Trial by Fire by Norah McClintock Read Free Book Online Page A

the cops—well, Aunt Ginny—and I
started to dig my cell phone out of my pocket. But someone grabbed it from me—I didn’t
see who—and someone else shoved me aside. Again, I didn’t see who. I glanced around,
but the boys who were standing farther away from the table had formed a kind of screen,
blocking my stall from view and stopping everyone except the girl from seeing what
they were doing, and she was only able to see because she had moved in closer.
    I started to elbow through the boys to get help. Someone grabbed me from behind and
held me back. I kicked him. He yowled but didn’t let go. I struggled as basket after
basket of produce was reduced to pulp before my eyes. Someone else shouted.
    “Hey, what’s going on there?”
    The boys drifted away, keeping their backs to the rows of stall. A man rushed up
to me and asked if I was okay. He offered to call the police, but I said I would
handle it. Ted Winters, across the way, stared wide-eyed at the destruction. He turned
to search out the boys, who by then had disappeared from view. He started to come
out of his own stall but then abruptly stopped.
    “What happened?” said someone behind me. It was Aram. He was carrying a frosty bottle
of lemonade. He handed it to me as he took in the devastation. “Who did this?”
    “Some kids.” I located my cell phone in a puddle of smashed tomatoes and wiped it
off with a paper bag. “I’m calling the police.”
    Aram looked at the curious faces of shoppers and the hard faces of the neighboring
stallholders. I think we both saw the uniformed police officer at the same time.
He stopped at Mr. Winters’s booth. Mr. Winters pointed to ours. The cop frowned,
took in the scene and came across to us.
    “What happened here?” he asked.
    I glanced at Aram, who nodded at me and said, “Tell him what you just told me.”
    I repeated what I’d already said. “Some kids trashed our stall.”
    The cop bent down and picked up the sign that lay on the ground. “Goran, huh? Not
the same Goran that set fire to his barn.”
    “My father’s barn burned down, if that’s what you mean,” Aram said stiffly.
    “And now some kids are giving you a hard time. Don’t suppose you know their names?”
    “I wasn’t here when it happened.”
    “So no description of these kids either?” Maybe I was imagining things, but he didn’t
seem as interested as I knew Aunt Ginny would have been under the same circumstances.
    “ I was here,” I said. “And I would definitely recognize the ringleader if I saw
him again.”
    The cop gave me a slow once-over. “Are you a Goran too?”
    “No. I’m a Donovan. You probably know my aunt, Virginia McFee.”
    The cop’s eyes narrowed. “McFee?”
    “She’s a detective.” I held up my cell phone. “Maybe I should call her.”
    “You may not be able to reach her. The animal crime around here is keeping her pretty
busy.” His lips twitched as he tried to keep from laughing. That made me angry.
    “Then maybe I should go to the police station myself and file a complaint,” I said. “Maybe
I’ll get lucky and find a police officer who at least tries to do his job.”
    The cop’s face turned red. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a notebook.
“Why don’t you tell me all about this alleged attack on your vegetables?”
    I told him everything I could—the number of kids who had surrounded the table, a
description of the tall kid, what he’d said, what they’d all done.
    “Any witnesses?”
    “They surrounded the table so that no one could see what they were doing. But you
could ask around.” Then I remembered. “There was a girl. She saw everything.”
    “What girl?”
    “I don’t know her name.”
    “Is there anything else you can tell me?”
    “No.”
    He flipped his notebook shut. “Thank you for your cooperation.” He turned to go.
    “Wait a minute,” I said. “You’re not leaving, are you?”
    “I’m going to see if I can scare up any witnesses. Then