tears.
I never hated you, son, he thought. Nor did Andrea, for all her
grief. Maybe I should have picked up a pen and dropped you a note
saying so, but honest to Christ, the thought never crossed my mind.
He picked up the phone now and dialled the Bortman number in
Castle Rock, Maine.
Busy.
He hung up and sat for five minutes, looking out at the street where
Billy had learned to ride first a trike, then a bike with trainer
wheels, then a two-wheeler. At eighteen he had brought home the
final improvement - a Yamaha 500. For just a moment he could
see Billy with paralysing clarity, as if he might walk through the
door and sit down.
He dialled the Bortman number again. This time it rang. The voice
on the other end managed to convey an unmistakable impression of
wariness in just two syllables. 'Hello?' At that same moment,
Dale's eyes fell on the dial of his wristwatch and read the date - not
for the first time that day, but it was the first time it really sunk in.
It was April 9th. Billy and the others had died eleven years ago
yesterday. They -
'Hello?' the voice repeated sharply. 'Answer me, or I'm hanging
up! Which one are you?'
Which one are you? He stood in the ticking living room, cold,
listening to words croak out of him mouth.
'My name is Dale Clewson, Mr. Bortman. My son--'
'Clewson. Billy Clewson's father.' Now the voice was flat,
inflectionless.
'Yes, that's--'
'So you say.'
Dale could find no reply. For the first time in his life, he really was
tongue-tied.
'And has your picture of Squad D changed, too?'
'Yes.' It came out in a strangled little gasp.
Bortman's voice remained inflectionless, but it was nonetheless
filled with savagery. 'You listen to me, and tell the others. There's
going to be tracer equipment on my phone by this afternoon. If it's
some kind of joke, you fellows are going to be laughing all the way
to jail, I can assure you.'
'Mr. Bortman--'
'Shut up! First someone calling himself Peter Moulton calls,
supposedly from Louisiana, and tells my wife that our boy has
suddenly showed up in a picture Josh sent them of Squad D. She's
still having hysterics over that when a woman purporting to be
Bobby Kale's mother calls with the same insane story. Next,
Oliphant! Five minutes ago, Rider Dotson's brother! He says. Now
you.'
'But Mr. Bortman--'
'My wife is Upstairs sedated, and if all of this is a case or 'Have
you got Prince Albert in a can,' I swear to God -'
'You know it isn't a joke,' Dale whispered. His fingers felt cold
