27
The day before school was to reopen, Salmon met Fearn coming out of the local store. For a moment, the two men stood looking at one another. Fearn, his face set hard in a scowl, gave a nod.
Salmon noted the swelling around Fearn’s face, a black and blue bruise that ran from his ear down across his cheek to his jaw. It looked vicious. “Jesus, Fearn, what the hell happened to you?”
Fearn’s scowl did not diminish. “I want to talk to you, Mr Salmon. When you have a minute.”
Salmon’s stomach knotted. He moved from one foot to the other, not knowing what to say or do. This was clearly about Helen and the time they had spent together. “All right,” he said at last.
“No, it’s not all right.” Fearn took a step closer. He shuffled, in obvious pain. For a second or two, his face screwed up wit
