Home Invasion - J. A. Johnstone [44]
Jack saw a couple of police cars in the parking lot of the supermarket, but they were both empty. He supposed the cops were out on foot, mingling with the crowd so they could keep order. Rowdy saw some of their teammates from the football team and called out to them. As the two groups moved to join each other, a pickup with half a dozen more teenage boys in the back pulled to the side of the road next to them. The kids piled out.
“This is the biggest thing to hit this town in a long time,” one of them said.
Another gestured toward the water tower at the edge of town, which was lit up at night. “Biggest thing since the state championship.”
“Yeah, but that was a good thing,” Jack said. “This sucks. It’s not right, what they’re doin’ to Mr. McNamara.”
That brought a burst of profanity-laced agreement from the other boys. One of them added, “It’s all because of those damn wetbacks.”
Several of them turned to look at the boy who had spoken, whose name was José Gonzales. He spread his hands and said, “What? My family was here when Stephen F. Austin was. We’re Texans. I got no use for those criminals and drug smugglers from south of the border.”
“Yeah, well, I feel sorry for the honest people who have to live over there,” Steve said.
“There’s not many of those anymore,” Rowdy put in. “We oughta go to war with Mexico, that’s what we oughta do. It’s gonna take our army to put all those damn cartels outta business.”
Jack said, “The politicians will never do that. You can just forget it.”
José nodded. “Yeah. They don’t got the cojones for that.”
Rowdy nudged Jack with an elbow and nodded toward a blond woman in a dark blue dress making her way through the crowd toward them. He said, “Look at that babe. She’s gotta be one of the reporters. Anybody that hot must be on TV.”
“Yeah, and the guy behind her with the camera is probably a clue, too,” Jack said dryly.
The woman came to a stop and held out a cordless microphone toward them. “Could I ask you boys some questions?” she asked with a dazzling smile.
Rowdy didn’t bother trying to tear his eyes away from her cleavage as he nodded and said, “Sure.”
“Do you go to school here in Home?”
“Yeah, we’re all members of the varsity football team.”
She looked like she was impressed by that. Jack would have been willing to bet that she wasn’t, not really, but she knew what she was doing and how to get what she wanted.
“Do you know Pete McNamara?”
“Of course, we know Pete,” Rowdy said. He had taken over as the spokesman for the group. “He coached Little League when we were all playing.”
“So you consider him a friend, a mentor?”
“Yeah, he’s a great guy.”
“Are you upset about the things being said about him?”
“Wouldn’t you be, if somebody claimed that a friend of yours shot some people without good reason?”
“Do you think he had a good reason?”
“Of course, he did! Those Mexicans broke into his house and killed his wife.”
Jack saw a momentary gleam in the blonde’s eyes. Rowdy had played right into her hands by using a phrase like “those Mexicans” and sounding so contemptuous. He had just sent out the message to whoever watched this footage that the citizens of Home were ignorant racists.
Never mind the fact that Jorge Corona and Emilio Navarre actually were Mexican citizens. Truth didn’t matter much anymore.
“But it’s been established that Emilio Navarre never fired his weapon,” the reporter went on. “How could he have been a threat to Mr. McNamara?”
“He had a gun,” Rowdy replied with a frown.
“A lot of people have guns. If they don’t use them, they can’t hurt anybody.”
It was hard to argue with a statement like that, even though the logic behind it was false. And the blonde knew that.
“But they broke into Pete’s house,” Rowdy protested. “And they shot Mrs. McNamara.”
“She was injured only after Mr. McNamara fatally wounded Jorge Corona. So isn’t it possible to say that Mr. McNamara was responsible not only for the death of Mr. Corona, but also for what happened to his wife?”
Jack had had as much as he could swallow. More,