I believed that I would become his mother, that he would accept me as his own. How can I sleep after such thoughts? Yesterday I almost said it out loud. Do you understand? I was half a step away from shouting in his face about how good it was that it didnt fall to me to bring him into this world. And most importantly, I cant help it. I am unable to control my emotions. I dont know what will happen next, but I feel like its beyond my strength.
Father Benetti tactfully convinced her that any teenager at this age shows resentment and dissatisfaction with many of the demands of their parents and all Emma needs is just to show a little patience and soon she will notice that her sons outbursts of anger have disappeared just as quickly, as they appeared. He also explained to her that she shouldnt hate herself for thoughts alone; he said that this was stupid, since she took in someone elses child and gave him love and maternal warmth, which already speaks of her true nature, and therefore she should not take fleeting thoughts seriously.
So every day, Heartstone residents of all ages and professions came to Father Benetti to pour out their souls and take the weight off their shoulders. In a sense, they were very lucky, since Father Benetti, in addition to his duties as a priest, also performed the work of a psychoanalyst, the only difference being that he did not take a cent for it. In other cities, people shell out a lot of money for such services, which not only does not make their souls lighter, but, on the contrary, creates another wound at the thought of how much a chat with a stranger costs.
The degree of trust in Father Benetti and considering the skeletons that parishioners pull out of their closets during confession, it was impressive gave him a reputation as the most respected man in the town. Sometimes it seemed to those around him that he personally knew more than half of the local population by name and face. Every parishioner looked to the padre as the greatest authority in Heartstone. The sheriff, the judge, the largest merchants in the town in their influence on the residents could not be compared with a man who wears a black jacket, trousers, shoes, shirt and a white clergy collar all year round.
2. He is the law here
Jenna Kramer returned to the sheriffs office, which was the size of a small town. In addition to the sheriff the staff included three deputies, a janitor and a medical examiner, part-time who worked as a pathologist at the local hospital. Jenna was one of three assistants. Everyone around believed that she was born to wear the uniform of a guardian of the law, but not in the sense of her vocation, but because the uniform simply suited her. She always tried to keep her dark brown hair gathered at the back of her head, but as a rule, towards the end of the working day, out of fatigue, she straightened her hair, which had a slightly wavy shape, falling well below her shoulders. However, she did not have to prove her competence in the work of a guardian of the law day after day. She has long earned her reputation. The sheriff valued in her a combination of such qualities as an amazing ability to find a common language with people and composure in extreme situations. It might be a stretch to call it composure, but Jenna maintained her sanity much better than her two colleagues. The sheriff always joked about her ability to communicate with people of all different personalities, saying that if it werent for her large brown eyes, which act like hypnosis, her communication skills would not be so outstanding. In fact, there was a huge amount of truth in this, because in addition to her eyes, Jenna had perfectly shaped eyebrows, a neat nose and slightly protruding lips. In addition, she did not have an ounce of excess weight, because in addition to the fact that this added feminine beauty to her, this circumstance greatly simplified the pursuit of the criminal. Thats why the sheriff appointed Jenna chief deputy after two years of service.
Pierces death still tormented her soul and the feeling of grief was still far from abating. Only work helped Jenna to at least a little escape from thoughts about Pierce and her aborted pregnancy.
The man on duty that evening was Harry Devon. Thin, thirty years old, one hundred and seventy-nine centimeters tall. As a child, he always dreamed of thick stubble, as he considered it a sign of brutality. But when the time came, Harry noticed that the stubble on his face was not only sparse, but also growing only on a small area of skin under his lower jaw, barely touching his cheeks. Because of this, Harry got into the habit of shaving close to zero, not allowing his stubble to grow long enough for anyone to notice. In this way, he disguised the inferiority of stubble, passing off its absence as a penchant for personal hygiene and caring for ones appearance. Harry followed orders perfectly, was absolutely manageable, meticulously filled out all the paperwork, arrived at the office half an hour before the start of the working day he believed that it was better to arrive half an hour early than two seconds late and never questioned the authority of the sheriff in his eyes. From the first day in the service Harry even acquired exactly the same hat as the sheriffs, which was always worn by movie sheriffs in provincial towns, in order to match the image of a real law enforcement officer. According to the sheriff himself Harry lacked the core, which was necessary in those cases when it was necessary to show toughness in relations with certain people. To the locals, Harry was the friendliest lawman. If he came to the call, then the offenders rejoiced and the victims were disappointed. However, such traits as punctuality, accuracy and complete obedience became sufficient grounds for the sheriff to highly value Harry as a deputy. If the sheriff was like a father or mentor to Harry, whose opinion was never in doubt, then he perceived Jenna almost as an older sister. Despite the fact that Harry began working as a deputy sheriff a year and a half earlier than Jenna, he did not even allow the thought of challenging her seniority over him, especially since he understood perfectly well that he would not be able to exercise the functions of a leader. At least not now.
Suddenly the front door opened and two people entered the office. Sheriff Desmond Poe led the handcuffed criminal inside. With a sharp movement, pressing on his shoulder, he forced the detainee to sit down on a chair in front of his desk.
Harry, register the sheriff said, removing the handcuffs.
Spencer Fox, sixty-four years old, sat in front of Harry. He didnt like the way three tourists who were passing through were rowdy in the cafe. Considering that he was showing concern for the peace of the local residents, Spencer approached the tourists and, at first in a rude manner, asked them to shut up and eat in silence, and upon hearing a refusal in response, he took out his short-barreled revolver and fired a warning shot. Spencer almost got it because he was just a few millimeters short of the chandelier. The owner of the establishment and part-time cook cursed Spencer three times, but Spencer demanded that he shut up too.
All his life Spencer Fox worked as a security guard at a bank, where he had the opportunity to eliminate the threat four times. Once he even had to deal with a robber, having neutralized whom he received the Order of Courage and written gratitude from the hands of the governor himself for the prevented robbery. Every time there was some kind of affray in the bank, it was like a breath of fresh air for Spencer. After such excesses, he felt blood flowing through his veins and he began to live. Having resolved the next situation, Spencer realized his importance for the office and the next day began to search every visitor right from the doorstep, and he did it in a way that any customs officer would envy. Even if his neighbor or cousin crossed the threshold of the bank office, he demanded that his pockets be turned out, because otherwise Spencer would take out a baton and begin to lay him face down on the floor, and his below-average height and the presence of a rather large belly were not a hindrance to him. On this basis, management regularly received complaints about the security guard, and the bank director each time had to put Spencer on the ground, issuing fines and reprimands. But that didnt stop Spencer. He could slow down for a while, but as soon as someone gave him a reason, he immediately reminded who was in charge and began to bring everyone to attention. And now its been more than a year since Spencer retired and life has lost its color for him.
While Harry tapped the keys, registering Spencer, the sheriff, leaning on the edge of the table, examined the revolver taken from Spencer and said:
Say thank you, because next time I will send you to serve administrative arrest. You understood me?
Leaning back in his chair and spreading his legs wide, Spencer said:
Are you the law here? At this point, Spencer began to remind the sheriff how fifteen years ago the governor himself awarded him the Order of Courage and that in this town all the creatures are ungrateful, after which he loudly and confidently summed up: So dont talk bullshit, Desmond!
Harry handed over a printed signature sheet. The sheriff snatched it and crushed it with the fingers of one hand, after which he abruptly took Spencer by the arm and pulled him away from the chair.
Thats it, thats enough! Youll be sitting here forever, half-baked Rambo! With these words, Desmond took Spencer to the temporary holding cell.
Harry watched them with a worried look. Jenna noticed his reaction and said, without looking up from the back of the chair:
Do not mind it. Spencers head has been itching for a long time.
Jennas hands then went to the back of her head to unwind the elastic. Her hair came loose, after which she lightly straightened it with her fingers.
Desmond closed the cell door once Spencer was inside and, without a moments hesitation, walked back to the office.
Desmond Poe was fifty-nine. Some gray hair appeared at the temples. Unlike Spencer, the sheriff did not have a protruding belly all his life, which appeared only after fifty-five. Desmond spent his entire life maintaining order in Heartstone. His ironclad self-belief began to take shape when he was twenty-eight and a deputy to the previous sheriff. That day, Desmond was sitting in his official car on the side of the highway, where he was conducting patrol. Day as day, if a red Mercedes had not rushed past, which was wanted, which was mentioned before on the radio. Three robbers had taken out a bank in Dallas and were now hurrying somewhere. Signs of the car were sent to all police stations in the state in the hope that somewhere the Mercedes would catch the eye of law enforcement officers. He caught the eye of Desmond Poe. Even before Desmond pressed the gas pedal, he remembered that the robbers were armed and they were unlikely to stop at his request, but at that moment he thought that something was not happening in this crazy world and demanded through the loudspeaker to park at the side of the road. Desmonds assumptions were correct. Instead of obeying his demands, the Mercedes only increased its speed, and a face with a shotgun appeared from the rear passenger window. Stopping the red Mercedes, which was wanted throughout the state, cost Desmond the front bumper, the windshield, the right side mirror, the right front fender, the right front door, the radiator, four cartridges and one corpse out of three potential ones. After what happened, no one doubted that this guy had a great future. The chase lasted only fourteen seconds before Desmond pulled out his revolver and fired the first shot, and forty-two seconds later the chase was over. He not only believed in himself, but believed that there was no person who could make him falter. After one of the robbers emerged from the window of the Mercedes and fired the first shot, Desmond began to sink into such a state of stress that he could hardly remember much of what happened next. But when the chase ended and he pinned down two, discovering the corpse of the third, the realization came to him that there was nothing to be afraid of. Desmond was convinced that he had done something that no Hollywood action movie could show. This was the first and only time Desmond killed someone. He felt no regret or guilt for not taking all three alive. The driver leaned back, pressed against the steering wheel with a hole in the back of his head, but Desmond perceived this turn of events as the cost of fighting crime. It happens that you cannot do without murder and the only question is who will be killed: the criminal or the policeman. From that day on, every time any difficulties arose at work, Desmond reminded himself that it was he who alone took on the gang in the red Mercedes. For example, when his boss raised his voice at him, Desmond immediately remembered the gang in the red Mercedes, thereby reminding himself of the level of his professionalism, and along with these thoughts came to him the realization of what a nonentity his boss was, who have never done anything even remotely similar throughout his miserable life. Such thoughts about the past were the most effective way to combat stress. The day the gang in the red Mercedes was defeated at the hands of Desmond Poe, the future sheriff learned what he was capable of. Although his reputation preceded him, a couple of years later he still had to remind others of who he was when a call came in about a gas station robbery. At that moment, Desmond had finished lunch at a cafe, which was located three blocks from the gas station and was already approaching the car when a radio message arrived. Seven and a half minutes later, Desmond rammed a yellow Chevrolet Cheville and dragged two would-be robbers into the office. The sheriff found a reason to vent his dissatisfaction on him, they say, he bombed the entire front part of the body of his official car. But Desmond No, he didnt remember the gang in the red Mercedes. He asked himself why the hell this bald hog, who was trying to be his boss, was sitting out his ass instead of doing his job and catching robbers. Such thoughts made Desmond believe in his own superiority over his boss.
His natural essence boiled down to the fact that he strictly followed the law and had a cool enough head that nothing in this world could force him to break the law.
The departure of his boss from his post was an event that occupied a special place in Desmonds biography. This was a separate, special chapter in his life. After winning the election, watching as he crossed the threshold of the office saying goodbye to the sheriffs service, Desmond barely restrained himself from spitting on the bald back of his former boss and giving him a kick in the ass so that he would quickly get out. That day he felt that this was his finest hour. Now hes the sheriff. Now this is his town. Desmond ordered everything that in any way reminded him of his predecessor to be thrown out of the office. He began to spend a lot of effort and time to develop courage, organization and self-control in his charges. This was not always possible, since many people could not meet such standards due to their nature. Using Harry as an example, Desmond was clearly convinced of this. But unlike his predecessor, Desmond knew how to find in his subordinates those skills for which they should be valued. In the end he understood that his town was not Vietnam, where people were being killed on every corner. Among other things, you also need to do paperwork, be able to find a common language with people and resolve everyday conflicts.
After the previous sheriff left, Desmond began to properly restore order. He proceeded from the fact that for Heartstone, given its scale, the level of chaos and violence was too great. Several times a week we received calls about something stolen or missing. Every couple of days there would be some kind of row in a public place. Rarely did an entire calendar year go by without some kind of murder. The only restaurant in downtown Heartstone, called Angel Heart, was a real sore spot; in it, every evening especially on weekends the atmosphere at first became relaxed, and after a few hours, when the alcohol began to take effect, it was already tense and plates, knives, forks, bottles and everything that could somehow be used to rip open someones body. Moreover, a showdown could start between people who had hardly known each other before and had never spoken, but who came to the Angel Heart and sat at tables in opposite corners. And so almost every evening, Angel Heart put someone in a hospital bed, and someone was sent to a temporary holding cell. From the very first day Desmond first took on the most problematic areas of the town, including the restaurant. For three weeks, he spent every evening at Angel Heart, bringing one of his assistants with him. Not to say that Angel Heart has ceased to instill courage in the drunken heads of visitors, but showdowns began to occur much less frequently, and over time the situation calmed down completely. The owner of the establishment did not particularly like this, because he noticed how much alcohol sales had fallen. People began to drink less so as not to give the new sheriff a reason to attack them. But the restaurant owner also found a bright side in this, because now he didnt have to install new windows so often, buy new sets of dishes, repair door hinges and walk around the entire room in search of unnoticed traces of blood after the next showdown. And the chairs in the central hall began to last much longer, since now no one would grab them to hit someone on the back, after which, as a rule, the chairs would shatter into splinters.