"Brackett, Beverly - Sherrif Funderburk - Booger" - читать интересную книгу автора (Brackett Beverly)

"Then I called y'all."

Funderburk glanced at the deputy standing behind Hutchins, and asked, "Where are the kids?"

The deputy nodded towards the door. "They're outside, sir. DSS is coming for them."

At the mention of the Department of Social Services, Hutchins' head snapped up and he jerked upright in the chair, "Please, Sheriff, I don't want my granbabies in foster care! Call Rayette, to come get 'em, she's a good woman!"

Funderburk nodded in sympathy. "I know she is, Asa. But it's not our decision. DSS makes that choice."

He stood up, carefully straightening the creases in his trouser legs. "I'm gonna go see how the children are doin'."

Pausing on his way to the front door, he turned to the deputy. "Listen, don't bring Asa out until I give the word. I don't want these children to see their paw-paw bein' taken away in handcuffs."

"Thank you, Sheriff." Hutchins looked up and their eyes met. Funderburk noticed that the old man was blinking, hard and rapid. Blinking back tears.

"It's the least I can do, Asa."

Hutchins looked back down at the floor as Funderburk opened the door and stepped out into the sweltering South Carolina afternoon. The brightness stung his eyes, and he blinked. Hard and rapid.

* * *

The three Adkins children sat in the back of a cruiser, both doors open to catch any passing breeze. The youngest, a girl of about six, slept in the middle, her head on her older brother's shoulder. It was hot and the younger boy had taken off his shirt.

Funderburk noticed it was a worn, long-sleeved flannel shirt, much too hot for late May. Then he noticed the scars that criss-crossed the eight-year-old's arms and chest. In the center of his chest, from sternum to belly button was a fresh, oval-shaped bruise.

The boy watched with apprehension as Funderburk approached, then he quickly put on his shirt and stood up.

Funderburk smiled and gestured towards the seat. "It's okay, son. Go ahead and sit back down."

He bent down to get a better look at the children. From the passenger side of the back seat, the older boy eyed him with suspicion. The girl yawned and opened her eyes.

"I'm Sheriff Funderburk. I've been in the house talking to your paw-paw."

The younger boy eased himself carefully back into the seat. "Is paw-paw okay?"

Funderburk nodded. "He's just fine. He wanted me to come outside and see how y'all were doin'."

"We're doin' fine," the older boy answered tersely.

The ten-year-old's behavior bordered on hostility, but Funderburk kept his own manner friendly and easy-going.

"You must be Troy, and she must be Katie" he said to the oldest. Then, turning to the younger boy, he tapped him lightly on the chest with his index finger, and said, "And you must be Davey!"

Davey jumped back and winced, and Funderburk knew the bruise was still very fresh. "I'm sorry, son, did that hurt?"

The boy nodded and began buttoning his shirt, trying to hide the bruise. "Yes, sir."

"What happened to you there?"