'Me neither. Don't look at me like that. You're still the prettiest man I've ever seen. It's no particular accomplishment. On the other hand, you're the biggest liar I've ever met. That took some work.'
Clutching the rail, he stared downward. At the edges of the mud, the underbellies of dead fish showed white, and farther down the beach, signs warned bathers to avoid the area. Gulls swarmed. 'I can't help it.' The words seemed to drop away from him, to leave him lighter. 'I don't even know if I can explain.'
'Try.'
He sighed. 'This isn't the world we were born for.'
'All right.'
'You know what I mean.'
'Do I?'
He brought his fist down on the rail. 'Is it any wonder they...?' His mouth moved silently.
'Get it out.' She took hold of his sleeve. 'Sooner or later, you're going to have to tell me.'
On the beach, several of the gulls lifted until a gust kited them closer. They shrieked with reptilian ferocity. Rage squeezed wheezing cries from their bodies, and two of the largest screamed to a landing, then jabbed their way through the pigeons. Gray and filthy, another lighted on the rail nearby. A wet morsel dangled from its beak.
'Why do I feel like Tippi Hedren all of a sudden?' She turned her back to the wind. 'And I'm freezing. Let's get out of here.'
But his gaze swept along the sand to where more gulls descended heavily. 'There must be someplace we could live, someplace that doesn't make you feel like life is just...an infection on the planet.'
'Somewhere
'Some days, nights really, when I can tell the days from the nights, I think about how I have nothing to show for my life, about how easy it would be to just end this. But they're counting on me.'
Now terns and gulls swarmed across the sand below. A few slate gray pigeons bobbed amid the horde; then a gull raced forward, wings canted, beak hooking, and the pigeons pattered rapidly away.
'The waves sound so far away,' she said. 'Like in a shell. Don't stare at the beach like that. You're making me nervous. I didn't report that corpse. All right? I'm in this. I'm in it good now. Don't you think it's time you trusted me?' She watched a muscle twitch below his left eye. 'Don't you want to talk about it, Steve?'
It took a minute. 'What did you call me?' Heat worked to his face.
As she marched away, the gulls rose, wings slapping like banners.
He caught her arm. 'How long have you known? How did you...?'
'Give me some credit. After all, I'm a cop too. Kind of.' She shrugged away. 'Besides, it wasn't as difficult as all that, not that big a deal.' She turned up her collar. 'Just took a little digging is all. Barry Hobbes is one of five people known to have been killed by Ernest Leeds three years ago. This morning I made a few phone calls. It seems Officer Hobbes had a partner. Tall, blond, name of Steven Donnelly. Apparently, Officer Donnelly vanished shortly after being exonerated in his partner's death.' She released a fractured breath. 'How'm I doing?'
They walked slowly. The wind groaned.
'Is that it?' he asked at last.
'One other thing. Ernest Leeds was blown to pieces in full view of over a dozen state troopers. Yet these recent killings bear all the earmarks of the murders attributed to him...and now you're here. It can't be a coincidence. Don't you think it's time you told me what the hell is going on?'
'Your lips are practically blue.'
The drawer coughed open in a snarl of socks and shirts, one glove, a ski mask.
'What are you looking for? Perry? Answer me.'
The boy's glance skimmed in her direction. She still wore the same old sweater she'd had on for days, all stretched out and soft-looking. If she could stand up, it would hang to her knees, but now it had twisted itself around her, the neck pulled so that one pale shoulder poked through. He looked away. 'I can't find that jogging suit with the hood, you know, the blue one.'
'That's because it's such a mess in here.' She forced herself not to tug against the ropes. From where he'd positioned her chair, she could just see a corner of the mirror. She found she couldn't look away from the snarl of her hair, the puffy flesh, the way her complexion took on an almost greenish hue in this light.
'What's the matter?' he demanded. 'What? How come you're staring like that?'
She made herself face him. 'You've lost more weight. And those pants are too short now.'
'So?' His frayed flannel shirt wouldn't stay tucked in. He'd made additional holes in his belt with a nail, and the extra length of it dangled from his belt loop.
'You should let me help you straighten up. Perry, did you hear me?'
He didn't answer, but a moment later he began picking things up off the floor and tossing them into the bathroom, quickly creating a heap of soiled clothing. Then he shoved a different heap into the closet and slammed the door. 'I'll straighten up and stuff,' he muttered, his eyes slanting to the bed. For a moment, he struggled to smooth it into shape. 'I'm so achy.' He sprawled on the wrinkled bedspread. 'The backs of my legs feel frozen.' He turned onto his back and stared down the length of his jeans at her, while he tried to push down the rumpled corner of the bedspread with his foot.
'You were out too long,' she told him. 'You should let me make the bed.'
He peered at her uncertainly, bunching up the sheets with one hand so she wouldn't see the stains.
'You're such a boy. Please, let me. This place needs a good cleaning.'
He turned his head as though watching something beyond the walls. She was accustomed to that look, to that strange attention to a world beyond the one she could see. She even knew he might suddenly resume speaking an hour from now as though no pause had taken place. She knew too many things.
He turned over on his stomach and mumbled something into the pillow.
'What? Perry, what?'
He barely lifted his face. 'I said it's clean enough.'
'You can trust me. Where could I go?' She saw his hand tighten around the bedpost. 'You can untie me.'
Propping himself on one elbow, he turned and stared, calculating. 'Maybe later. I got to wash your hair again. I'll heat up some water.'
'It's all right.'
'Such long hair.'
'Your fingernails are filthy.'
'Such a pretty color.'
'Don't start anything. Please. Anyway, yours is long too.'
'I want you to feel better and stuff. I mean it.'
'Why were you out so long today?' She smothered the panic in her voice. 'Perry?' He turned his back to her, but she saw the tension in his shoulders: it made her stomach clench.
'Oh, I almost forgot.' Suddenly, he bounded off the bed and lunged into the other room. 'Where's my jacket?' He hurried back in. 'I brought you all this stuff the other night, but I didn't give it to you 'cause you were...you know.' He fumbled through the pockets, dumping things on the bed. 'See? There's a new comb and perfume and stuff.' He stood in front of her, holding up each small item in turn for her to see.
'The perfume is opened.' Her voice broke. 'Oh God, whose is it? What did you do? Where did you get this?'
'What do you mean? Don't talk about that! Just...!'
'No, I'm sorry--I didn't mean it!' Pressing her head back against the chair, she wept. 'Don't hit me! Please! Oh please, don't hurt me. Oh God, why doesn't somebody help me?'
'You're so pretty.' All the light had drained from Steve's face. 'I've never known anybody with eyes like that before,' he went on. 'Sometimes I think they're blue, sometimes I think...'
'They're a muddy green, and now you're really making me nervous.' Kit tossed the Styrofoam cup into a trash bin. Slowly, they headed across the boardwalk toward the jeep. 'Please don't think you have to handle me every minute, all right? I'm on your side. Would it be so hard to just tell me? Just straight out?' She crammed her
