Sunken Graves by Alan Lee (thriller book recommendations .txt) 📕

was someone other than Lynch,” said Jennings, “what would we do?”

“If it was someone other than Lynch, I’d drive to his house right now and haul him out by his ear.”

“That’s outrageous!”

“Of course it is, Mr, Lewis,” said August. “Nothing about the justice system is just. I tried to explain this to Jennings earlier and now here we are again. This is a game of proof, and if you don’t play it right you’ll lose. His father’s the chief, His brother’s the judge. What do you have? You have your word against his, and you have what looks like entrapment and a pedestrian taking very ill-advised potshots. You have nothing proving all the other stuff. If we bring Lynch in, you’ll be in a mess up to your eyeballs and I’m not so sure you won’t get your asses kicked. I want you to win, not hurry.”

“What about the hair I pulled out?” Hathaway’s voice was soft.

“I know that was scary, Ms. Hathaway. And you did great. But a good lawyer like him can fight against it. If you insist, I’ll go bang on his door right now. I’m on your side. But you need to be sure, because Lynch has faced this before and he didn’t lose.”

Jennings said, “Do you have a better idea?”

“I have a suggestion.”

“We’re listening.”

“Give me a day. That’s my suggestion. Let me talk to a cop I know and an attorney. See what they say. I’ve been doing this long enough to know, if you rush then you lose. There’s a stupid way to do this and we need to know what that stupid way is and not do it.”

Hathaway searched Jennings’ eyes for wisdom. For courage. “What do you think?”

“I don’t know. But we could use more allies,” he said.

“Right about that.” Murray still stood in the corner. “Be nice if one of the allies was a brother.”

August said, “I’m not saying they’re allies. I’m saying they have experience and they do their job well.”

“Any of them black?” said Murray.

“In fact, yeah. The defense lawyer I mentioned, he’s black. He’s young and wild, but you can trust him.”

“Good. Could use another black man,” said Murray and August grinned.

Jennings said, “Okay, August. Talk to the people you mentioned and keep me posted.”

“Got a plastic baggie? That hair is evidence. I’ll give it to the cop I know and he’ll secure it in an evidence locker.” Hathaway stood and opened a drawer. August took a baggie from her. “This is a dangerous game. Sometimes they don’t end well.”

Hathaway said, “It wasn’t a game to Kelly Carson. She was just a teenager, Mr. August. She couldn’t run, not until it was too late. The next girl, her odds will be worse than ours.”

“If we run, we’re guilty. So I won’t,” said Jennings.

“What he’s saying, Mr. August, is that something’s wrong with the world. It’s broken,” said Lewis. “And we’re pressed against the brokenness and we have a choice. Mr. Lynch isn’t the source of brokenness, but he’s something broken about the world that can be fixed. And if we don’t, who are we? What will we do with the evil in front of us? That’s the choice.”

August said, “You’re speaking my language, Mr. Lewis. I’m buying everything you’re selling. This is what I do for a living. The only thing necessary for evil to triumph is for good men and women to do nothing, and all that. But, as you found out tonight, there is a cost. Are you ready to pay it?”

“I am,” said Jennings.

“But what if it isn’t you that’s gotta pay, Jennings? What if it’s someone else in the room?”

Jennings tried to answer but couldn’t. Tonight it’d been Hathaway.

“No one is forcing us,” said Lewis. “We volunteered.”

“It’s Lynch the one forcing us. My job’s already gone, he told me,” said Murray.

“Stay alive. Don’t. Die. You’re currently my favorite people in Roanoke.” August went to the door, holding the baggie of hair. “You got another phone?”

“Yes.” Hathaway nodded absently. “An old one.”

“Activate it. Stay near Jennings. You guys call me if you need me. I’m close.”

He left and the four in the kitchen didn’t speak. Gravid silence reigned.

35

The Monday before Thanksgiving was warm but Hathaway dressed in boots, slacks, long sleeves, and a scarf.

Old Monty’s office was a cacophony of ringing phones and jostling teachers and boys with issues. She checked her mailbox before class and discovered a new iPhone. Still sealed in the Apple box. Her stomach twisted. She glanced at the attached note to verify it was from Lynch. She crumpled the paper and deposited it into the trash. She wrote her own note, Merry Christmas! Attached it to the unopened phone and slid it into the custodian’s mailbox.

The day passed in a fog. She felt okay, retaining the strong notion Lynch had caused no lasting damage. What haunted her the most last night was the memory of gore leaking from his mouth.

Students left her classroom after the final bell and Dean Gordon stepped in. He closed the door.

Hathaway was weary of men coming into her room and closing the door. Daniel always left it open. Waited by it until invited.

“Ms. Hathaway. I need a moment.”

“Certainly, Mr. Gordon.”

He set his phone on a student desk. Took a moment to express regret. “Peter Lynch came by my office.”

Hathaway hadn’t eaten today, yet her stomach lurched again. What now.

“Alright,” she said.

“I’ll never pry into your private life, Ms. Hathaway. I don’t care who you date and it’s not my business what you do.”

Hathaway had the sensation she stood on a trapdoor and Gordon was waving the trigger at her.

“But, unfortunately, your date last night warrants a discussion,” he said.

“My date.”

“With Peter Lynch.”

She swallowed accumulating saliva. “What’d he tell you?”

“Did you know part of your date was being recorded?”

“What?”

“I’ll take that as a no.”

“What… Which part?”

“The end. In the car.”

“He recorded that? And played it for you? What’d you hear?” she said.

“Enough.” He pointed at both of his cheeks. “Mr. Lynch’s face looks rough, Ms.