Exposure by Susan Andersen Read Free Book Online Page B

agreed easily. He pulled his handcuffs from his belt and approached Elvis, who without argument stuck his hands out. Starting to put them on, the sheriff paused to look back at Overmyer. " 'Course, you might want to consider what Margaret's going to say," he advised. "She might have a few choice questions for you once she hears where your car was parked when Donnelly here took the hammer to it." He snapped the cuffs over Elvis' wrists. Then turning back to Overmyer, he said amiably, "But, hey, I'm sure you'll think of somethin' plausible to tell her."
    Overmyer had snapped upright and was regarding him in alarm. "You can't tell Margaret where the car was parked!" he protested.
    "I don't aim to," Bragston retorted calmly. "But use your head, Lee. Pressing charges means going down to the station and filling out a report. There are people at the station, and just so you understand this right up front, when it comes to my reports I give special consideration to no man. It either gets filled out entirely or it doesn't get filled out at all."
    He could almost see the wheels turning in the other man's head. Hell, I can get away with it, Overmyer was thinking. Then, Shit, no, I'll never get away with it.
    "Give it careful consideration," Bragston advised, "because you're going to be stuck with the results of whatever you decide. It's a small island." He disguised his impatience. Hell in a wheelbarrow, Lee was a native, and anyone who had lived here his entire life shouldn't have to be reminded of the obvious. Then again, Overmyer hadn't exactly ever been known for his mental wizardry. The sheriff shrugged. "Hell, man," he said, "you know as well as I do, there are damn few secrets on Flannery. Word tends to get around."
    Overmyer gave Elvis a bitter look. "Yeah, and I suppose in this case it's pretty much guaranteed to."
    The look Elvis returned didn't contain cocky triumph. Instead, it was filled with contempt. "Don't look at me, you scum sucker," he snarled. "Mrs. Overmyer's always been real nice to me." And people like that weren't so thick on the ground he could afford to deliberately hurt one. "She ain't gonna hear nothin' 'bout this from me."
    "Well, there you go," Bragston said cheerfully. "Maybe no one down at the station will say anything either." He jerked his head at Elvis. "Let's go, son."
    Elvis straightened away from the car hood and followed Bragston over to the department vehicle. He'd already climbed into the back seat when Overmyer blew out a gusty sigh of disgust and said, "Let him go."
    "It's probably for the best," the sheriff agreed. "And, Lee, the kid here will pay whatever damages your insurance deductible doesn't cover."
    "The hell you say." Elvis snapped to attention. The look he gave the sheriff was incredulous. "If no charges are gonna be pressed against me, why the hell should I pay a dime to this clown?"
    Sheriff Bragston looked him coolly in the eye. "Because it's the right thing to do," he said, and that stopped Elvis in his tracks. No one had ever expected him to do the right thing before; usually their expectations were just the opposite.
    "I don't have a job," he muttered, sulky because it was yet another sore subject. He had tried to get after-school or weekend work, but no one wanted to take a chance on hiring him. He was poor white trash. Glaring at the sheriff as if the dearth of employment opportunities were the man's fault, he held out his hands for Bragston to remove the cuffs, but the sheriff simply slammed the car door, sealing him inside.
    "Hey!"
    "You've got a job," Bragston said, climbing into the driver's seat and firing up the ignition. "Starting as of now, you're working for me." He twisted around to pin Elvis in place with the sternness of his gaze. "And if you think this is charity work I'm offering here, kid, then think again, 'cause it ain't. I expect an hour's work for an hour's pay, and if you can't hack it, boy, your narrow butt's out the door and I'll get someone who