Page 55 of The Burning

“It’s going to have to do.”

He tries to brush past me, but I reach out and grasp his arm. “Jacob, Milan Swanz is dead. You argued with him just four days before his death. Do you have any idea how that looks?”

“I don’t care what the English think,” he snaps.

“What about the police?” I say with equal vehemence.

He looks down at the place where my hand grasps his biceps through his coat. “I had nothing to do with Swanz’s death.”

“I know you didn’t, damn it!” I release him with a little too much force, giving him a small shove in the process. “What I don’t understand is why you lied to me. What are you hiding?”

He looks away, the muscles in his jaws working, as if he’s grinding his teeth. “I think you should leave.”

“I’m not leaving until you tell me what the hell is going on.”

Stepping away, he picks up the pitchfork and goes back to the wheelbarrow. For the first time he looks upset in a way I didn’t expect. “I can’t talk to you about this, Katie.”

“About what?” I snap. “What happened? If you have nothing to hide, why can’t you talk to me?”

Tightening his mouth, he forks shavings, shakes off the excess, and dumps the manure in the wheelbarrow.

“Are you protecting someone?” I ask.

No response.

Not giving myself time to debate, I stride to him, take the pitchfork from his hands. He resists and for an instant we struggle for possession. Finally, I yank it from his hands, swivel, and throw it like a spear to the end of the aisle.

When I turn back to him, I’m breathing hard. Not from the physical exertion, but because I’m an inch away from losing my temper. “Talk to me,” I say.

He looks down at his boots, shakes his head. “There are some things best left unsaid. You know that. Some things are … private and should stay that way.”

“Jacob, if the police come for you, I can’t protect you.”

“I don’t need your protection.”

“You just became a person of interest in a murder case. That’s not to mention there’s a killer on the loose in this town,” I hiss. “I saw Swanz’s body. I know what he’s capable of. If he takes another life, part of it will be on you.”

Shoving his hands into his pockets, he closes his eyes, then lets out a long, pained breath. Misery suffuses his expression and in that moment I know whatever he’s holding inside him isn’t about him, but someone he loves.

“Who are you protecting?” I ask.

“It’s … James,” he says after a moment.

I blink at him, surprised. “James?” His eleven-year-old son. My nephew. I don’t know the boy as well as I should; we’re not close. What I do know about him is that he’s a sweet kid with freckles on his nose and puppy-dog eyes. He’s got a contagious grin and a happy-go-lucky personality that I’ve loved since the moment I laid eyes on him.

“James.” Stupidly, I repeat the name and I feel myself bracing. Not as a cop. But a woman who knows too much about the world. And an aunt who knows that what comes next is going to hurt.

“What happened to him?” I ask.

Jacob’s expression goes dark. Grimacing, he looks down at the ground. Then he lowers his head, runs his hands over his face. “James wanted to help with the fence. When Swanz was here. He likes working with his hands, you know, like all boys do. So I gave him my pliers. Some T-post clips. And I told him to help Swanz and work hard.”

I nod.

My brother raises his head, meets my gaze. “They worked on the fence for two days. The second afternoon, James didn’t come in for supper.” He stops speaking as if he’s run out of breath. An uncomfortable moment ensues as he struggles for composure. “They’d been working over by the old barn that day. When I went out to get him, there was no one there. They were nowhere in sight. But Swanz’s car was still parked in the drive.” His jaw goes taut. “I went to the barn. Found them in the loft.”

The words hit me like a volley of punches. Involuntarily, I step back, press my hand to my abdomen. I feel sick inside. Outraged. Part of me doesn’t want to hear the rest. I don’t have a choice but to ask anyway. “Jacob … did he…” I can’t finish.

“No.” Jacob shakes his head. “Not that. But, Katie, I think if I hadn’t gone out there when I did, something bad would have happened.”