“Lemme ask you something,” Cal says. “When Brendan was planning out what he wanted to do in college, he tell you about it?”
“Yeah.”
“When he was thinking about doing tutoring?”
“Yeah.”
“He tell you his plan to get Caroline tickets to some singer for Christmas?”
“Yeah. Hozier. They broke up first, but, so he sold the tickets to Eugene. Why?”
Cal says, “So Brendan told you his plans, when there was no particular reason he shouldn’t.”
“Yeah. He did.”
“Which means, whatever his big idea was, there was a reason why you shouldn’t know about it.”
Trey is silent. Cal is quiet too, leaving him to turn that over and fit it into his mind. At the edge of the woods, the branches hang heavy with leftover rain. Above them, swallows arc tiny and black against the cloud, sending down their high twittering.
After a few moments Trey says suddenly and savagely, “I wouldn’ta ratted him out.”
“I know that,” Cal says. “I bet he did too.”
“Then why would he not—”
“He wanted to keep you safe, kid,” Cal says gently. “Whatever he was getting into, he knew it could bring trouble. Bad trouble.”
Trey goes silent again. He picks threads out of a hole in the knee of his jeans.
“I think we can make a fair guess,” Cal says, “that when Brendan left your house that day, acting like he had somewhere important to be, it was connected to his plan some way or other. I’m not taking it as definite, but I’m gonna go ahead and work on that assumption. Either he was skipping town because he got spooked, or else he was going to do something that would move that plan forwards.”
The kid is still messing with his jeans, but his head has tilted towards Cal. He’s listening.
“He promised you the bike that same afternoon, and a couple days earlier he borrowed a few bucks from Fergal and said he’d pay him back. So it doesn’t seem likely he intended to leave for good. He might have been planning on lying low just for a few days, till whatever spooked him had died down, but in that case I’d expect him to take his phone charger, deodorant, coupla changes of clothes. Seeing as all he took with him was his cash, it seems more likely he was headed to buy something, or to give someone money.”
Trey says, low and tight, “And they kidnapped him.”
“Could be,” Cal said. “We’re not far enough on to settle on that yet. Something could’ve gone wrong, maybe, and he had to run. Where would he meet someone? He have anywhere special he liked to go?”
Trey’s eyebrows twitch together. “Like a pub?”
“Nah. Somewhere private. You said when he needed a little privacy, he went up the mountains. Anywhere in particular that you know of?”
“Yeah. One time he said he was going for a walk and I followed him, ’cause I was bored. Only when I found him, he was just sitting there. He gave me a clatter and told me to fuck off ’cause he wanted some privacy. Like that?”
“Sounds about right,” Cal says. “Where was he?”
Trey jerks his chin at the mountains. “Aul’ cottage. Empty, like.”
“How long ago was that?”
“Few years back. But he went there again after. ’Cause I followed him a couple more times, when I was bored again.”
For a minute Cal sees the kid trudging up those bare windy hillsides, trailing after the one person in his life worth following. “You look there since he left?”
Trey says, “Looked everywhere.”
“Any sign of him?”
“Nah. Bits of aul’ rubbish, just.” The kid’s eyes skid away. The memory is a hard one. He went there hoping he would find either Brendan or something he’d left, a message, and afraid he would find something bad.
Cal says, “Any reason why you didn’t tell me about this place?”
Trey gives him the moron stare. “Why would I? It’s not where he went.”
“Right,” Cal says. “I’d like to take a look at it for myself. Could you tell me how to get there?”
“Up past our place maybe a mile. Then off the road, up the mountain a bit. Through some trees.”
“Uh-huh. You gonna send out a search party when I’m not back in a few days?”
“I know the way. I could bring you there.” The kid is up off his knee, halfway to a runner’s stance, like one word from Cal and he’ll shoot right off.
“I’d rather the two of us didn’t get spotted wandering around together,” Cal says. “Specially not round there.”
Trey’s face is lit up fiercely. “I’ll go on my own. No one’ll spot me. Lend me your phone, I’ll take photos, bring them back to you.”
“No,” Cal says, more sharply than he intends. “You stay away from that cottage. You hear me?”
“Why?”
“In case, is why. Did you hear me?”
“I’m not gonna get kidnapped. I’m not thick.”
“Good for you. You stay away from it anyway.”
“I wanta do something.”
“That’s what you got me into this for. To do things. So let me do them.”
The kid is opening his mouth to argue. Cal says, “You wanna do something useful, get us dinner.” He puts the rifle into Trey’s hands and nods towards the edge of the wood. The rabbits have come out to feed.
After a second of indecision, Trey drops the argument. He eases himself slowly into position, settles the rifle against his shoulder and squints down the sight. “Take your time,” Cal says. “We’re in no hurry.”
They wait and watch. The rabbits are feeling frisky; a few half-grown ones chase each other through the grass, springing high, in the long slants of gold light slipping under the cloud. P.J. is singing to his sheep as he looks them over: scraps of some plaintive old ballad, too fragmented to catch, drift across the fields.
“That big guy there,” Cal says softly. One rabbit is turned broadside on to them, working away at a clump of white-flowered weed. Trey shifts the rifle a fraction, lining up his sights. Cal hears the long whisper of his breath, and then
