Jared goes undercover to try and discover the truth behind Justin's injuries, learning some shocking discoveries along the way.

Two Days Later -

"You do realize how unorthodox this is," Billy Renfro informed his guests, who were presently sitting around him in his cramped, stifling office. He dotted his brow with an old-fashioned handkerchief to remove the perspiration there, silently bemoaning the fact that he had to work in such an antiquated building. "If the city council ever finds out what I'm doing..."

"Billy, you know we won't say a word," Craig assured him quietly, glad that the man operating the surveillance equipment in the corner was an old acquaintance of his. He and the deputy, Charlie Griswold, had run into each other at the small barber shop down the street one day about a year ago, bonding over cups of coffee as they waited their turn for a haircut, and it had become a regular ritual since then every eight weeks or so. He had never realized how such a simple encounter, though, would come in handy in this situation. He was grateful, however, that both men knew him and were, therefore, comfortable enough with both him - and his son - being in the room. He would not have been content to just sit on his hands back home while this was going on; there was far too much at stake.

Billy sighed as he nodded. "You'd better not," he told them. "Or this kid's attorney will do his best to throw out any conviction on a technicality, whether he can legitimately or not. Just make sure you stay quiet, no matter WHAT is said."

Craig exchanged a look with his son before nodding; Justin was sitting next to him on the opposite side of Billy's rather dilapidated, wooden oak desk, anxiously playing with his hands clasped in his lap. "He won't be able to hear us, will he?" he asked, voicing the same question his son wanted to ask.

Billy shook his head. "No," he admitted. "But I want to make sure I can hear everything clearly that's being said. And I know you want your son vindicated of any wrongdoing, or you wouldn't be here. So...just stay out of the way, keep quiet, and let us do our jobs, okay?"

Craig huffed a little indignantly in insult, but finally nodded tersely. "Okay, okay," he grumbled as they heard what sounded like a door opening and closing over the listening equipment. Billy placed his fingers over his lips as he nodded over at his deputy, who gave him an affirmative thumbs up that everything seemed to be working properly. Billy nodded in satisfaction as he quietly sat back down in his chair with Craig and Justin, waiting with hitched breath in the pregnant silence.

Justin could feel beads of nervous perspiration breaking out on his forehead; how he wished at that moment that Brian was here with him! He wanted him there so badly for support, but it had been hard enough getting the okay for him and his father to sit in on this clandestine operation as it was. He knew, however, that a certain someone would be anxiously waiting for him back at the Walkers, and that he would want to hear all about it upon his return. I only hope it's good news I can give him, he thought fretfully; he tensed then as he heard some additional kind of noise through the surveillance equipment. Glancing to his side, he realized that the worried expression on his face was mirrored by his father's as Craig nodded tersely back at him.

Same Time...Across Town

Jared wiped the sweat from his forehead with the hem of his tee shirt, his legs crossed at the ankles and his back leaning against the front of his friend's tattered couch. Doug's apartment was fairly cool, actually, with the overhead ceiling fan presently turned up on high, but as the minutes ticked by - and the arrival of his friend became more imminent - his anxiety level rose substantially. The other day, he had been so sure this was the right course of action to take; not only to clear his own name, but to prove to his brother and parents once and for all that he was not some cold-hearted bastard, bent on hurting his family. While he may have been angry with Justin over the Kinney boy - and astounded that his father had the balls to throw him out of the house and take Justin's side - he would never stoop so low as to physically harm his younger brother. He couldn't stand the idea of being implicated in Justin's injury at the track, let alone winding up in jail as a result. No, this was the only way to totally exonerate himself, and extricate himself from the situation. That meant, however, that he had to pull this off without making his normally shrewd friend suspicious; therein lay the challenge.

He could feel the thin wire scratching his skin as he moved, wondering how he was going to manage to look nonchalant in the face of such a monumental, critical task. But he had no choice; if he couldn't convince Doug to tell the truth about what had happened, there was a damn good chance he would be charged with assault just like the other boy was. He couldn't afford an attorney to fight the charge if that occurred, and he had a feeling there was a good chance his father and mother wouldn't help with one, either. No, this was it. This was his one chance to prove himself, so he didn't dare blow it.

Reaching over to grab the marijuana cigarette lying on the lip of a metal ashtray sitting on the floor, he inhaled deeply, trying to calm his nerves. He savored the long drag, feeling the effects of the drug as it slowly relaxed him; he let out a sigh, feeling the tension slowly ebbing away, just in time to jump, startled, as he heard the lock to the apartment door rattling. He licked his lips nervously and inhaled a deep breath, praying that the wire was working perfectly and every sound, every word that was about to be uttered would be recorded. Would it be enough, though?

He held his breath as he heard a key being inserted into the lock, and then someone trying to open the door before they gave the wooden door a shove; it always HAD stuck whenever it had been raining, and a morning shower had made the air quite humid. He heard Doug utter an expletive under his breath as he finally entered, and then his footsteps stopping short.

"What the fuck are YOU doing here?" Doug growled, glaring over at him.

Jared made a show of shrugging, seemingly nonchalantly, before he turned his head and replied, "Where the hell else wouldI go? I was kicked out of my house, remember? And thanks to you, I don't even have a damn dollar to my name now."

Doug shuffled closer, eyeing the other boy carefully. "How did you get in here? And I don't remember forcing you to go along with me to the track," he reminded him.

"You told me about the extra key down in Scooter's office, remember? Hanging up with all those other keys he has on the wall?"

Doug nodded after a moment in recollection. "Oh, yeah." He narrowed his brows at his friend. "So nice that you could hang out here and smoke my weed while my ass was sitting in jail, then."

"That wasn't MY fault," Jared maintained stiffly.

"Oh, yeah?" Doug walked over and snatched the joint out of Jared's hand before taking a puff. "Well, how did they find out what I did, then, Jared? Huh?" he asked, as he glowered down at him.

"What the fuck, Doug? Was I supposed to take the fall for you? I had nothing to do with spiking my brother's drink, and you know it."

"Maybe not," Doug conceded harshly as Jared's heart jumped into his throat over his friend's words, clearing him of any complicity. "But you didn't have to rat on me."

"They asked me if I had anything to do with it!" Jared replied defensively, even though he had actually gone to the sheriff's deputy himself voluntarily. "Someone had seen us near Headstrong's stall. What was I supposed to do, then?" The truth was, no one had actually seen them around that time - but Doug had no way of knowing that.

"Well, still..." Doug's voice trailed off. "You could have provided me with an alibi somehow."

Jared snorted as he continued his lie. "Yeah, right. After someone spotted us near the stalls just before the race? Not too likely." He paused to stare over at his friend as Doug walked over and sat down next to him. "So why did you do it exactly? Just to make sure Justin didn't win? I thought you said Robbie Andrews would win anyway." He reached over and snagged the marijuana joint from his friend's hand to take another puff.

"I still think he would have," Doug maintained. "But I had to make sure. And the only way to do that was to take your brother out of commission temporarily."

"It could have been a lot more than temporary!" Jared retorted, suddenly upset over how cavalier his friend was being. "Justin's allergic to a lot of things, and he took a nasty fall because of you; you could have killed him, Doug!"

"Nah," was the dismissal in response. "That kid has nine lives, like a fucking cat. My father told me he's going to be just fine." He sneered at his long-time friend. "Besides, you don't have to worry about your snot-nosed brother, anyway. From what YOU'VE told me, Kinney should take good care of him during his recovery period."

Justin's face darkened over Doug's harsh words. He already knew how cold the boy could be, but now he liked him even less. He didn't know shit about what Brian was like, and he couldn't be more wrong about him.

"Shut up, Doug," Jared warned him, the thought of the other boy preferring his younger brother still painful. "I just want to know why it was so fucking important that you took my brother 'out of commission,' as you eloquently put it. So you could win on a lousy twenty-dollar bet? Was it worth going to jail for, for God's sake?"

Doug glared at him. "Of course not! Do you think I'm stupid, Jared? It wasn't because of just that."

Justin's brother shook his head in confusion. "Then why the hell would you do it, then?"

"Because I had no choice!"

Jared huffed in exasperation. "Everyone has a choice!"

"Not if someone's threatening to stuff your ass in a septic tank somewhere!" Doug shuddered then.

Justin's eyes grew large as he peered over at his father in confusion. What in the world? Craig shook his head, then, signaling that he was as perplexed over that statement as he was.

"What are you talking about?" Jared asked then, bewildered.

Doug sighed as he placed the joint back down on the ashtray to explain, "I...I got into some deep shit trouble with some people. Some real heavy hitters. It was my only way out."

"Trouble?" He harrumphed in irritation over his friend's obtuseness. "Heavy hitters? What kind of trouble?"

"Big city trouble. Trouble that hounds you and keeps you awake at night, until you can't hide anymore."

Jared blew out an exasperated breath. "For fuck's sake, Doug! Will you stop being so damn melodramatic, and just tell me what you mean?"

"I'm trying to!" Doug retorted. He paused for several seconds, causing the others back at the police station to wonder temporarily if the surveillance equipment was still working properly or not, until they heard him speaking again. "You know I used to work summers out at Red Mill while we were in high school..."

Jared rolled his eyes. "How could I forget? You were always bragging about how you were able to score big out behind the grandstand."

Doug nodded. "Yeah, well, that's not all I was scoring back there," he informed him tersely.

Justin's brother snorted. "Yeah, I know; you were getting wasted, too...or stoned. Or both."

Jared shook his head in irritation. "Not just that. All that booze and pot didn't come cheap," he informed Jared. "And my parents weren't worth shit when it came to asking for money to pay for what I wanted...at least not enough for my taste."

"Your old man the doc makes a LOT of money in this town," Jared pointed out. "A lot more than MY old man does."

Craig winced over that statement, as true as it was, before Kesterson continued.

"Maybe," the other boy conceded, his lips pursed together. "But when it came to giving me some REAL spending money, my dad clammed up tighter than a virgin on her wedding night."

Jared furrowed his brow in frustration, feeling this line of conversation wasn't getting him anywhere. Thankfully, he had already gotten Doug to admit he had nothing to do with lacing Justin's drink. But he felt he needed more, and his curiosity was definitely aroused, so he asked, "What does all this have to do with Justin?"

"I'm getting to that. I made some bets at the track, thinking it would be easy to win. And at first it was. But then I had a streak of bad luck, and I needed some more betting money to recoup my losses. So I heard about some people at the track back then that could help me out..."

At last, Jared's mouth dropped open in realization. "Help you? Shit, man, are you talking about some kind of fucking loan sharks?"

"I had no choice!" Doug yelled. "What was I supposed to do? I needed more money than my old man was willing to give me, and I thought it would just be temporary until I won it back at the track." He sighed. "But I kept losing and losing...And it was like a bad cycle that never ended. Every time I lost, I kept thinking that I would win big the next time, but I didn't. I always thought if I just had a little more money..."

"Are you fucking kidding me? How about not betting at all, you asshole?" Jared snarled, his face contorted in astonishment. He thought back to all the times he had spent with his friend in high school, and how Doug's fortune had prospered and waned so dramatically at times, sometimes from week to week. His addiction to betting on the horses, then, made a lot of sense. Parts of what he was telling him, however, did NOT make sense. "So...you're telling me that you deliberately put that drug in my brother's drink so you could guarantee that he wouldn't finish? That was your way of paying back the loan sharks?"

Doug gave his friend a 'duh' look as he snorted heartlessly back at him, making Jared sick to his stomach. "That was the plan," he told him as he took another drag off the marijuana joint. "They told me if I could throw the race, they would 'forget' about my debts. We didn't count on your brother being so pigheaded, though."

"So you agreed to go along with it? Just like that?"

The other boy huffed indignantly. "No, it wasn't just like that! Do you think I would have risked landing my ass in jail - or worse - if I had been offered some other choice? They threatened to KILL me if I didn't do it, man! It was either your brother - or me."

"So you just decided to go along with it to save your sorry ass, even though Justin could have been killed? You piece of shit!"

"I had to do what I had to do," was the cryptic reply as Doug took another hit from the cigarette. He shrugged. "Besides, he came out okay."

"But it didn't solve your problem, did it? Justin WON. So what are you going to do now, hotshot? They're STILL going to be after you."

"Don't you think I know that?" Doug snapped. He sighed. "I don't know what I'm going to do! I wish I had never gotten involved with them back in high school. Then none of this would have ever happened."

"No shit," Jared muttered, his eyes narrowed in disgust.

Doug leaned back against the couch cushion, despair washing over him. "I should have just left it all alone. I didn't expect him to get killed," he murmured. "It wasn't supposed to go down that way. I did what they said. But it wasn't enough; it was never enough for them. It'll NEVER be enough for them. I'll never get my debt paid off. I realize that now." The normally cocky, arrogant boy suddenly transformed into a scared little kid as he whined to Jared, "What am I going to do?"

Jared's eyes grew wide as saucers as his friend's words sunk in. "What are you talking about, Doug? You said you didn't expect him to get killed. Justin wasn't killed." Dread filled him over the other boy's words. "Oh, shit. Please tell me you're not saying what I think you're saying," he begged, the knowledge that everything they said being overheard completely forgotten now. "You're not talking about Justin anymore...are you?"

A veil quickly covered Doug's face as he realized what he had just said. "If you know what's good for you, Jared, you'll completely forget what you just heard," he warned him flatly, his voice hard as stone. "Or you'll wind up dead, too. These are not small-town goons you're dealing with. It's a million-dollar business. The only reason they've let me live so far is because of my old man being so well-known in town, and the fact that I had access to what they needed and where they needed me to go. And they knew if they offed ME, the sheriff wouldn't let it rest." He snorted derisively. "And having the threat of death over your head makes you clam up real good, too," he explained meaningfully.

"Oh, my God." Jared felt bile rising in his throat. The name on the tip of his tongue promptly was pushed aside, but there could be no denying who Doug was referring to. "Everyone said it was an accident; an awful accident. How could you...?"

"I said drop it," the other boy told him curtly, his voice filled with deadly calm. "You want to wind up dead, too?"

"No..." Jared murmured, absolutely horrified now. "But if you don't go to the police, what will stop them from killing you anyway?"

"As long as they think I'm useful to them - and I don't rat them out - they won't do that." As least Doug hoped so; secretly he had been agonizing over the same thing. "They know I'll do what they want me to do." He took another calming drag from the joint as he added, "I have no choice now, and they know that. I'm going to have to do whatever it takes to stay alive."

Jared's face paled with dread. "So you would risk getting someone else killed again - just to save your own damn skin? You would do something like this again?"

Doug's eyes flashed. "Wouldn't you? Would YOU want to end up dead? I TOLD you, Jared! You'd better keep your fucking mouth shut now - or they will shut it FOR you! You got it?"

Jared inhaled a deep breath and let it out. "Yeah," he told him through gritted teeth. "I got it."

Doug nodded. "Smart boy," he growled. He wrinkled up his nose. "Shit, I reek. I'm going to go take a shower; a REAL shower," he told Jared as he took one last inhale from the joint and set it down. He smiled then as if were just another, ordinary day. "How about ordering us some pizza, man? They feed you shit in that jail!" He reached inside his pocket to retrieve a twenty-dollar bill and placed it down on the floor next to the other boy. "I'll even buy," he told him with a smirk. "Consider it a gift from my old man."

Jared nodded back at him silently as he stood up and headed toward the small bathroom down the hall, missing the look of horror and desolation on his friend's face.

Same Time...

Billy Renfro, face drawn with anger, made a slicing motion with his hand across the front of his neck as a signal to the deputy to close off the surveillance equipment; apparently the Kesterson boy was not going to be any more forthcoming about what he had just been discussing. What he HAD said, however, was much more than he had ever hoped to hear - and a lot more disconcerting. He turned to peer over at Craig and his youngest boy, holding his hand up to signal for them not to speak until Griswold nodded to indicate he had closed off the signal successfully.

He waited until Charlie nodded back at him before he spoke. "Holy shit," he murmured as he shook his head in shock. "I don't believe this."

"You know who that boy was talking about...don't you?" Craig replied quietly, both worry and disgust etched across his face. "It wasn't Justin. He was talking about someone being killed. He had to be talking about..."

"...Dale," the sheriff answered grimly. "Yeah, I know." He shook his head sadly. "I've seen addictions destroy lives. Alcohol, drugs, gambling. This boy seems to have all three issues. And apparently it's led him to do some horrible things."

Justin's mouth hung open in shock, a knot in the pit of his stomach. "Dale? He was responsible for his death? How?"

"Well, there was no drug panel done after his death," Billy reminded them. "Everyone assumed it was just an unfortunate accident. But now..." He stared over at his technician, who was collecting his equipment. "Now I think we know better."

Justin couldn't believe his ears. "Oh, my God," he murmured in disbelief. "He...he caused Dale's death? How could he do that?"

Renfro eyed him sympathetically. "Son, being mired in debt and feeling hopeless makes people do desperate things. Maybe it's like he says; he didn't realize Dale would wind up killed as a result of what he did. That boy has always had a rebellious streak, but personally I think he's not the smartest chip off the block. I don't think he could have engineered that on his own if he tried."

"But it happened anyway, didn't it?" Justin pointed out. "Does he realize what he did to the Walkers? How it nearly killed them as well? Does he?"

"People who are drowning in debts to loan sharks and are being threatened with bodily injury don't think about that, Justin. They only think about themselves, not the consequences," Billy told him grimly.

Craig asked, "But this should exonerate Jared, though...right? This proves he wasn't involved with what happened to Justin."

Renfro thought for a moment before finally nodding. "I reckon that would be right," he finally agreed. "Your boy appears to be telling the truth after all." He rubbed his chin thoughtfully for a moment before he stated, "Maybe there's a way we can use their little conversation just now to our advantage for both of their sakes."

Craig frowned as he glanced over at his youngest boy. "What do you mean?"

The sheriff replied quietly, "I think it's time we go talk to the Doc...and the Walkers."

Thirty Minutes Later - Walker Farm

"Try it now!" Brian shouted over to his uncle. He really had no idea what he was doing with the combine he was working on, but just like with a lot of his uncle's other equipment, this one was in less-than-ideal working order, having fallen victim to too little funds being available to properly work on it and maintain it in good functioning condition. He found, though, that helping his uncle to repair and/or improve some of his farm equipment was a satisfying substitute to working on hot rods. Not nearly as exhilarating as being able to race one down a lonely, country road. But nonetheless he did derive some pleasure out of helping his uncle out.

He held his breath as he peered up at his uncle in the driver's cab of the combine, and waited for him to turn the key in the ignition. A few seconds later, the combine sputtered and then the engine roared to life. A few more hiccups in the motor, and it finally smoothed out. He couldn't help smiling in reaction as his uncle's face also broke out into a surprised but pleased smile.

"Well, I'll be," he murmured in wonderment as he grinned down at his mechanically-talented nephew. "You did it, Son!" he shouted down at him, giving him a thumbs up of approval.

Brian blushed at the praise as he nodded up at him, wiping his greasy hands on a rag before stuffing it in his jeans pocket. He and his uncle had been working on the combine for the past couple of hours, providing him with a much-needed diversion from what he knew was occurring in town at the moment. His thoughts, however, never strayed too far from Justin. He was aware he and Craig were with the sheriff right now, hopefully gaining some information from Jared and Doug about what had happened at the track the other day.

He heard his uncle shut the motor off before hopping down onto one of the huge tires and then jumping deftly onto the ground. "That's the smoothest it's sounded in ages," he admitted to his nephew with grudging respect. It's going to be a big help come fall harvest. I don't know what I would have done if I wasn't able to use the baler with it." He paused as he eyed his nephew thoughtfully, a newfound respect in his eyes. "Thank you," he murmured sincerely.

Brian nodded. "I'm...I'm glad I could help." And he meant it. He wasn't sure what was happening to him. But something was changing for all of them, including him. These people were simple folk, uncomplicated, perhaps boring to someone looking in from the outside. But they were also hardy, compassionate, and they cared about him, something that was entirely new to him. They needed him, too. And he found that he liked that feeling of being important to someone, of making a difference in someone's lives.

Will tugged on the bill of his green John Deere cap, his piercing eyes squinting against the bright, mid-morning sun as he stared over at his nephew. He nodded finally, a silent acknowledgement of the truth, before he told him gruffly, "We'd best be getting back to the house for dinner."

Brian frowned; it was 12:30, way too early for that. "Dinner? Have we been out here longer than I thought, Uncle Will, or is the heat starting to get to you?" he teased him. He immediately wondered if that sarcastic response would evoke a biting retort from the other man, but to his surprise his uncle walked the couple of steps over to him and placed his hand on his shoulder.

"Time for you to learn the difference between 'dinner' and 'supper' if you're going to hang around here," he told him with a smirk. "Come on, let's go; your aunt's waiting on us." Just then, Dale's dog, Solomon, came running up to them, circling around them as he bayed to get their attention.

"See, I told you," Will pointed out. "She's sent out the cavalry to sound the alarm. That dog won't quit, either, until we do what he wants and follow him back to the house. He thinks he's Lassie sometimes."

Brian laughed. "Okay, okay," he told the dog, who hopped up and down excitedly on his feet and began to chase his tail in jubilation. "We're coming." He felt his uncle's hand remain on his shoulder as they began to walk back from the barn to the house.

Sarah glanced up as the back screen door banged, and her 'two boys' entered. "Any luck?" she inquired.

Will grinned. "Brian did it again; got old Buster started when I thought he was terminal."

Brian laughed. "Buster? Do you always name your machinery?"

Will shrugged. "Some people name their vehicles or their animals; I prefer to be different. Before you got it fixed I was calling it something else."

Brian grinned back at him. "I can imagine," he told him.

"Ready for some dinner?" Sarah asked as she placed a glass pitcher of iced tea down onto the table. "Go wash up, and I'll have it on the table by the time you're back. Got a big pot of beans and ham for you two."

Brian nodded as he walked out of the kitchen and down the hallway, heading up the steps to one of the two bathrooms located on the second floor. Will turned to follow him, only to have Sarah grab his sleeve to stop him.

"Will, I need to talk to you about something."

"What's wrong, Sarah?" Will asked, immediately picking up on the look of anxiety on her face. "Burn the cornbread?" he teased her.

Sarah shook her head. "No, Will, this is serious."

The half-smile on her husband's face disappeared as he asked, "What's going on?"

"I got a call earlier. From the sheriff."

Will's face darkened. "What did he want?" he asked quietly.

"He wants to come out and speak to us. About Dale." She watched as her husband's fists clenched together in reaction.

"What about him?"

Sarah shook her head. "I don't know. He wouldn't go over it on the phone. Said he had to talk to us face-to-face." Sarah glanced down the hallway, making sure Brian wasn't coming back down, before she continued. "What do you think it means?"

"Not sure." Will pressed his lips together, the memories of what had happened to their son flooding back into his mind. No matter how hard he tried to forget what had happened, he couldn't. "But if he's wanting to come here and talk to us, it must be important."

Sarah nodded. "Will...You know what Brian told us earlier. About Jared - and the doc's son."

Will stared over at her in dreadful comprehension. "What are you saying, Sarah?"

"I don't know!" she cried out. "I don't want to think what I'm thinking...but don't you think there's a connection there somehow? Why would Billy want to come out and speak to us now? After all these years? He must know something, Will. Something that maybe we don't want to hear."

Will opened up his arms instinctively as Sarah's eyes filled with tears; she rushed into his embrace as he wrapped his arms tightly around her. "Maybe you're right, Missy," he murmured. "But we have to, anyway. For our son's sake."