Bullies Targets The Wrong A Waitress — Unaware She's A Karate Black Belt Working Part-Time
Chapter 22
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Joe noticed Chief Everett Boone stopped by that Monday morning, taking a booth near the back, ordering coffee he barely drank. He waited until the diner thinned out before approaching the counter."Heard about Saturday," he said. "The party.""Word travels fast," Joe said."Small town," Boone said with a tired half-smile. "I wanted you to know I did speak with Braden informally, like I said I would.""How'd that go?"Boone hesitated. "He apologized," he said. "On paper, at least. His father was in the room the whole time. I'm not sure how much of it he meant.""Doesn't sound like much changed," Joe said."No," Boone admitted. "It doesn't. I wish I had more to offer you than that, Joe. I really do.""Did you know my grandfather well?" Joe asked, curious suddenly."He swore me in," Boone said, something softening in his face. "First week on the job, nervous as anything, and he shook my hand like I already mattered. Told me the badge doesn't make the man; the man makes the badge mean something. I think about that more than I probably let on.""Doesn't sound like something you'd forget," Joe said."No," Boone agreed. "It's not. Some days I wonder if I'm living up to it. Today's one of those days, if I'm honest.""You believe us, though," Joe said. "About what's really happening here."Boone looked at her for a long moment, something conflicted behind his eyes. "I believe your family," he said quietly. "That's not the same as being able to prove anything in a courtroom. Not yet, anyway."He left soon after, the bell over the door jingling behind him, leaving Joe with the uncomfortable feeling that even the people trying to help were boxed in by things bigger than themselves.Across town, in a house far too big for one family, Braden sat through his father's lecture about the apology letter without really hearing most of it."Say the words. Mean them or don't, I don't much care," Marcus had told him. "Just make sure nothing else happens before Founders Day. We're too close to the finish line for you to keep stirring up sympathy for that family."Braden had nodded along, the way he always did, though something about the word finish line sat strangely with him afterward. He thought briefly of Mildred's face crumpling at the party, of the way the room had gone quiet and cold around him. He pushed the thought away quickly, the way he pushed away most things that made him feel smaller than he wanted to feel: it was easier to be angry than to sit with that particular feeling for very long.Five days remained before Founders Day. The town felt tense in a way it usually didn't—an undercurrent running beneath the ordinary rhythm of things.On Wednesday, Main Street closed early for the annual pre-Founders Day farmers market, a smaller event that usually served as a warm-up for the bigger celebration to come. Stalls lined both sides of the street, selling honey, quilts, fresh vegetables, and slices of pie from half the bakeries in the county.