“Damned if I’ll ever get used to explosions again,” I said, just to say something.
We watched as the last of the men cleared out of the barn and drove their 4x4s in the direction of Winifred’s house, where they’d set up the controls. It was soon now.
I wiped a rag over my forehead, which felt sweaty and cold. Bud let out a long, loud breath.
“Don’t suppose you’ve got any of that confiscated booze around here.”
I was surprised—Bud didn’t drink. “I don’t. No one’s been on the water yet this year. And usually the boys’ll split whatever we do take. It doesn’t last long.”
“Probably best anyway. It’s just . . . I can’t . . .”
“I know.”
“You don’t know.” He shook his head and his eyes seared into the barn. He wouldn’t look away from it.
“You don’t know the first thing about having your daughter’s life ripped away from you, making you feel about as powerless as a gnat. And then to find out she was sleeping with her teacher—her married teacher. It was like I didn’t know her at all. I didn’t know my own flesh and blood.”
“Hogwash. Course you knew her. She was a teenager, Bud. They think they’re in love and do stupid things. They all snap out of it eventually. Hattie would have, too.”
“And him.” His rage took over again.
“I sat across from him at Hattie’s conferences not two months ago and listened to him tell us what a bright, talented girl she was. And all the while he had his dirty hands under her skirt. God, he should rot in prison his whole life just for that. But then to take her life . . . to stab her in her heart . . .”
Bud’s entire body was shaking now, the anger was pure and boiling in him and it had nowhere to go.
“It’s not enough, Del. Prison’s not enough. I need to do something to him. I want to throw him in that barn right now. I want that son of a bitch blown into fish bait for what he did.”
“Bud—” I didn’t know what I was going to say. I didn’t know if there was anything to say to something like that, but it didn’t matter because the blast tore open the morning sky.
The barn exploded in a series of flashes and flying wood, then the smoke billowed out, hiding everything. Without thinking, I had snapped my hand to my holster and crouched behind the windshield of the boat. Bud didn’t seem to notice. As the smoke drifted away and the smell of dynamite singed the air, I eased up a little and took us closer to the shore. These demolition guys knew what they were doing. The barn was now a scrap heap of wood and rubble, half on land and half caught in their giant net.
After a few minutes, the 4x4s returned and waved toward the boat to let us know we were all clear.
“Well, that’s that.” I started to turn the boat around when Bud leaned over the side.
“Wait.”
He pointed at the water. Two sunnies had bubbled up to the surface, dead as doornails. As we stood there, another popped up. Then another.
“There. Over there.”
“Look at that one. He must be a three-pounder, at least.”
All around us, fish floated on their sides, their silver bellies shining like a hundred streaks of light in the morning sun. We couldn’t count them all. They were everywhere.
“Must have been the shock wave.” I’d felt it go through me, but assumed it was as much in my head as anyplace else. Seeing all these dead fish, though, well, it took the thing out of me. The tremors were already gone.
We stood side by side, staring at the water.
“Let’s go grab a drink, all right?”
“Mmm.”
I turned us away from the floating fish bodies and the demo crew swarming around the rubble, pointing the boat back to the launch. Just as we docked, dispatch came over the radio.
“We’ve got a ten-fifty-two involving two vehicles out on highway twelve, right along the stretch by the lake. Del, are you still in the water?”
“Just getting out, Nance. I’ll be there directly.” I was already halfway to the cruiser. “Sorry, Bud. You’ll have to come along and sit tight, unless you want to stay here. I’m sure Mona’d come by to pick you up.”
But he was already in the passenger seat, buckling up. I hit the lights and gunned past the line of cars. A few of the watchers swung their binoculars on us.
“What’s a ten-fifty-two?”
“A crash with injuries.”
It didn’t take long to find the accident. A semi was halfway to jackknifed on the shoulder and the driver stood nearby, frantically waving us down. As we pulled up, the pickup underneath the semi became visible, or what was left of it anyway. It was one of those monster-truck types by the look of it—a modified F150.
I parked the cruiser in the middle of the lane to keep traffic to the left.
“He ran right into me.” The driver started in as soon as I opened the door. “There was this huge freaking boom and then this truck came at me. I couldn’t get out of the way.”
“What are you hauling back here?” I checked his fuel line to make sure it was intact.
“Produce. Strawberries from California.” He stopped outside the wreckage, leaving me to work my way under the belly of the semi.
“Hello there! Sheriff Goodman here. Can you hear me?”
There was no answer.
I saw a pair of boots walking around the far side of the truck.
“Del!” It was Bud.