Bullies Choke New Girl — Unaware She's A Deadly MMA Fighter
Chapter 4
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Whitfield looked down at his desk. "Grady Voss's father sits on the city council," Whitfield said quietly. "He's also on our board of trustees. He funded the new diesel bay we just installed.""So that's the math," Silas said."It's not that simple.""It's exactly that simple. You just told me the reason."Whitfield didn't answer. Silas straightened up, looked around the office: the diplomas on the wall, the framed photo of some ribbon-cutting ceremony—the whole careful architecture of a man's small, comfortable life."I'm not here to burn your school down," Silas said. "I'm here because somebody put a rag around my granddaughter's throat and you called it horseplay on the phone.""I understand you're upset.""I'm not upset yet. This is me calm. You should hope it stays that way."He turned toward the door, then stopped. "One more thing," he said. "You said students—plural. How many?"Whitfield hesitated. "Four.""And how many were holding my granddaughter down?""One.""And the other three?""They were present."Silas nodded slowly, like a man confirming something he already suspected. "Present," he said. "That's a word, too."He walked out without waiting for a response.In the parking lot, an old cruiser sat idling near the flagpole. Sheriff Tom Kesler leaned against the hood, arms crossed, watching Silas come down the steps. They'd known each other 20 years—fished the same stretch of river every spring, buried a mutual friend three summers back."Heard there was some trouble," Kesler said."You heard right.""You want to file something?"Silas stopped beside him, looked out at the flat, ordinary parking lot like it hadn't just been the scene of something ugly. "Not yet," Silas said. "Right now, it's my word and a school administrator's word. And administrators have a way of winning that kind of argument. You know the family.""Voss. Yeah." Kesler's jaw tightened just slightly. "Roy Voss makes life difficult for people who make life difficult for him. You'd be wise to have something solid before you push.""I usually am," Silas said.Kesler nodded like that settled it for now. "You need anything, Preacher, you call me. Day or night.""Same goes."Kesler watched him a moment longer before adding, "You know, most men your age would have called a lawyer by now—not driven straight to a school to stare down a dean.""Lawyers are for people who've given up on getting an honest answer out of somebody first," Silas said. "I haven't given up on that yet.""And if you do?""Then you'll be the second call I make," Silas said. "Right after Duke."Kesler almost smiled at that. "Fair enough. Go easy today, Preacher.""I mean to."Silas got in his truck and drove home slower than usual, turning the whole conversation over in his mind the way he'd turn a stripped bolt—looking for the one angle that would finally get it loose.