The Next Always

damn twenty. Keep the change, he says, buy yourself a little something. He is an asshole.”

“Tear it up.”

“I’m not tearing up a twenty-dollar bill.”

“Then I will.”

“No.” Laughing now, Clare slapped a hand on it as Avery reached for it. “I’ll just mail it to him.”

“You will not.” Face flushed with temper, Avery slapped a hand over Clare’s. “No contact. I mean it, Clare. Contact of any kind encourages his type of obsession or whatever it is.”

“Where do you get that?”

“I watch a lot of cop shows since I’m not currently spending any time dating and having sex. Seriously, Clare, tear it up, give it away, spend it, but don’t send it to him.”

“Okay, you’re probably right. I’ll give it to the church or something.” She jammed it in her pocket. “I’m really glad you came by.”

“So am I.”

“Why did you come by?”

“I saw the asshole’s car when I was walking to the shop. Flashy car, dealer tag, so who else could it be? I thought I’d stop in, keep you from being bored to death. I didn’t expect to find him practically assaulting you.”

“Thanks. A lot.”

“When’s one of the girls getting in?”

Clare glanced at her watch. “Any minute. God, now I’m behind.”

“You’ll catch up. Go on and get started. Since I’m here, I think I’ll browse for a couple minutes.”

“Avery, he’s not coming back—and I wouldn’t let him in if he did.”

“I’m forced to remind you—not dating or having sex currently. I could use a good book.”

Hands in her pockets, Avery studied the shelves of new releases.

Clare sighed, got out two cups. Since her friend decided to be her sword and shield, they might as well have some coffee.

Beckett liked his timing. The way he calculated it, he’d get to Clare’s right after homework, and before dinner. So maybe he could wrangle an invite to stay. He liked his chances. They’d had a good time Saturday night, spent some time with the kids in the park on Sunday afternoon.

He’d had a good week so far with no major glitches on the job, so he figured his luck was in—right up to when he pulled up to Clare’s and didn’t see her car. But he did see Harry on the little porch with his measuring tape.

He got out of the truck, hefted the box he’d brought with him.

“I’m measuring to see how big a pumpkin we should get for Halloween. We put it on the post.”

“Good idea. What’re you going to be?”

“I’m either going to be Wolverine or the Joker.”

“Hero or villain. Tough choice.”

“We got a catalog with all kinds of costumes, but we have to pick soon. Mom gives out candy at the store on trick-or-treat night.”

“Oh yeah? I’ll have to get me some. Where’s your mom?”

“She had to go back to work for something. Mrs. Ridenour’s here until she gets back. What’s in the box?”

“Something for you guys my brothers and I made.”

“For us? What is it?”

“Let’s go in. I’ll show all of you.”

Harry bolted to the door, shouting as he shoved it open. “Beckett’s here! He’s got something for us in a box.”

It sounded like a stampede. Alva came out from the kitchen as the boys raced from different directions to surround him.

“Isn’t this a nice surprise? Boys, inside voices. Clare had to run to the bookstore. You just missed her.”

“I’m just dropping something off for the kids.”

“He made it with his brothers,” Harry said. “What is it?”

“Let’s take a look.” He crouched on the floor, put the box down, took off the lid.

“Wow.” Liam’s tone was reverent.

“Those look like . . .” Alva shook her head at Beckett.

“You made coffins?”

“Yeah.” He grinned at Harry. “Heroes and villains all deserve a decent burial, right, guys?”

“What are these?” Liam picked up a miniature headstone. “Like their shields?”

“Not exactly. Those are the headstones. You mark the grave with them so you know who’s buried where.”

Liam stared at Beckett with a nearly religious fever. “This is awesome .”

“They have their symbols on them and everything.” Murphy lifted a coffin out, opened and closed the lid on its tiny hinges. “This is for Batman.”

“This is the Hulk’s. See, it’s bigger like he is.” Harry studied it, then Beckett. “How did you know how big?”

“Measured.” He poked Harry in the belly.

“This is the coolest ever.” Overcome, Liam launched himself at Beckett. “We never had anything like this. Can we bury them? For real?”

“That’s the idea.”

“In the sandbox, for now,” Alva warned. “No digging in the yard.”

“We gotta go get the dead guys.” Harry dashed to the playroom.

“We got more upstairs.” Liam charged up the steps.

Murphy took out coffins, headstones, examining each one. “Here’s for Moon Knight and for Captain America and the Green Lantern.”

“Bad guys in there, too.”

“Mrs. Ridenour?” Harry poked out of the playroom. “Can we have something to carry them all out? The ones who aren’t dead have to go to the burying.”

“Yes, I’m sure they’d want to pay their respects. I’ll get you something.” She shook her head at Beckett again, walked back to the kitchen.

Murphy stacked coffins, opened and closed lids. “We have to decide who got killed in the war and who didn’t. My daddy got killed in the war.”

“I know.” What did he say, how did he say it? Jesus, what had he been thinking, making coffins for kids with a dead father? “I’m sorry.”

“He was a hero.”

“Yeah, he was.”

“I didn’t get to meet him first ’cause I wasn’t borned yet. Mom says he loves me anyway.”

“Count on it. I knew your dad.”

Somber interest gazed out of Murphy’s eyes. “You did?”

“We went to school together.”

“Were you his friend?”

They hadn’t really hung out together, but Beckett thought of the night they’d TP’d Mr. Schroder’s house, and the night they’d celebrated the event. “Yeah.”

“Did you go when they buried him?”

“Yeah, I did.” Horrible day, Beckett remembered. In every possible way.

“That’s good, ’cause your friends are supposed to be there.” He smiled, beautifully, then clambered up. “I’m gonna take them outside to the sandbox.” He tried to lift the box, gave a puppy-dog look. “It’s too heavy.”

“I’ll get it.”

“I got them, Harry!” Liam ran down with a small red basket, loaded with figures.