Walter finally managed to stand. He pressed a grease-stained handkerchief against the cut near his temple. Blood continued to seep through the fabric.
He looked at the broken plates scattered around him.
Then he looked at the sheriff.
There was no anger in his voice when he spoke.
"Why did you do that?"
Hollister adjusted his uniform.
"Because I told you to leave."
"I was sitting here eating breakfast."
"You were refusing a lawful instruction."
Walter looked around the diner.
Several customers had witnessed everything. Darcy stood only a few feet away. The broken glass and overturned coffee mug were still on the floor.
He understood what the sheriff was trying to do.
Hollister wanted the room to accept his version of events before anyone had a chance to question it.
The sheriff pointed toward the door.
"Settle your bill and get out."
Walter looked down at his jacket. One button had been torn loose, and the fabric near the collar was stretched.
He had worn that jacket for years.
It had belonged to his older brother before Walter inherited it. The jacket was not expensive, but he had kept it because it reminded him of his family.
He slowly reached into his pocket.
Hollister watched him with an amused expression.
"What now? You're going to call someone?"
Walter did not answer.
He removed a small, battered flip phone. The casing was scratched, and an elastic band held one corner of the battery cover in place.
The sheriff laughed.
"Go ahead. Call whoever you want. Maybe the mayor will come down here and give you a ride home."
A few customers looked at one another.
Walter ignored the remark.
He opened the phone and entered a number from memory. His fingers moved slowly because they were shaking, but he did not make a mistake.
He raised the phone to his uninjured ear.
The call connected.
A brief electronic tone sounded.
Then a woman's voice answered.
"Talk."
Walter turned slightly away from the sheriff.
His voice was quiet and rough.
"Walter speaking. I need you to listen carefully."
There was a pause on the other end.
The woman recognized his voice immediately.
"Are you hurt?"
Walter looked at the blood on his handkerchief.
"Yes."
"Where are you?"
"Pine Ridge Diner. Clearwater County."
Another pause followed.
The voice on the other end became noticeably more focused.
"What happened?"
Walter looked toward Hollister, who was still standing beside the broken display.
"The sheriff put his hands on me. I've been injured."
The woman's breathing remained steady.
"Is he still there?"
"Yes. He's standing right in front of me."
"Do not argue with him. Do not make any sudden movements. Stay where you are."
Walter glanced at the overturned table.
"I'm not going anywhere."
The woman lowered her voice.
"Dad, listen to me. I need you to stay calm. I am going to handle this."
Walter closed his eyes briefly.
He had not wanted to involve her.
He had hoped that the incident would end with an apology, perhaps a visit to the clinic, and a quiet report to someone who could investigate the sheriff's conduct.
But he had reached the point where remaining silent would only allow the situation to become worse.
"All right, Tessa," he replied.
The call ended.
Walter folded the phone and returned it to his jacket pocket.
Hollister watched him with a mocking smile.
"Finished calling for help?"
Walter did not respond.
The sheriff stepped closer.
"Let me make something clear. I don't care who you know, where you served, or what story you're planning to tell. Around here, I decide what happens."
Walter looked at him.
For the first time that morning, his expression changed.
Not dramatically. He did not raise his voice or make a threat. He simply looked at Hollister with a quiet seriousness that made the sheriff's smile fade slightly.
"You should be careful about what you do next," Walter said.
Hollister gave a short laugh.
"Are you threatening me?"
"No."
"Then stop giving me advice."
Walter lowered his handkerchief.
"I've spent most of my life trying to prevent people from making mistakes they can't take back."
Hollister stepped closer.
"Save the speech."
He turned toward the two deputies who had just entered the diner.
"Put him in the car."
Darcy immediately moved forward.
"Wait. You can't arrest him for sitting in a booth!"
Hollister pointed at her.
"Interfering with an officer will get you arrested too."
Darcy froze.
The two deputies exchanged uncertain looks. One of them, Deputy Cole, was a tall man in his late thirties who had worked under Hollister for several years. He knew the sheriff's temper and rarely challenged his orders.
The other deputy looked at Walter's bleeding temple.
"Sir, do you need medical attention?"
Walter nodded.
"I believe I do."
Hollister interrupted.
"He'll be checked after we process him."
"He's bleeding, Sheriff."
"I can see that."
Cole approached Walter and reached for his arm.
Walter did not resist.