Guns were drawn, and all of them were pointed at Joe. "Back up!" an officer screamed. "Back up the fuck up, asshole! Back up right now!"
It was Max, Preacher realized belatedly as his gaze pinged between his brothers. Max had ducked beneath the rope and was running across the campsite toward the trailer.
Frozen in place, Preacher watched as six officers converged on his youngest brother and tackled him to the ground.
"Mom!" The gut-wrenching wail came from beneath the pile of bodies. "Mom!"
Feeling the pain in his little brother's words so acutely, Preacher lurched forward. He'd only managed a few steps when his arm was grabbed, and he was wrenched backward.
"You can't go in there!" a police officer shouted.
"Like hell," Preacher growled and swung. There was an audible crack as his fist collided with the officer's nose. The man staggered backwards, and Preacher took off running.
Chapter 24
Debbie took one last look around the quiet motel room as she shouldered her backpack. Sylvia lay in bed, holding her swollen stomach, and Anne curled up beside her. Neither woman had spoken in hours. Expressionless, Sylvia simply stared at the wall, while Anne cried softly.
The grief in the room was evident, and Debbie didn't know these women well enough to know what to do or say to help them. She figured leaving them to one another was the best thing she could do for them.
Quietly pushing open the door, she slipped outside. It was early morning, though the sun was nowhere to be found, and a heavy fog had settled over the surrounding area.
She couldn't recall which town they were in, only that the motel they'd been directed to stay at was only three miles from the county sheriff's department-where all the men currently were. The women had been dropped at the motel, with the exception of June, who'd been taken to a hospital in a fire truck, and Louisa, who'd requested to stay with her.
Debbie sucked in another heavy breath. She still couldn't wrap her mind around it. Doc was dead. Ginny and Gerald were dead. And yet she'd seen them just yesterday. Gerald had been manning the grill, cooking up the hot dogs and hamburgers that Ginny was dishing out. All three had been alive and well when their group had left the park, only to return to find them … gone.
No, not gone. Murdered.
God, it all felt so surreal. Like a dream, or rather, a nightmare. She couldn't even begin to imagine how the others were feeling. More specifically, how Preacher was feeling.
Debbie sank down onto the curb, feeling utterly bewildered and helpless. The last time she'd seen Preacher he'd been frighteningly out of control, thrashing violently against the four police officers who'd been dragging him through the park. It had taken the officers nearly fifteen minutes and sheer brute strength to force him inside the back of a police car. Joe, who'd been equally enraged, had received similar treatment. And everyone else had been quickly gathered and given instructions to follow the police back to the station.
"Debbie," she had informed the questioning officer, her voice shaking. "Deborah Reynolds. I'm-I'm Preacher's, um, I'm Damon's girl."
Other than her name, the police had asked her where she'd been that day and who she'd been with, and then she'd been dismissed. Eventually Jim had been instructed to bring the women here.
Her arms wrapped around her shins, Debbie rested her head on her knees and stared off into the fog. She was well past exhausted and yet unable to sleep. Her worry for Preacher's wellbeing was too pressing, and dominating all her other thoughts.
All except for one.
Her eyes squeezed closed and her arms tightened around her legs. Was it selfish to hope Preacher wouldn't send her away? That he would still want her around? She swallowed thickly. Of course it was selfish. Self-absorbed and utterly contemptible.
Still, she continued to hope.
The sound of an engine eventually roused her, and Debbie blinked back the gathering sleep in her eyes as a familiar blue van pulled into the parking lot. A state police car followed closely behind the van, two officers inside. While the van pulled up to the building, the police remained across the lot.
One by one the Silver Demons climbed out of the van, each man looking some variation of strung out and bleak. Nobody paid her much attention as they trudged past her and entered the room. She paid them little mind as well, her sole focus on the van. The last to exit, Preacher's long legs preceded him. His boots hit the ground hard, and when he turned, lifting his head, Debbie both flinched and cursed.
Dark bags ringed his bloodshot eyes. His left cheek was swollen and mottled with blue and purple bruises. His bottom lip had been split down the center.