Spare Change (Wyattsville #1)(79)

Eventually, a pool of tears rose to her eyes and without any reference to Scooter, she moaned, “But, what’s that got to do with Sam? He’d never get involved in such a thing. He has a bit of his daddy’s temper, but he’d never…”

“Apparently, Sam took it on himself to go over to Wyattsville— where Ethan Allen lives with his grandma—and according to the local police, he attacked the boy.” In an effort to soften the sound of what happened Jack deliberately worked in hope-rendering phrases such as apparently and according to.

“My Sam?” she gasped, “My sweet Sam, tried to hurt that little boy?”

“We don’t actually know what Sam’s intention was; the grandmother stopped him before he got hold of the kid.”

“So, Sam didn’t really do anything?” After thirty years of being married to Scooter, Emma was able to focus her eye on the one rose in a bush full of thorns.

Jack slowly shook his head, “No,” he said, “but, it appears he tried.”

Over the years, Emma had learned to live with Scooter Cobb’s meanness, but to have her son grow into the same nature was more than she could bear. She covered her face with her hands and began to cry with great shuddering sobs. There was nothing Jack could do but sit silently beside her. He waited a long while and then asked, “Emma, do you know if Sam was aware of Scooter’s involvement?”

She sat there for what seemed a very long time, her shoulders hunched, the round of her back shuddering like ground that might give way, and a flow of tears streaming from her eyes. Finally she said, “I’m the one who ought to be in jail. Me. I suspected what Scooter had done but I turned my face the other way. The truth was right there, raring up in front of me, but I kept saying to myself, such a thing couldn’t possibly be. He’s got faults, I figured, but something bad as this—never. I know I’ve been lying to myself; but how could I possibly open my mind to the truth when I knew it would destroy my family?”

“Emma,” Mahoney stammered, “…what is it you know?”

Without answering his question, she continued on, “I thought my silence would save what was left of my family; instead, it’s pushed the situation from bad to worse. I sure never thought it would happen this way. I love my boys, Sam and Tommy both. Those boys have been the light of my life and God knows I’d sooner carve out my own heart than do intentional harm to either one of them. I’m their mother—a mother suffers something fierce to bring her children into this world and she’d do most anything to keep those children from misery; you understand that don’t you, Jack?”

He nodded.

“I know meaning well, don’t excuse what I did. If I’d of told right off, Sam wouldn’t have been dragged into it. The law would’ve thrown Scooter’s ass in jail and that would’ve been the end of that. It’s where he ought to be. A man like him don’t deserve one ounce of consideration. Not an ounce. He was given two fine sons; boys who trusted he’d show them right from wrong and what did he do? He pointed them down the road to damnation, that’s what…” Emma gave her nose a noisy blow then took the balled up handkerchief in her hand and swiped at a fresh stream of tears rolling down her face. “Sam’s a victim,” she said, “You understand that don’t you? He’s a victim, not a criminal.”

“Emma,” Jack said, circling back to his original question, “What you’re apparently saying is that Scooter did have a hand in this, but what exactly is it that you’re hiding?”

“If I tell, you’ve got to arrest Scooter and put him in jail. If he’s not locked up, he’ll come back here and kill me. I know that for sure.”

“Once we’ve got a reasonable amount of evidence that he’s committed a crime he’ll be arrested; that’s something you don’t have to worry about.”

“Well, I am worried. Scooter’s got a mean disposition, meaner than you might imagine, and he’s got a God-awful temper. If he figures I’ve turned against him…”

“He’s not going to know it was you.”

“He’ll know; he’ll know because I’m the only one who’s got proof of what he’s done.”

“I’ll keep anything you say confidential.”

“I’m still not gonna tell unless you promise to lock Scooter away from me and Sam. He’s done enough harm to this family; it’s gotta stop here and now.”

“Emma, without knowing what you have to say, it’s almost impossible for me to promise you such a thing. But, if you tell me something that’s not enough to justify an arrest, I promise not to mention a word of what you’ve told me to anyone else. That way, your husband will never learn of our conversation.”

“I’m gonna trust you, Jack.”

“I respect that,” he said, giving her a nod of confidence.

Emma let go of a sigh weighted with all the heartaches she’d stored up—years and years of worry and regret, let loose in one sorrowful swoosh of air. “I know for certain Scooter killed that boy’s daddy,” she finally said. “Sam didn’t have a thing to do with it. It was just Scooter. Nobody else.” She nervously twisted the wet handkerchief in her hands.

“The night it happened, I was already in bed, fast asleep by time Scooter came home, so we didn’t catch sight of each other till morning. Even then, I didn’t see much of him ‘cause he had to get to the diner. It was Sunday, I know, ‘cause I always sort the laundry on Sunday and start my washing on Monday. Anyway, as he’s flying out the door, I tell him, ‘Be sure to leave your dirty shirt out.’ He calls back that his shirt don’t need washing, and keeps going. I remember it perfectly clear. I heard what he’d said, but I was thinking, that’ll be the day! Scooter’s a man who sweats buckets, if he wears a shirt for an hour, it needs washing.” Emma hesitated for a long moment, as if remembering something too private to share, then she continued on, “After he was gone, I went looking for that shirt and found it. He’d stuck it way back under the bed, so far back I had to get down on my hands and knees to reach. I got hold of the shirt and pulled it out, that’s when I saw it was covered with blood, not little speckles like he gets from cutting up meat, but enough blood to make me wonder if he’d butchered a cow.”