His face was drawn, older looking than Caleb had ever seen it.
They came last night, Vernon said. It wasn't a question. Yeah. And you gave them what they wanted. Some of it.
Vernon's jaw tightened. Caleb, I need you to understand something. I built this business from nothing. 30 years of work, and I can't lose it because my nephew decided to play hero. I didn't decide anything.
A man was dying, and now you're in bed with the Hells Angels and on the bad side of a corrupt sheriff. Vernon's voice rose. Do you get how that ends? It ends with you dead and me losing everything because I'm associated with you. The words stung, but Caleb kept his voice level.
So, what do you want me to do? I want you to leave. Today. Right now. Vernon pulled an envelope from his pocket and thrust it at Caleb.
There's a thousand dollars in there. Take it, take your truck, and go. California, New Mexico, Texas, I don't care. Just get far away from here. Caleb took the envelope, feeling its weight.
A thousand dollars. His severance package and ticket out. And if I don't? Then you're fired anyway, and you got nothing. Vernon's voice cracked.
I'm sorry, kid. I really am. But, I got to protect what's mine. I get it. And strangely, Caleb did.
Vernon wasn't a bad man, just a scared one. I'll be out by noon.
Packing didn't take long. 19 years of life fit into two duffel bags and a backpack. Caleb loaded them into his truck, a '98 Ford Ranger that ran more on prayer than gasoline, and took one last look at the trailer that had been home. He was pulling out of the lot when a white Crown Victoria with a light bar on top pulled in, blocking his exit. Sheriff Dalton stepped out, and Caleb's hand instinctively moved toward the gun hidden under his seat.
Dalton was tall, clean-shaven, with the kind of face that probably looked trustworthy to most people. But, his eyes were flat and empty as he approached Caleb's truck. Caleb Hayes, Dalton said pleasantly. Mind if we talk for a minute? Every instinct screamed at Caleb to gun it to smash through the fence and run.
But running would confirm everything. So he forced himself to nod. Sure, Sheriff.
Dalton leaned against the truck, casual as anything. Hell of a thing yesterday, that accident. Yeah. Paramedics tell me you saved that biker's life. That was real brave.
Just did what anyone would do. Not anyone. Dalton's smile didn't reach his eyes. Most people would have called 911 and waited, but you got right in there. Got yourself all bloody.