Lines formed on his forehead as he chewed on his thumbnail. “Uh, when did this happen?”
“A couple of days ago. In downtown Vicksburg. Since you haven’t been by the house in a few days, I hadn’t had the chance to tell ya.”
“Okay, well, did they catch the guy who did it?”
“No. It was two men apparently.”
“Two men? No mention of a priest?”
“No. Why would a priest be involved?”
“Forget it. I don’t suppose they got a good look at the two men, did they?”
“I don’t think so.”
“Shit.”
“Also Jerry, a couple of Oak Ridge officers stopped by the house looking for you.”
It was all beginning to click. His heart sank to his feet and he struggled to get out his words. “Oak Ridge, eh? So uh, what do they want with me?”
“They said they was just needin to talk to ya.”
“What did you tell em?”
“I said I hadn’t seen you in a couple of days. I told em you’re usually at the jail on Saturday nights.”
Fornier’s hands began to shake. He opened the flask and emptied it into his mouth. Then he cleared his throat and attempted to end the conversation. “Alright, thanks Ma. Talk to you later..”
“Wait! Your father wanted me to tell you…,” but the phone was already nestled in its cradle. The deputy jumped to his feet, took out his keys, and unlocked the line of shotguns aligned along the office backwall. He took one out, dug through the cabinets, and loaded it with buckshots. Then he called Deputy Simpson in. “Take one of these,” he said to him, offering a shotgun.
“What the hell is going on?!” Simpson yelled.
“I just received a uh, terroristic threat to the jailhouse.”
“Well shouldn’t we call Dirk?”
“No!” Fornier shouted with an unexpected ferocity. Seeing the shocked expression on his partner’s face, Fornier took a breather. “It’s alright Simpson,” he explained calmly, “I can effectively neutralize the situation on my own. I just need you to sit up and be on the lookout.”
“For what exactly?”
“Anything suspicious. Radio me if you see sumthin. I’m gonna head out to the tool crib for a few minutes, okay? I won’t be long.”
Fornier bolted for the rear entrance, past the basketball court, and out towards the shed just beyond the gate. Once inside, he looked for anything flammable and threw all he could find into an undersized wheelbarrow. When he was finished, he rushed the wheelbarrow to the front of the jailhouse and as he did, crap would occasionally fall out of it. But once on the front porch, he dug through his gatherings. He attempted to recall some tricks he learned from his ordinance days in Vietnam. Simpson stepped out onto the porch, shotgun in hand, and watched his fellow deputy move manically. “What the hell are you doing?” he asked him.
“Go back inside!” ordered Fornier. “Get me whatever munitions you can find!”
TO BE CONTINUED…