cash so his parents wouldn't find out. They were out for a few hours driving around, and David didn't hit a single thing even though it was night. He could read maps and everything.
Brandy crashed into a dark mood when he told her they had to go home. She wanted to stay on the road forever. They had money, credit cards. 'Why not split?'
David snorted. He was angry at her getting him all messed up again. He had long since sobered up, and by ten-thirty he was thinking about all the cops she'd talked to in the park and given their names. That was an irresponsible thing to do, considering that bum who'd seen them there. He was worried about that bum.
'Come on,' Brandy whined. 'It's early. Don't be such a dork.'
'Look, Bran, my mom will be home soon. And I have stuff to do.'
She blew air through closed lips. 'What stuff?'
'I'm not sure. Who knows, he may have been breathing. Maybe I should make sure he's dead.' He didn't mention the bum, didn't want to scare her.
'So what if he's alive? He'll die soon. How long could he live without food?'
'It was your dumb idea that they try another dog tracker. If they get Zumech and Peachy out there, for sure they'll find him tomorrow. When they do, he better be dead.'
'It's your own stupid fault. You should have made
'What's that?'
'Obsessive compulsive. You know.' She twirled her finger around her bangs.
'Shut up, you idiot. I'm ADD.'
She snorted. 'Crazy is crazy.'
'You don't know what you're talking about,' David raged.
'You're so fucking crazy, David. What difference does it make?'
'Don't call me crazy!' David said menacingly. Sometimes she got so flaky he wanted to squeeze her neck to shut that damn blabbing mouth of hers.
'Well, what do you want to do about it, asshole?'
'I want to talk to Zumech.'
'What for?'
'Just do,' David said vaguely.
Brandy shrugged. 'Whatever.'
He was silent as he drove to Zumech's place. He wasn't sure why he wanted to see him. He just knew that was where he needed to go. It was on the south shore of Long Island, not far away. In less than ten minutes they were cruising past his house. There was no sign of him. No sign of Peachy in the dog run. The lights were on in the house, but no one came to the door when they rang the bell. He had an idea. He tried the side door of the garage. It was open. Zumech's car was there, but it was locked. The garage had a weird smell. David poked around for a few minutes, looking for the source. When he found it, Brandy realized what he was doing. They gave each other the high five because now they really could fake out any tracker alive.
In great spirits, they drove back into the city across the bridge, and the car was back in the garage long before midnight.
'See you,' David said when they got outside.
'What are you talking about?'
'You're going home now.'
'No, I'm coming with you.'
'Uh-uh. You take too many risks. I have to do this myself.' The truth was he was getting tired of her and wanted to fix the situation himself. It was serious now. He had to do this thing his own way.
'You're not treating me right!' she said accusingly. She looked really mad.
His cheek twitched at the unfair accusation. It was the kind of thing his mother said to his father. He relented.
'Oh, all right. Just do what I say and keep quiet.'
A dog walker in a sweat suit jogged by with a golden retriever on a retractable leash. David hailed a cab, shaking his head at having given in. It made him feel like a loser. She got in with him, all cheerful again, and they took a cab to the West Side.
They entered the park in their usual place, walked north, watching for homos, the homeless, and the place where the lights ended and the Ramble began. Across the water, near the spot where the tracking dog had lost the missing man's scent, was the same girl who'd been hanging around last night. She was sitting alone on a bench under the light where the police call box was.
Brandy shuddered. 'That girl has a death wish,' she said.
At least she didn't turn to look at them as they turned east and went deeper into the park. David didn't hear the remark. He was thinking about the bum who always bothered them, who'd seen them last night and happened to be a piece of scum no one in the world would miss. He was excited by his plan to rid the earth of a troublesome cancer.
Twenty-seven
Pee Wee James had no watch and didn't look at the clock in the precinct when he was released by the police. All he knew was that the sun was high in a sky so blue it hurt his eyes. He looked down at his feet as he shuffled out onto the sidewalk. He was trying to figure things out. He had no actual memory of how long he had been at the station or what he had told the Chinese cop or the other guy-maybe it was two guys-who talked to him before letting him go.
He was sure he hadn't told them anything about the game with the two kids-a twenty a day for a long time. Pee Wee wanted a dog, and that was enough to take care of a dog for sure. He thought about that twenty a lot. He was torn between getting the twenty from the kids, or dealing separately with the guy in the cave. If he helped the guy, maybe he'd get a bigger reward, enough to go down south where it was warmer.
Pee Wee wondered if the man was still there. Those kids were so high they didn't even think to gag him, didn't tie him up. He'd watched the whole thing and knew if the jogger came to, he might be able to crawl out. Pee Wee had slept in that cave out of the rain himself, more than once. In AA they always said it was important to have a goal. Pee Wee James had a goal. He was going to check to see if the guy was still there, make sure he was okay.
Central Park was a strange place. The paths were black at night, and not even Captain Reginald knew everything. The boss of the park traveled off-road in his Jeep three, four times a day, making the rounds. When he saw Pee Wee in the playgrounds, looking through the garbage cans for the leftovers the nannies left behind, the captain always moved him along. But not even the captain knew he didn't leave the park to sleep somewhere else as he was supposed to.
And no one knew about the cave that used to be a runoff for water from the rowboat lake a hundred years ago when the park was built and the lake was higher, covering everything that was now swamp. It had been several hundred feet larger at this end, and at least six feet higher. But Pee Wee was a historian. He knew about the iron gate over the cave and the foliage that covered it.
When he left the police station, he made his way to Eighth Avenue. During the morning, he'd eaten two sandwiches and drunk several cups of coffee. He'd washed up in the public men's room of the precinct, and all in all he was pretty pleased with himself-happy with his new clothes, the pair of sneaks that fit him pretty well, the socks, khaki pants, black T-shirt, and white sweatshirt with a green palm tree on it and ' Florida ' spread wide across the front. Best of all, he'd gotten a quilted maroon jacket that looked waterproof and would prove useful when the season changed. But he had a mother of a hangover, was not entirely clear about what was going on. He was getting the shakes, too.
The weather was warm and dry. Pee Wee was not surprised that no one from the cops offered to drive him back to his home in the park. In fact, the plainclothes officer who let him go gave him five dollars and discouraged him from returning there. He was used to it. Words had no impact on him. Cops had been accusing him of
