Page 9 of Awakening the Sheriff

Shoplifting wasn’t all that uncommon for teens, but I also knew from experience and statistics that minor crimes like that could lead to bigger ones when they went unchecked. “Did he get sentenced?”

“No, but his friends did. He was drunk, however, and had been hanging out with the wrong crowd.”

I cocked my head. “Mr. Perry has been pretty open with you.”

“Yes. He’s concerned for his son and wants to do everything in his power to keep him on the right track for a successful future.”

Good for him. Moving across the country took guts, and apparently, this guy had ‘em. “What started today’s fight?”

“It seems Byron initiated the fight and Gabe was defending himself.”

“Any idea why he would start something like this?”

“None so far. He’s been reserved and hasn’t participated much in classes, but he hasn’t given us any problems.”

“All right. I’d like to speak with Byron alone if that’s possible.”

“Of course.” Hebert rose. “I have an empty office available for you next door. I’ll get him from his class, so it’ll be a few minutes.”

Keaton Perry had moved into town over the summer, arriving a week before school started again. Two boys, I remembered, and the youngest one was in Violet’s class. The kid also had an unusual name, something from literature. Milton, that was it. Byron and Milton Perry.

Had they agreed to the move? I doubted it. Teenagers abhorred change, and understandably so. They already had enough to deal with what they couldn’t control. So for Byron to resent being forced to move across the country made sense, and I wasn’t surprised it had resulted in acting out at school.

But what had Gabe Everett said or done to set him off? He was a good kid, a quiet, studious redhead like his dad, who would probably follow in his dad’s footsteps one day and become a doctor. How sad that his other dad, Samuel, hadn’t been able to see his boys grow up. He’d passed away from colon cancer four years prior, and it had been a devastating blow to Fir and his boys. He’d done a great job as a single dad, though, and his kids stayed out of trouble. It made the fight even more puzzling.

The door opened, and a lanky, dark-haired teenager stepped inside, sporting a sulky expression. His hair was long and messy, and he was dressed in a black hoodie and black baggy pants, the attitude and annoyance dripping off him in waves.

“Hebert said I should talk to you,” he said.

“Principal Hebert, and yes. I’m Sheriff Frant. Have a seat, Byron.” I gestured to one of the old wooden chairs that had been there since I’d attended high school.

He glared at me, dragging his feet across the linoleum floor, and reluctantly sat. “I don’t understand why he had to call the cops,” he muttered, crossing his arms.

“Principal Hebert likes to involve me when it concerns older boys, as we both prefer to nip incidents in the bud and prevent them from becoming bigger issues.”

“I have no issues.”

I could barely hold back a smile. Just looking at him, I would guess he was one big walking issue, but it didn’t matter. “Let’s start with getting to know you a little. You guys moved here in September, correct?”

“If you already know, why are you asking me?”

Lord almighty, this kid had a mouth on him. I had to admire his balls to be this rude to a cop, but it also spelled trouble in big neon letters. It didn’t often happen that teens showed me this much disrespect. “Making conversation. How do you like Forestville so far?”

“It’s boring as fuck.”

“Compared to Atlanta, I imagine it would be.”

He narrowed his eyes. “How do you know we lived in Atlanta?”

“It’s a small town, Byron. News travels fast here.”

He studied me, probably wondering if I knew about his trouble in Atlanta too. I wasn’t about to hang his father out to dry for sharing that. “I liked Atlanta far better. I had friends there.”

“Must’ve been hard leaving them behind.”

“Did you ever move cross-country?”

I shook my head. “I grew up here. In fact, I attended Forestville High.”