Trial by Fire (7 page)

“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 I’m going to write up a report
and keep an eye out for the kid you described.”

“What if I see him again?”

“Call us.” He seemed impatient to go.

“Wait,” I said again. He shot me a look of undiluted annoyance. “Aren’t you going
to give me your card?”

“I’m all out.”

“Your name then?”

He looked me in the eye. “Shears. Brian Shears.”

He walked across to the Winters’s stall and spoke to Ted Winters, who shook his head.
He approached
another stall, and then another. All he got in return was more head-shaking.
Meanwhile, Aram and I cleaned up the mess and packed our things. By then everyone
else was winding down too. Aram offered me a ride home, but I decided to stay behind.

I was angry. Officer Shears couldn’t have been less helpful if he’d tried. I didn’t
know what his problem was, but there was no way I was going to let the incident slide.
I went from stall to stall and talked to the people who were packing up for the day.
Some people seemed sincere when they told me they’d been surprised to glance over
and see everything on the ground. Some were too far away to have noticed the commotion.
But there were other people, people whose booths were close by, who seemed less than
genuine when they said they’d seen nothing amiss. Some of them didn’t look me in
the eye when they spoke to me. None of them had any idea who the tall boy was that
I described to them, even though most of them had signs that advertised their farms
as being in Moorebridge. Were they some of the people who wouldn’t have lifted a
finger to call the fire department? What did they have against Mr. Goran?

SEVEN

I walked up and down every street and alley in town, but I didn’t see the tall boy
or any of his friends. Or the girl who had silently watched the whole thing.

When I finally gave up, exhausted, I realized that I would have to walk home—unless
I asked Aunt Ginny for a ride. After the mood she’d been in the night before, I decided
to take the exercise option.

By the time I reached our driveway, I was sticky and sweaty. I let myself into the
house, had a shower, got something to eat and stretched out on a chaise under a massive
oak tree behind the house. I didn’t budge until Aunt Ginny shook me awake.

“I’ve been calling you,” she said. “I even tried your cell.”

“It’s in the house. What time is it?”

“After six. I bought chicken. Let’s get supper ready.”

When Aunt Ginny buys chicken, she doesn’t mean chicken that you can roast or fry.
She means a ready-to-eat chicken. If I’m lucky, it’s barbecued chicken from a grocery
store. If I’m unlucky, it’s fried chicken pieces from a fast-food joint. This time
it was a barbecued chicken. We made a salad to go with it and ate on the patio.

“Did you find the dog beater?” I asked.

“As a matter of fact, I did. One good thing about a small town: there’s always someone
who notices something.” That sure hadn’t been my experience, not today anyway. “I
kept asking around until I found a woman who’d heard about someone who supposedly
said something to someone else about hearing a dog yelping as if it was being beaten.
I tracked down that person, and she pointed me to a man who heard his neighbor’s
dog yowling a few nights ago. I showed him a picture, so I knew it was his neighbor’s
dog. When I talked to the neighbor, he said his dog had run off. He also said he
knew nothing about any beating and that someone
else must have hurt the dog after
it ran away. But I finally got him to confess.”

“How?”

Aunt Ginny grinned. “I told him what a pain dogs are and how much I hated having
to chase them down to satisfy people like the mayor’s wife who put animal welfare
above people welfare. Then I told him about a dog I had once that never shut up and
how I’d got a friend of mine to drive it far away and dump it so I could tell my
parents he’d run away.” I must have looked horrified, because she added, “Relax,
Riley. I was spinning him a story. And it worked. He told me what a pain his dog
was and that it needed a few smacks from time to time to learn who was boss. I arrested
him.”

“But you lied to him!”

“Standard operating procedure—deceit in the name of justice. Cops do it all the time.”

“But you’re the good guys. At least, some of you are.”

“Sometimes the good guys have to trick the bad guys in order to catch them.” She
paused and frowned. “What do you mean by
some of you
?”

I told her what had happened at the market.

“You didn’t tell me you were helping Aram. The note just said you were going into
town.”

“And I did—to help. But those kids ruined everything, and that cop didn’t take it
seriously.”

“Did you get his name?”

“Shears.”

She looked surprised. “I know him. He seems okay.”

“People aren’t always what they seem. Isn’t that what you told me, Aunt Ginny?”

“I didn’t mean cops. But I’ll talk to him the next time I see him. I promise.” She
stood up to clear the table. “So, what do you want to do tonight? Are you up for
a movie?”

“Actually, Aunt Ginny…” I told her about the party Ashleigh had invited me to.

“I don’t know if that’s a good idea, Riley. I don’t know any of these kids. And after
that concussion—”

“The doctor says I’m fine. And how am I going to meet any kids if I don’t get out
there? I don’t want to show up at school as a complete stranger.”

“But you don’t know what goes on at these parties. Or how old some of the kids might
be. Or what they might get into. There’s no way I’m going to let you ride
home with
someone who’s been drinking or indulging in anything that could cloud his or her
judgment. You’re
my
responsibility.”

“Come on, Aunt Ginny. You know I’d never do anything that would get me into trouble.”

She arched an eyebrow.

“It’s just a bunch of kids getting together. If you drive me into town, you can meet
Ashleigh, the girl who invited me. And I promise I’ll call you when the party is
over so you can come and get me. Please, Aunt Ginny?”

“I don’t know…”

“I won’t do anything stupid. I promise.”

She thought it over for an agonizingly long time before she finally said, “Before
I make a final decision, I get to ask Ashleigh a few questions. Deal?”

As if I had a choice.

We got to the supermarket just before nine. Ashleigh was closing out her cash drawer.
She smiled when she saw me.

“I’m glad you came,” she said.

I hoped she would feel the same way after she met my aunt.

“You must be Ashleigh,” Aunt Ginny said before I could speak. “I’m Detective McFee.”

I could have strangled her. Why couldn’t she be just my aunt for once?

“Detective?” Ashleigh cast a troubled glance at me.

“My aunt is a cop.” I hoped the tone of my voice conveyed that I was sorry I hadn’t
mentioned this fact earlier.

“I am indeed. What’s your full name, Ashleigh?” She asked the question in her slightly
intimidating on-duty cop voice.

“Um…” Ashleigh glanced at me again. She was probably sorry she had ever met me. “Wainwright,
Ashleigh Marie Wainwright.”

“The pharmacist down the street is named Wainwright,” Aunt Ginny said.

“That’s my dad. And my mom. They’re both pharmacists.”

Aunt Ginny nodded her approval. “Do they know you’re planning to go to a beach party?”

“Yes.”

“So if I were to ask them, they wouldn’t be surprised?”

“No.” Ashleigh looked perfectly calm now. “I go to beach parties all the time.”

“How long have you been working here?”

“Since school ended in June. I’m hoping to stay on part-time after the summer. My
parents think jobs teach kids the value of money and how to handle it properly.”

Aunt Ginny liked that answer too. “Very sensible. All right then. I’ll pick you up
at eleven o’clock, Riley.”

“Eleven? Things will just be getting started,” Ashleigh said. “I don’t have to be
home until one.”

Up went Aunt Ginny’s left eyebrow. “That seems late for someone your age.”

“We live right near the beach. My parents can practically see what we’re doing from
their bedroom window. Please don’t make Riley leave so early. If you’re worried,
she can stay over at my place afterward.” She looked at me. “You want to?”

“Sure. And I’ll call you as soon as we get back there,” I promised Aunt Ginny.

She thought this over. “I suppose I can always call Ashleigh’s parents.” She made
it sound like a threat.

“The pharmacy is probably closing right now, which means they should be home by ten.”
Ashleigh grabbed a piece of cash-register tape and scrawled on it. “Here’s our phone
number.”

Aunt Ginny stared at the slip of paper and then at me. “I
will
make that call,” she
said.

“So it’s all okay? Riley can stay over?” Ashleigh smiled at me. “Great. Thanks.”

Aunt Ginny gave a curt nod. “But I’ll expect to hear from you the minute you’re back
at Ashleigh’s,” she said to me. “And make that call from her home phone, not your
cell phone, understand?”

I said yes. She told me to keep my wits about me and left.

“Wow,” Ashleigh said as she watched her go. “A cop for an aunt. That’s like having
a prison guard in the family, isn’t it?”

“Yeah. Kind of.”

“What’s with the calling from my home phone? Have you used up all your minutes on
your cell-phone plan?”

If only. “It’s so she can know exactly where I am, which is impossible with a cell
phone. If I call from your home phone, she’ll know I’m at your house.”

“Ouch,” Ashleigh said. “Promise me you won’t say anything about that to my parents
when you meet them, okay?”

I wanted to make friends, not lose them. I promised.

The beach was deserted except for a few couples walking hand in hand in the last
moments of sunset.

“Where is everybody?” I asked.

Ashleigh laughed. “You don’t have a beach party where everyone—especially adults—can
see it.”

“But you told my aunt—”

“—that you could see the party from my house? You can—if you go up on the roof with
a pair of binoculars. Don’t worry. There’s never any trouble. Nothing bad is going
to happen.”

As we walked along the beach, the houses on the shore got farther and farther apart.
After we rounded a point, there was just shore and beach and woods.

“The conservation area starts just there.” Ashleigh pointed to a sign up ahead. “There
are no houses or cottages on this side of the point.”

But there was a blazing fire out on the sand, where, accompanied by the beat of music,
dozens of kids had gathered. Some were sitting in the glow of the flames, some were
standing, a few were dancing. When we got closer, Ashleigh shouted a greeting. Two
girls detached themselves from the group and came to meet her. Ashleigh introduced
me to her “friends since we were kids”—Taylor Martin, pale and wispy with long blond
hair, and Madison Smith.

Madison was raven-haired and slender. She was also the girl at the market who had
seen my stall getting trashed.