“You failed to properly notify my client, and assuming you didn’t take the money yourself, two hundred dollars was stolen out from under your nose-”
“Be careful what you’re saying, Hank.”
“Not only that,” Durkin interjected, his voice not much more than a croak, “they packed up the food from the refrigerator and left it out in the sun. Half of it’s spoiled.”
“Alright, alright,” Wolcott said, flashing Durkin a look before staring angrily at the older attorney. “I’ll look into this. But you know, Hank, your client broke a window and trespassed into the house. I could arrest him right now.”
“He was retrieving personal property that you didn’t bother to pack up.”
“I made sure that nothing was left behind!”
“He had several items of great sentimental value that were hidden in the basement. If you’d like, I’m sure Jack will show you where they were.”
Wolcott looked slowly from Hank to Jack Durkin. “No, that won’t be necessary,” he said. “It doesn’t matter. Your client criminally trespassed, regardless of what might’ve been left in the house.” He removed a pair of handcuffs from his belt and stepped forward. “I am placing him under arrest. You can accompany us down to the station house if you’d like.”
“I’ll tell you what,” Hank Thompson said, his voice shaking with indignation. “If you do this I will sue you for abuse of power. Trust me, Sheriff, making your life hell will be my life’s work. Maybe at the end of the day, you’ll also get to find out what it’s like to have your home seized.”
Wolcott hesitated, then reluctantly slipped the handcuffs back on his belt. “I want your client off this property now,” he said. “And all his junk too. Anything still here by tomorrow morning will be carted off to the town dump.”
Hank sniffed dismissively. “Jack will be given a reasonable amount of time to remove his property. If you touch any of it he will sue you. Make no mistake about that, Dan. Now why don’t you get the hell away from here and let me talk to my client in private.”
Wolcott nodded. “Just make sure your client doesn’t enter the house again.”
“What about the garage?” Durkin asked.
“What?”
“My pa built that garage.”
Wolcott stared at Durkin as if he sprouted horns.
“You’ll have to bring that up with the town council,” he said, his voice strained. “Maybe they’ll let you move it to somewhere else. That’s up to them. But I’m coming back here at midnight and if you’re camped out anywhere on this property, I’m arresting you.”
“Dan, let me ask you something,” Hank said, his tone softer and more congenial. “You used to be a good kid, and were for the most part a nice guy as sheriff. When did you become such an asshole?”
Wolcott flinched as if he’d been slapped. “I’m only doing my job, Hank.”
“A little too zealously, if you ask me. What do you have against Jack?”
“Other than cutting off his son’s thumb? How about the way he’s treated his wife.” Wolcott pushed his hand over his scalp. “Mrs. Durkin looks twenty years older than a woman her age has any right to look. And now I see her walking around town with a cast on her hand. How’d that happen, Hank? I’ll give your client until six tomorrow night to remove his property. Just make sure he does.”
Wolcott nodded dully at them as he walked away. Hank Thompson stood stone-faced watching him. After the sheriff was out of sight, he sighed and turned to Durkin.
“Why the hell is Dan so fixated with Lydia?” he asked.
“She used to be babysit him.”
“It looks like he’s still carrying an adolescent crush on your wife. If I remember right, Lydia used to be quite pretty when she was younger. Jack, you didn’t ever abuse her, did you?” Hank asked, his eyebrows arching slightly.
“Never once laid a hand on her. And as far as yelling goes, she always gave worse than she got.”
Hank chuckled sympathetically. “Pretty much how I’d imagine it with her. I don’t want to rub salt in the wound, Jack, but I doubt our good sheriff would be so gung-ho right now carrying out this eviction if Lydia hadn’t walked out on you. Any chance of you two reconciling?”
Durkin frowned as he considered it. He stumbled, and when he tried to regain his footing, ended up putting weight on his injured ankle. Wincing, he sat down quickly.
“Are you okay, Jack?”
“I hurt my ankle coming out of the window. I hope it ain’t broke.”
“Jesus.”
“I think I’ll be okay. I just need to sit here for now. About what you asked, unless Lester changes his story she ain’t moving back with me.”
Hank lowered himself to the ground and joined Durkin.
“What a mess,” he said.
“Yep.”
“It explains why Child Services has been putting me off. Must be someone on the town council having them do that. They probably didn’t want to risk Lester recanting his statement until after your eviction. Well, Jack, I’m just going to have to push harder for that deposition.”
Durkin didn’t say anything. He was too choked up at that moment to say anything. He dusted dirt off the Caretakers contract and handed it to Hank.
“This is the contract?” Hank asked. The attorney held it at arm’s length to take a look at it but it was too dark to read it.
Durkin nodded.
“I’ll go over this carefully tonight,” Hank said. “With your family occupying this house for several hundred years this contract could amount to a land grant. It amazes me they thought they could get away with this. But then again, with some of the newer town residents on the council they probably didn’t believe that this contract even existed. Don’t worry, Jack, I’m going to get you back in that house.”
Durkin nodded dully as he examined the Book of Aukowies. Tears welled in his eyes.
Hank put a hand on his shoulder. “That’s the book?” he asked.
“Yep. It’s been in my family over three hundred years. The binding split open when I fell.”
Hank took the book from Durkin and looked through the pages. In the dusk he could still make out the drawings of the Aukowies.
“This is what they look like fully grown?”
“Yep.”
Hank’s face grew even more gaunt as he stared at the pictures. He closed the book.
“Jack, the binding can be replaced. Leave the book with me and I’ll get it fixed.”
“Thanks. I’d appreciate it.”
“Least I can do, Jack. I’ll get it done right away.”
The attorney picked himself off the ground and gave Durkin a hand to help him to his feet. He looked at Durkin with concern.
“I should take you to the emergency room,” he said.
“Nope. It’s probably just a sprain. Anyway, I got too much to do.”
The two men started towards the front of the house, Durkin in a badly hobbled gait and Hank walking slowly to keep pace with him. The concern on the attorney’s face deepened as he watched the way Durkin moved.
“You need to get that ankle looked at.”
“Not tonight,” Durkin grunted.
Hank offered to put Durkin up at his home when they reached his car. “You can stay with me until we get this mess resolved, or if you’d like, tomorrow I can find you an apartment.”
“How far away is your new home?”
“It’s only the next town over. I’d say no more than fifteen miles from here.”
“I can’t do that.” Durkin shook his head, his jaw locked in a determined scowl. “I need to stay close to the field.”
“Jack, I can drive you back here anytime you’d like.”
“Nope. Wouldn’t want to put you out that way. Besides, I got other plans.”
“Jack, really, it’s no bother…” Hank Thompson stopped as he stepped back on his heels. He froze for a moment, then tapped his chest. “Indigestion,” he told Durkin. “I shouldn’t have had that extra helping of stuffed cabbage.” He smiled weakly as he took out his wallet and peered inside it. He counted what he had and handed the money to Durkin.