The Bad Boy of Butterfly Harbor(81)

It would only take the slightest movement, however small, to jostle one of those unstable sticks of dynamite, and the entire cabin would go up.

Not on his watch. Not again. But his entire body was shaking as he remembered the sound of the ripping explosion as it tore through another room, another young man. Another time.

“Sheriff Luke?” Simon’s voice brought him racing back to the present.

“I’m here.” His mouth was dry; his head ached. But he knew what he had to do. “Did you hear me?”

“Yes. I’ll try not to move.” But there was fear in his voice.

“I’m going to get you out of this, Simon. I promise. And what did I tell you about my promises?”

“You never break them.”

“Good boy. Here we go.” Luke released his ankle and stood up.

He examined every inch of their surroundings, searching for the clearest path to the door. To cover all his bases, he walked it, step by step, and committed it to memory, like walking a mine path in his service days. He could get to the door. But first he needed a place to put what he pulled off the pile.

“Simon?” Luke aimed the light around the cabin as he heard the rustle of wood against wood. The cabin walls began to buckle. Whatever Simon had toppled into had decreased the stability of an already unsound structure. “I’m on my way to you.” He glanced back at Winters. He hadn’t moved. “You still doing okay?”

“Yes.” But his voice wasn’t as strong as before. “I think I broke my arm.”

Luke swallowed, cringing as he shuffled his way through the debris and dynamite. “Well, I guess you’ll have a pretty cool cast to go with that scar of yours.” He felt something crunch under his boots. Glass, he realized, as his pulse kicked up a beat. Another step. Clear. Another and another. Closer to where Simon had been buried.

“Simon, talk to me, okay? About whatever you want, but I need to hear your voice.”

He needed to know Holly’s son was still alive.

“What should I say?”

Luke bent to examine the pile covering Simon. It was like a giant wooden puzzle. Pull out the wrong piece and the entire thing could come crashing down. But if he chose wisely... “Tell me what classes you want to take in that new school of yours.”

“They won’t want me after this,” Simon said, and for the first time, Luke thought he heard tears in the little boy’s voice. “I messed up real bad this time.”

“If they don’t, then it’s their loss. Tell me about those classes.” Luke pried open the top box, looked inside and breathed a sigh of relief when he saw a collection of rusted tools.

“I like computers.”

“This I know.” Luke hefted the box free and took the three clear steps to the side. He set down the box, returned to the pile. Another box, this one full of old hunting magazines. “Simon?”

“I want to know how to build them.”

“We can always use a new engineer.” Luke repeated the process of removing the boxes, moving them out of the way. “Have you thought about engineering? They build a lot of really cool things.”

“You mean like the Proton Patrol?”

“Exactly.” Luke grunted, and tried to quell his elation when he exposed Simon’s filthy pant leg. He could see the edge of Simon’s superhero T-shirt peeking out at him. “They do a lot with tools and science. They build things that go into space. Or you can make things to help people, like Deputy Knight. You thought his leg was pretty cool, right?”

“I could build something like that?” The wonder in Simon’s voice lightened Luke’s heavy heart. His back burned, hotter and heavier than after that bomb went off in Chicago. But he wasn’t going to fail this time. This time he was going to get Simon out before...

Crack!

Luke froze.

“Sheriff Luke?”

“Let’s cut the sheriff, okay, Simon?” Luke lifted his foot and felt his stomach plummet. Nitroglycerin crystals caked the bottom of his boot, the crushed TNT stick screaming at him to hurry. “You and me are friends, right?”

“But I’m your deputy,” Simon argued. “I’m supposed to call you Sheriff.”

Now he was a stickler for the rules? “How about we’re two friends trying to get out of a tricky situation.” Luke bent down and untied his shoe, pulling free as he returned to Simon’s side. “You want to know a secret?” He lifted a box and moved it clear of the boy. Simon grinned up at him. “I’m thinking about asking your mom to marry me.”

“Mom?” Simon started to sit up, but Luke shook his head, held up his hand to caution him to stay put. “Why?”