Minor in Possession Read Free

me where he is,” Owens growled.
    He must have figured I was personally concealing Joey Rothman from him. He took anothermenacing step into the room. Half sitting half lying on the bed, I was in no position to defend myself against attack if he chose to come after me with physical force.
    â€œHe’s out,” I said curtly, “and if you’re coming in, do you mind shutting the door behind you? It’s cold as blue blazes.”
    The timely invocation of good manners has stopped more than one unwelcome intruder in his tracks. Guy Owens was no exception. He paused uncertainly, glancing from me back over his shoulder toward the open door.
    â€œWhat’s the matter?” I continued, pressing the slight advantage. “Were you born in a barn?”
    Without a word Guy Owens returned to the door and slammed it shut. The action gave me just enough time to get both feet firmly on the floor before he swung back around and hurried over to the open bathroom door. He went so far as to walk inside and pull back the shower curtain.
    â€œHe’s not in there, either,” I said. “What are you doing here? What do you want?”
    â€œI want Rothman,” he snapped. “And when I find him, I’m going to tear his balls off and stuff them down his throat.”
    Too bad I hadn’t thought of that myself. “Sounds like a great idea,” I said cheerfully, “but you’ll have to take a number and get in line. Mind switching off the light? It’s after eleven. If the night nurse sees it, she’ll come riding down here on her broom and kick ass.”
    Guy Owens frowned. “You want me to turn offthe light and sit here waiting for him in the dark?”
    I shrugged. “Why not? That’s what I’m doing. Two’s company, right? Pull up a chair.”
    Without further discussion, Owens did as he was told. He grabbed the wooden chair away from Joey’s narrow student-style desk and pulled it along behind him as he returned to the light switch beside the door. In a moment the room was once more plunged into murky darkness. I heard him drop onto the chair with a heavy sigh.
    â€œWhat do you want him for?” I asked.
    There was a long stony silence in the cabin. It lasted so long that I began to wonder if maybe I had only imagined asking the question rather than really saying it aloud. Guy Owens’ answer, when it came, was little more than a strangled croak.
    â€œShe’s pregnant, goddamnit! Fifteen years old and pregnant. That worthless little fucker knocked her up! I’m going to kill him.”
    Michelle Owens wasn’t my daughter, thank God, and as far as I knew, Kelly wasn’t pregnant, but I knew exactly how Guy Owens felt.
    â€œThat settles it,” I said. “As soon as he shows up, you get first crack at him.”
    There was another pause, a little shorter this time. When he spoke again, the mildly jesting tone of my comment seemed to have defused the atmosphere enough to convince Guy Owens that we were both on the same side. He was a burdened man desperate to unload on someone, even a relative stranger. I was it. Possibly sitting there inthat darkened room made it easier for him to open up.
    â€œMisha takes after her mother,” he said forlornly. “Whenever Fran got pregnant, she was always sick as a dog from the very first day. Her morning sickness lasted for a full three months all four times. I could almost set my watch by it. I should have figured it out myself when she looked so terrible all week, but I didn’t.
    â€œAt lunch today one of the nurses took me aside and told me she had noticed that Misha was losing weight. She was afraid there might be some serious physical problem. The nurse set up an appointment with a G.P. in Wickenburg so I could take her there this afternoon right after Group. He called me with the results just a little while ago. ‘There’s nothing wrong with your daughter,’