‘Hey, buddies,’ he spat.
The men looked at each other.
‘Twelve years old,’ said one, shaking his head. ‘A genuine son of a bitch.’
Duke went to the weigh-in area, then sat with his mother and Geoff Riggs for the last few minutes of the PeeWee game. Donnie jogged off the field, his face red and shiny. His hair was limp with sweat.
‘You shoulda seen him out there today,’ said Geoff. ‘Ran his skinny little legs off catchin’ that ball.’ Geoff rubbed a thick hand across his shaved head, showing the sweat patches on his tank top, letting loose a blast of foul air.
Wanda leaned away. ‘Good for you, Donnie,’ she said. ‘The Midget hero.’
‘Donnie’s in the PeeWees,’ said Duke. ‘I’m Midgets.’
Wanda smiled at Geoff. ‘Duke’s gonna score a touchdown today, aren’t you, baby?’
Duke rolled his eyes. ‘Yeah, Mom…if I turn into a quarterback.’ Donnie laughed.
‘We gotta go,’ said Geoff. ‘Good luck, Duke.’
‘Thanks.’
Duke grabbed his helmet and left his mother alone in the stands. Five rows in front of her, separated by an aisle, groups of parents chatted and laughed, pointing out their kids on the sidelines. Wanda focused on her feet, rubbing the dull pink marks that scarred them. She tilted her ankles and examined the fresh red scabs at her heels. Reaching down, she hooked a nail under the hard, dry flesh and picked one free. Crystal Buchanan walked by her, stiff blonde hair, painted like a stewardess, with a flask of coffee and two plastic cups hanging from her little finger. She sat down beside her.
‘Hi Wanda,’ she said, smiling. ‘Duke playing today?’
Wanda looked at her, curious. ‘I know you’re a good Catholic…’ she said.
Crystal’s smile froze.
‘…but I’m not your Mary Goddamn Magdalene.’
‘I was trying to be nice,’ said Crystal.
‘Nope. Not buyin’ it,’ said Wanda, staring straight ahead. ‘You were lookin’ to rescue the downtrodden. Old folks, handicapped babies and whores. Crystal Buchanan, our Lord and Saviour.’
Crystal stood to leave. ‘You’re truly beyond help.’
‘Well, that’s Crystal clear,’ said Wanda. ‘Oh – and say hi to Mr Buchanan.’ Wanda had never met Mr Buchanan, but she liked the way she could make a good woman flinch.
She turned back to the field, watching as the Braves’ centre started play. He snapped the ball to the quarterback, then blocked the nose guard pushing towards him. The quarterback sprinted, but was tackled to the ground by a chunky defender and the ball popped loose. The referee blew the whistle. The game continued with players piling onto the ball, untangling, piling, untangling.
At half-time, Wanda looked at the scoreboard. The Cougars were in the lead by one point. She watched as Duke straddled his legs and bent over the ball. The players lined up on either side of him. ‘On hut two!’ yelled the quarterback. ‘Blue! Red! Hut! Hut!’ Duke snapped the ball between his legs. In seconds, the nose guard had pushed him aside and tackled the quarterback. The quarterback fumbled the ball and the nose guard recovered it. Everybody dived. The whistle blew. The quarterback turned to Duke. ‘Good job…you fuckin’ retard.’ But Duke’s eyes were on the retreating back of the nose guard as he jogged to the huddle. Duke moved quickly behind him, leading with his helmet, charging low into his kidneys.
‘Go, Dukey!’ yelled Wanda before she realised her mistake. Parents craned their necks to stare at her.
The boy collapsed onto the field, crying out through the stunned silence. His mother was on her feet, running towards him. The whistle blew and a yellow flag sailed through the air and landed at Duke’s feet.
‘Out!’ roared the referee. ‘You’re ejected. Go.’ He pointed the way.
Duke stared at him, then jogged off. He passed his coach who stabbed a finger towards him. ‘Get outta that uniform! Go sit in the stands.’
The mother of the nose guard pushed onto the field to her son.
Duke’s coach ran over to the referee.
‘I don’t want to hear it,’ said the referee, holding up his hand.
The coach’s voice was low. ‘What can I say, Mike? I agree with you.’
‘That’s good to know,’ said Mike. ‘The kid’s fucking nuts. Spearing a kid for—’
‘I know that, for Christ’s sake. You shoulda seen him in practice. Didn’t get the whole no-contact thing.’
They both looked toward the stands and saw Wanda stagger through the row, pushing Duke ahead of her.
‘Poor bastard,’ said the coach.
ELEVEN
‘I heard a scream,’ said Mae Miller.
Frank waited. ‘Did we not get a statement from you already?’ he said.
‘You didn’t. I was away until now, didn’t hear a thing about this ’til I got back. As a member of Neighbourhood Watch – your wife’s on the committee, of course – I’m well aware of the importance of keeping an eye out for suspicious activity and reporting it immediately, in this case, as soon as I got back.’
Mae Miller was eighty-six years old, slender and poised in an expensive maroon wool suit with a mandarin collar. She wore tan tights and black patent court shoes. Frank didn’t know much about makeup, but he wasn’t sure about her red lipstick. Mae Miller had taught primary school in Mountcannon for over forty years. Between the ages of four and twelve, most village children had sat in her classroom, in fear.
‘It was Friday night,’ she said, settling into a chair beside the door and sliding off green leather gloves. ‘Myself and Mrs Grant, Petey’s mother, had been playing bridge in a friend’s house in Annestown. I knew my son John was going to be home late that night, so I was staying with the Grants for company. They live, as you know, at the corner of that road that leads down to the missing girl, Katie Lawson’s house, where she lives with her mother, Martha Lawson. Her father, Matthew Lawson, of course, passed on several years ago. 1997 if I remember rightly. He was a fine man.’ Frank nodded patiently.
‘Anyway, I was up having a cup of tea in my room,’ she continued. ‘The guest room at the front of the house that overlooks the street.’
‘Did you look out?’ said Frank, moving her along. ‘When you heard the scream.’
‘I did,’ she said, nodding. ‘And I saw two people, walking down the road from the village towards the house.’
‘Men, women?’
‘A man and a woman, well, youngish, I would say, not too old. He was taller.’ She gave a short nod.
‘Did you recognise either of them?’ said Frank.
‘They looked familiar, but I can’t say for sure if the girl was young Katie.’
‘How were the couple acting?’
‘Like they hadn’t a care in the world.’
‘But the scream?’
‘Yes, that was after I had seen them out the window.’
‘Oh. I thought that’s what made you look out.’
‘No. I was looking out the window anyway. I turned to my tea, heard a scream and looked back. Then they were gone.’
She hesitated. ‘It could have been that Lucchesi boy I saw.’ She paused and leaned forward. ‘Do you remember his mother from years ago?’
Frank shook his head. ‘We weren’t here at that stage.’
‘Skirts up to her backside. I never saw a stitch of respectable clothing on her. It broke my heart that my John would have anything to do with the girl. I wouldn’t have her under my roof.’
