Chapter 38

Martin drove very slowly to Wild Bill’s. He was sure that Sharla was mad at him, or at the very least disappointed in him, for the stupid way he acted the night before and wanted to give him a piece of her mind. He almost didn’t go, but she had called the bar and asked Don to relay the message that she wanted to see him. He had to go even though he was nervous facing her.
The lot in front of Wild Bill’s was completely empty. Not a soul was at any of the gas pumps. “Damn it!” He’d hoped that there would be a few people in there so Sharla would have to be polite and maybe take it easy on him. In an effort to stall, Martin put a few gallons into his tank, and slowly walked to the front door to pay his bill. And to face Sharla.
The bell on the door tinkled in the silent store. No one was at the register. “Hello!” he called into the quiet. He heard the back door to the store slam and watched as Sharla brushed off her hands, her shorts and her T-shirt as she came in from the back room and started down the aisles.
“Hi, Sharla.”
She looked up and smiled when she saw his face. “Oh, Martin, I’m so glad you made it over!” Sharla rushed over to him and threw her arms around his neck. He gently put his arms around the back of her waist, and pulled her tightly to him. “I’m glad I made it over, too.”

+ + +

Martin filled Sharla in on what had taken place with Dayton and Clark that morning, and with every detail, her eyes grew wider and her face darker. “Martin, do you really believe that Jeff and Dayton knew what was going on and did nothing? This is so much worse than I even thought…”
"I know, and I don’t know what to do next.”
They sat quietly at one of the little café tables where men played cribbage and drank beer in the afternoons. Each of them was lost in their own thoughts for a few minutes. “So what does Clark say?”
"He said I should do what I have to do, but try to maintain our confidence and pride in community and in our school system.”
Sharla frowned. “That is so Clark. God forbid he take a stand on anything.”
Martin looked at her and smirked. “So, how do you know that being a journalistic weakling is Clark’s M.O.?”
“I just do. So, what now?”
“I told you, I don’t know what I should do next. Confront Talbot? Confront Daniels and Howe? Talk to more victims?”
Sharla shook her head and looked him straight in the eyes. “Don’t talk to anyone for a day or two. It wouldn’t surprise me if Jeff and Dayton have been scared into doing something they should have done all along. Put your thoughts on paper, and let’s talk some more later.” Sharla stood up and motioned toward a car at one of the pumps. “I have to get back to work, and so do you.”
Martin stood up, too, and took her hand. “Thanks, Sharla. Say, Don invited us to come over for burgers tonight. Can you make it?”
Sharla smiled and squeezed his hand. “I’d love it. When should I meet you there?”
Martin hesitated just a moment before getting up the nerve to say, “Why don’t I pick you up at 6:00?” He saw her smile again and nod. “And just so you know, my mother will be there.”
Sharla giggled a little. “Well good. I like her.” She gave his hand another squeeze. “I’ll see you here at 6:00.”