Chapter 28
There’s a silver BMW in the driveway when I step off the bus that afternoon. Dad parked his truck to the side, under the row of ponderosa pines, which means he knew this person was coming.
I take my time walking around the car. The hood is still warm, and since the windows are heavily tinted, I have to shield my eyes and lean in. Red leather gloves and a matching scarf lay on the passenger seat. Amelia.
Racing toward the door, I fling it open, nearly crashing into Amelia’s grandmother.
She looks down her nose at me. “Darcie.”
“Uh. Hi.” I back up and drop my bag. “Is Amelia here too?”
She straightens her collar, and her face changes drastically from scorn to welcome. “Not this time, dear. She won’t even be home for another…” She checks her watch with the diamond watchband, “twenty minutes.”
Mom swoops in, a black fur coat draped over her arm. “Why don’t we all move to the living room? Can I get you something to drink? Coffee? Water? A soft drink?”
The older woman shakes her head, “No, thank you, dear.”
Around the corner, Dad appears, wiping his hands on his jeans. “Just putting some logs on the fire, chilly day. Came home early to catch the sheriff’s press conference,” he says. “Good to finally meet you, Mrs. Davis.”
“Please call me Genevieve.” Her smile softens her face.
“I appreciate all that you did to find our Amelia. I’m eternally indebted to you, and I thought it was time that I called on you to express my sincere gratitude.” She lowers herself onto the sofa, tucking her legs to the side. Her pink wool suit precisely matches her shoes, hat, and gloves, flawlessly put together, just like Amelia. I glance down at my brown corduroys and green sweater.
Genevieve pats the cushion beside her. “Darcie, please sit next to me. I’m afraid we got off on the wrong foot when we met in the hospital.” Her hand brushes across her forehead. “All of this has been very stressful for me—as it has been for you and your family. How are you doing with school?”
“It’s…good,” I say, even though it’s not the best. “People are really glad to see me back—Amelia too. Her cast is like-packed with signatures.”
She raises an eyebrow. “Yes. I’m aware of that. Fortunately, a long skirt can cover the graffiti.”
“I know, right? You’d hardly know she had a cast at all.”
She smiles and pats my knee. “You’re just delightful.”
I sit up straighter, brushing away Mrs. Duncan’s comment about the bullfrog. “I’m really glad you came this afternoon, Mrs. Davis. I want people to understand what really happened in the mountains. Grover was kind to us. He saved us—especially Amelia. I know she told you that.”
Genevieve stiffens slightly, then relaxes. “I understand that you’re grateful to him, Darcie. Anyone would be, especially considering what you went through.” She lays a gloved hand on my knee, “Grover may have shown you kindness at times, but kindness doesn’t erase what happened.”
“But it does show that he’s not a bad person.” I shift my leg so her hand falls away. “A bad person wouldn’t have saved us from the blizzard, or sat up all night making sure Amelia’s leg was okay.”
Mom rises from her chair and moves next to me. I lean into her, feeling her warmth steady my thoughts.
Genevieve removes her pink leather gloves, tugging at the tip of each finger until her hands are free. Her polished nails are the exact color of her suit. “No one is saying that Grover is a bad person, dear. But you’re letting your feelings for him outweigh the facts.” She touches my leg with one finger. “He took two injured girls into a cave instead of seeking medical help.” She adds another finger. “He concealed a child from his family.”
“But—” My interruption is cut short with a wave of her hand.
“Whether his intentions were noble is irrelevant. The law doesn’t concern itself with intentions as much as actions.”
Dad exhales through his nose. “Hold on, Genevieve. Things can get awfully twisted when people only see part of the trail.” He folds and then unfolds his hands. “What Darcie’s trying to do is give the public a better picture of Grover. As I understand it, there have been rumors about him for years that have painted an unflattering picture of him. She’s just looking to even things out a bit—give him a fair shot.”
She turns her attention back to me. “Well, you’ve created quite a spectacle for him. Newspaper interviews, petitions…” She sniffs, pulling a pink monogrammed handkerchief from her purse, “all while our poor Amelia is fighting with everything she has to recover from the trauma.”
It takes every ounce of energy I have not to roll my eyes.
Since I don’t say anything, she keeps going. “It’s clear we’re not going to see eye to eye on this, but you should know that public pressure cuts both ways. The more attention you draw to this case, the more scrutiny it receives.” She smiles sweetly, pulling on her gloves. “I had best be going.” She stands and Mom helps her with her coat.
“I appreciate your hospitality, and again…” Genevieve’s hand goes to Dad’s arm. “You are a hero in my book. Thank you for rescuing my granddaughter.”
Dad opens his mouth to say something, then stops, and walks her to the door. “I’m not sure what you’ve got going on here, but leave my daughter out of it. She’s just trying to lay out the truth for everyone to see. Once the cards are on the table, people can make a clear choice about whether he’s guilty or not.” He opens the door, stepping out into the cold.
“Gratitude has a way of blinding people to uncomfortable truths.” She steps off the porch and moves toward her car. Just before climbing in, she waves and calls out, “Let’s do this again. It was lovely to meet you all.”
Lovely’s not exactly the word I’d choose.
Mom leans against the door like she just ran a mile. “That woman is—”
“You got that right.”
We move back into the living room, sitting together on the sofa. My stocking feet look tiny on the footstool between my parents’ boots.
Hiding her face behind her hands, Mom says, “How can someone speak so sweetly, yet stab you with every word? She’s a master manipulator, that’s for sure.”
Dad looks past us at the clock on the wall. “It’s twenty past. Shall we turn on the news? See what the sheriff has to say?”
“Where’s Andrew?” I ask.
Mom pulls her phone from her pocket. “He’s next door with Mrs. Peaster. Let me check on him. She holds the phone to her ear, and we can hear Mrs. Peaster’s voice. “Haha! Andrew and I are having the best time! Can he stay a little longer?”
Mom and Dad exchange a smile. Not that we don’t absolutely love every minute with Andrew. We do, but it’s nice to have a conversation about something other than Veggie Tales.
“Yes, of course he can stay a little while longer. If you’re sure…Okay then. Right. See you then. Thanks.” She sighs and hands Dad the remote. “They’re stringing popcorn for the birds. But, of course, more popcorn is going into Andrew’s tummy than on the string.”
“It’s coming on.” Dad turns up the volume and scoots closer.
Sheriff Kelsey Pitts stands on the steps of police headquarters, surrounded by his deputies. His uniform looks a lot like Dad’s ranger gear, but it’s green instead of khaki. Short, cropped hair sticks out from beneath his wide-brimmed hat. He looks…nice. Not scary or mean. His sheriff's badge gleams in the sunlight as he moves in behind the podium. On his collar are three gold stars. He smiles, showing off dimples.
“Folks, there are some stories making the rounds that I wanted to get cleared up.”
I scoot forward. Maybe this is where he tells everyone Grover’s not the monster they’ve made him out to be.
“I’ve heard people saying this defendant is a victim. That he’s some kind of hero.” He shakes his head. “Let me tell you something. Heroes don’t take children into caves. Heroes don’t separate families. Heroes don’t decide they know better than doctors, paramedics, and the law.” He leans into the microphone. “After reviewing the evidence and speaking with the kids involved and their families, we’re gonna push for an additional charge of attempted murder.”
The gasp from my throat comes out like a moan. “He’s lying! He didn’t talk to me…to you!”
Dad shakes his head. “Deputy counts.”
My head sinks. Ugh. The hospital. “And I can’t unsay what I said, either—even though it wasn’t the entire story.”
“Shhh.”
“…will not be intimidated by petitions, internet campaigns, or emotional arguments. We follow facts. We follow evidence. And we will pursue justice wherever those facts lead. Thank you.” Sheriff Pitts steps away from the platform, turning his back on screaming reporters, and disappears into the building.
“Well,” Dad flicks off the TV, then stares at the blank screen for a moment. We all do.
Finally, he says, “I know you’re disappointed, kiddo, but a lot of people, like the sheriff, just see the line and the fact that it got crossed. Struggle with that myself, truth be told. I’m trying, but for me, this case is personal.”
Mom runs a hand over my cropped head. “You’re brave. And you care a lot. We see that.” She presses a kiss to the top of my head.
“Does that mean you’re on Grover’s side?”
Backing up a bit, Dad bends down to meet my eyes. “Do you remember how it felt in the hospital after the cave?” He holds my chin so I have to look at him.
“Yeah. I remember.”
“We didn’t just go back to normal like nothing happened. The worst thing we could ever imagine came true. Finding you didn’t magically put everything back the way it was. Fear leaves marks.”
I close my eyes so I don’t have to meet his gaze. “I know. And I deserve the grounding.”
Mom’s fingers find mine again. “We’re not just talking about punishment. We need you to understand what your choices mean—what Grover’s choices mean.”
I nod. “I get it. But…does it always have to end the hardest way it can? His mom went crazy when they took him away. He was just trying to help her before she died. Doesn’t that count for something?”
Dad shakes his head slightly. “Depends on who you ask. You've got your work cut out for you. The sheriff isn’t gonna just roll over. You and your friends might make a case in court. If the judge listens, we won’t block it. But you should be ready if it doesn’t go your way.”
“Dad?” I wrap my fingers around his wrist. “Did I ruin everything? With you?”
He pulls me into his chest without answering right away. His throat makes swallowing noises as he grips my shoulders. “Darcie, there isn’t anything in the world that we love more than you and your brother. Nothing’s ever gonna change that.” He holds me out, just enough to look at me. “But trust…that’s not something that pops right back into place. It will. Just—it’s gonna take time.”
My exhale shakes some. “I won’t mess up again…well—” I sort of laugh. “I probably will. But I’ll try not to.”