“Crying. Praying, I think.”
“Both. You apparently weren’t the only one who heard me. Get some sleep.”
He closed his eyes again and we left.
IT HAD STARTED to drizzle by the time we walked back out to the car. We sat in the front seat for a moment. I looked over at the man next to me, and something in me gave way. This happens every so often; some barrier within me suddenly crumbles, some barrier I haven’t even realized was there. I reached over and pulled him closer, stretching up to kiss him. He didn’t balk at it, and returned the kiss enthusiastically. “What was that for?” he asked.
“For — I don’t know — standing by me, I suppose.”
He smiled and kept his arm around me. We didn’t say anything more to one another that night, just crawled into bed when we got home and held on to each other. That said all that needed saying.
25
I AWOKE WITH A START in the middle of the night, scared. I had been having a nightmare, one in which I went to the hospital, only to be told that Steven had died unexpectedly during the night. I must have made a noise or something, because Frank woke up and pulled me closer, so that my head was on his chest. “You okay?” he asked in a drowsy voice.
“Yes,” I lied, wanting nothing more than to pick up the phone, to call the hospital to confirm that I wasn’t having some psychic experience, a prescient dream. Eventually, the sounds of rain falling outside and Frank’s breathing lulled me back to sleep.
Frank had already gone to work when I awoke the next morning. Bea was up and had hot coffee waiting for me. It was a gray day outside, and I had a gray mood to match it, but Bea was full of energy. I tried not to dampen her spirits. She had let the dogs in the house, and seeming to understand their luck, they were on their best behavior. Cody had started training them not to mess with him — each of them had felt the claws of Wild Bill.
Frank had filled his mother in on the news about Steven, and she asked me a few questions about what had happened out on the beach. “I’m so sorry all of this happened,” she said. “I was hoping we could have a belated Christmas together.”
“If you don’t mind hanging around in Las Piernas for another day, we can celebrate it tonight.”
“If you two don’t mind my being here—”
“Not at all. It was a nice surprise. You helped me cope with last night — I appreciate it.”
She was pleased by this, and I left her in a good mood.
I MADE MY way through Las Piernas’s rain-washed streets at an irritating snail’s pace. Traffic was at a crawl. I listened to the noisy staccato of rain pummeling the cloth top of my Karmann Ghia while my windows fogged up. I tightened my grip on the wheel in impatience.
As soon as I got to work, I called St. Anne’s to check up on Steven. Not wanting to wake him if he was sleeping, I asked for a friend of mine on the staff there, Sister Theresa. She was happy to hear from me. I explained why I was calling.
“Mr. Kincaid, is it? Well, he’s doing much better.”
“You already know who he is?”
She laughed. “There’s a constant stream of nurses in and out of that poor boy’s room. He’s quite handsome, you know. I only hope it doesn’t cause him to be denied his rest. Detective Harriman had a guard placed at his door, and I’m beginning to think it was to protect the young man from our staff. I have looked in on him, and I must say he does look like a sleeping angel.”
“Don’t go forgetting your vows, Sister. He likes older women.”
She found this highly amusing. She encouraged me to say hello to her if I stopped by to see him.
I worked on a follow-up story based on what Louisa Parker had told us. I called Pete Baird and found out that they were still waiting for a court order to look for adoption records.
“Sorry to hear about that kid getting hurt last night,” he said. “I like him.”
“Me too.”
“You know about the slingshot?”
“Slingshot?”
“Yeah, they found a hunter’s slingshot on the pier last night — the lab guys say it might have been used to launch that rock. They make these super-slingshots now — kids carry them around; they’re a real pain in the ass as far as we’re concerned. Lots of property damage. More accurate than the old-forked-twig-and-rubber-band routine we used when I was a kid. The lucky thing is, only a few places in town sell them, so if he bought it locally, we may be able to track down the buyer.”
“He left it on the pier?”
“He may not have left it. Probably dropped it when he ran off. There’s a partial print on it, but we can’t tie it to anyone with a sheet.”
“Somehow I get the feeling that this is Thanatos’ first and only crime spree.”
“For an amateur, he’s doing a bang-up job of it.”
“Yeah, well, he’s had almost fifty years to plan it.”
“So you’re convinced it’s this Grant kid?”
“Think about it,” I said. “Some bully picks on you every day. One day while he’s punching on you, your mom comes along and sends him flying into a wall. But what should be the most glorious day of your life becomes the beginning of hell on earth. The other kids, who’ve never treated you right, all point the finger at your mother. Your mother is taken from you, and after being bounced around like a bad check, you end up under the thumb of the bully’s mother. Maybe you wait around praying for your mother to be released from prison, to come and rescue you.
