Page 23 of Cole

“Come on,” Deputy Roland said gently, guiding Henry back toward the kitchen. “Why don’t we sit down and talk?”

Henry returned to his chair at the table without resistance.

The deputy glanced at the bowl of cereal. “That doesn’t look appetizing. How about I make you some eggs?”

“I’m not hungry,” Henry whispered.

Taking a seat, Roland gazed at him with concern. “You don’t look well. Are you feeling okay?”

Henry shrugged.

“Do you feel sick?”

Henry swallowed hard and nodded.

“Did your dad know you were sick when he left last night?”

Henry shrugged again.

“Did you tell him?”

“No.”

Roland furrowed his brow as he gazed at him. “You can talk to me, Henry,” he said. “If something is wrong, you can tell me. I’m your friend.”

My dad is making me butcher animals and cut them into pieces—and I’m scared of what else he’ll make me kill.

Could he say that to Deputy Roland? Was the deputy really that much of a friend? Henry desperately wanted to believe he could confide in Roland and that the man would believe him. But he didn’t. If the deputy told his dad what he said…

“Nothing’s wrong,” Henry whispered, his voice cracking. He blinked rapidly as his eyes began to burn. No one would help him. The only person he trusted to have his back was Ezra, and Ezra was gone.

The memory of his dad entering the root cellar at Ezra’s house filled his mind... and a chill crept into his bones. He hurriedly pushed away the terrifying thoughts trying to take over, knowing that if he let them in... he would go crazy, too.

“Are you certain?” Roland inquired. “Because I sense that isn’t the whole truth. You don’t need to hide anything from me. I can tell something is bothering you. If it’s regarding your dad, you can still tell me. I won’t share that with him. I’ll keep it just between us.” Leaning closer, he added earnestly, “I promise.”

Henry lifted his head gradually, locking eyes with the deputy. Was he telling the truth? Could Henry trust him? Maybe Deputy Roland would remove Henry from his father and place him in a safe environment.

But what if he didn’t? What if he told Henry’s dad?

Henry lowered his head. “There’s nothing wrong.” His lie stumbled over the lump in his throat, cracking his voice.

“Henry—” Roland started when he heard another vehicle coming up the drive. “It’s the sheriff,” he murmured.

All the tension from earlier returned to Henry. He clenched his fists against his legs as his heart pounded against his ribs.

His dad’s Bronco pulled up out front. The engine turned off, and the driver’s door slammed shut, each sound amplified in Henry’s ears. The front door swung open and shut, with his dad’s heavy footsteps echoing through the hallway.

Deputy Roland rose to his feet when the sheriff stepped into the kitchen. “Sheriff. You’re back.”

Henry felt his dad’s stern gaze settle on him as he addressed the deputy. “What’s going on here?”

“Nothing,” Roland replied. “Just chatting with Henry till you came home.”

“Chatting,” Daniel Pruett muttered. “About what?”

“Nothing important,” Roland said. “Just friendly conversation. Right, Henry?”

Henry glanced up hesitantly and nodded.

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