He went back to the table and sat down. “The subject was your dad.”
“It was. I told you all I know. I want to hear what happened after your arrest.”
“The case never went to trial. My lawyer negotiated a plea deal for me. Misdemeanor possession instead of a felony charge. He argued that the deputies had stopped me without probable cause. Which was true.
“It galled me to admit to doing something I hadn’t done, but they had the evidence, so I took the deal. I was resigned to spending at least a few months in county. But when it came time for sentencing, the judge called me, my attorney, and my uncle into his chambers. He offered me an alternative.”
“The army?”
“Good guess. The judge was a Vietnam veteran, very pro military, a hawk. He told my uncle that boot camp and a tough drill sergeant would have me whipped into shape in no time. It was quite a recruitment spiel, and Uncle Henry recognized the advantages. But he bargained for the charges to be dismissed.”
She sat back in her chair and shook her head with dismay. “You must have been so relieved.”
“Relieved, yeah, but I wasn’t let off the hook. Both my uncle and the judge put the fear of God in me. They warned me that if I didn’t apply myself, there would be hell to pay.”
Laughing quietly, she said, “I can’t believe it.”
“At the time, it was hard for me to take in, too. Everything happened fast. I was a couple of months shy of graduating high school, but passed all the exams and got my diploma. Next day, I was sent to basic training.”
“Applied yourself and returned twelve years later a hero.”
He shook his head and, speaking low, said, “Don’t mistake me for a hero.”
“People say you are.”
“Those who say that don’t know.”
Frowning with concentration, she said, “Well, I know one thing.”
“What’s that?”
“You’re unlike anyone else I’ve ever met.”
He wanted to ask her in what way he was unique, but was afraid of how she would answer. He broke her thoughtful stare to glance down at his watch. “It’s late.” He stood up. “I’ll lead you home.”
“That’s unnecessary.”
“The road is tricky in full daylight. In the dark, if you don’t know it well, you could wind up in a bayou.”
“I’ll manage.”
“Argument over.” He went to the door and pulled it open.
A few minutes later, her headlights were in his rearview mirror. If she fell too far behind, he slowed down until she caught up. When they reached her house, he got out of his truck and, despite her protests, walked her to the back door.
“These new locks are impossible,” she said as she worked the key into the slot.
“They’re meant to be.”
“For a bad guy, not for me.” The lock snapped, she swung the door open and poked her head inside. “See? No intruder lying in wait.”
He gave the small of her back a nudge, then followed her in, went around her, and checked out the rooms on the first floor, switching lights on, then off, as he made his way.
They met at the bottom of the staircase. “You didn’t look up there.” She pointed to the dark landing above.
“An intruder would have had to come in on the ground floor. Nothing’s been disturbed.”
“As noted earlier, you’ve been my only intruder.” She gave him a brief smile, then lowered her gaze to the placket of his shirt. “Will you be coming to work in the morning?”
“Not to restore, but to destroy?”
Still addressing his shirt, she said, “I suppose I do owe you an explanation for the switch.”
“Your sister told you last night you didn’t owe me a damn thing.”
“Well, she’s wrong.”
“Okay. I’m listening.”
“I’ll do my best to explain, but even I’m conflicted.”
“Over what?”
“It’s hard to put into words.”
“I don’t know that many anyway. Make it simple.”
She tugged her lower lip through her teeth. “It sounds so banal, but I came back to Penton to get closure. This house represents sorrow and heartache to me. If it comes down—”
“It won’t fix a damn thing. I don’t mean to interrupt, but, look, the house is a house. It’s made of destructible materials. All the shit that took place in it when you were a kid will be with you for the rest of your life. It’s not inside the house, it’s inside you. Curse it, accept it, and then turn your back on it.”
“I can do that with the shit I know,” she said. “It’s what I