“I don’t have a good track record with cars.”
“Auggie, I trust you.”
In that moment, with a huge smile breaking over his face, Auggie Lopez had never been more beautiful. He was studying the floor, rubbing his knees, and he said, “Yeah, ok. I can be careful.”
So they walked back to Theo’s—or rather, Theo coasted on his bike, and Auggie walked. And Theo grabbed a bag of tools from the garage, and he got the keys from Ian’s nightstand and the gun from where he’d hidden it. He tossed the keys underhand to Auggie when he got back outside.
“Please tell me you’re sure about this,” Auggie said, the keys jingling as he caught them.
“I’m sure.”
They drove toward Smithfield. Auggie followed Theo’s directions, handling the car like he had a brick on the brake: stopping hard at every intersection, barely getting the Malibu over thirty. To be fair, the Malibu was making an awful grumbling noise, but Theo didn’t think that was the problem.
He squeezed Auggie’s shoulder as they idled at a light.
“You’re a good driver,” Theo said.
Auggie blew out a breath; his shoulder was tense under Theo’s touch.
“And I understand that you are now living out your nightmare of Driving Miss Daisy.”
With a shaky laugh, Auggie nodded.
“How about you relax a little and try going five over?”
“Five over.”
“Five over is fine.”
“I got in a crash.”
“What?”
“Last time I drove I got in a crash.”
“I remember, I was—”
“No, not that. A bad one. A really bad one. Theo, I just want to pull over. I’m going to go to that parking lot.”
The light changed, and Theo said, “No, keep driving.”
“I really don’t want to—”
“Keep driving, Auggie.”
So Auggie kept driving.
“I didn’t want to tell you,” Auggie said. His voice was on the verge of breaking. “Because, you know. Christ, I should have told you.”
“You’re doing great.”
“I didn’t kill anyone. I swear to God, Theo. I didn’t. I would never have gotten behind the wheel again if I’d killed someone.”
“Ok, let’s do this. You’re going to take a really deep breath, and then you’re going to let it out slowly while I count. How’s that?”
“I would have told you but—”
“Here we go.”
So Theo counted. And Auggie breathed. They did that for a while, with Theo interrupting to provide directions. They cruised the streets of Smithfield: strip malls of yellow brick, tattoo parlors, bars, walk-up apartment buildings, a boarded up Lutheran church, an elementary school where kids played on the playground. In some places, Victorian houses still stood, remnants of another time, their wood mildewed, their windows dark. They passed a White Castle, and the smell of sliders made Theo’s stomach rumble. They passed a mercado, and Auggie mumbled something that sounded like, “Tamales.”
“Better?” Theo asked, his fingers massaging the hollow of Auggie’s shoulder.
“Holy shit.”
“It’s just a breathing trick, Auggie, it’s not magic.”
“No, holy shit. It’s right there.”
And there it was: a Gas ’n Guzzle with the pumps ripped out, the convenience store boarded up, sitting right on the state highway’s business loop. The orange plastic sign towered over the street.
Auggie turned at the next intersection.
“It’s this building,” he said, pointing. “I know it’s this one.”
Theo peered through the windshield. “Maybe.”
“I know it is. That one is the one across the street. I’ve looked at that picture so many goddamn times. This is his building. Come on.”
The Malibu died with a rattle that did not sound good, but it was a problem for another time; Theo got out, grabbed his tools, and limped after Auggie. The walk-up’s security door was chained shut. It also had an electronic lock that had probably been connected to the intercom system; when Auggie yanked on the door, though, it opened until it caught against the chain, and Theo could see where the latch had been broken.
“Hold on,” Theo said. “Nobody’s supposed to be living here. We don’t know which unit might have been his.”
“It’s a third-floor apartment facing the street, just like the picture. And I know this is the building. Trust me.”
So Theo cut the bolts; there was nobody on the street to object. As soon as they stepped inside, Theo smelled it: putrefaction.
“You should wait here.”
Auggie shook his head.
They took the stairs to the third floor. Theo needed the cane more than he would have liked; stairs were still hell for him. The building was like so many other low-rent housing places Theo had been in his life; he’d grown up with friends who lived in places like these. In his mind, he associated them with the smell of too many bodies living together and hydrogenated fats, like frozen toaster pastries. Here, though, the smell of decay overpowered everything else. When they passed the door to 3C, a mouse scurried along the baseboard, its claws ticking against the carpet, and Auggie jolted and grabbed Theo’s arm.
3D was at the end of the hall.
“Windows facing the street,” Auggie said. “It’s got to be the right one. God, I need a mask.”
Theo nodded, checked the stolen pistol at his waistband, and knocked.
“Are you carrying—” Auggie asked.
Theo put a finger over his lips and knocked again.
“Nobody could be in there,” Auggie said. “It reeks too bad.”
Theo took out a wrecking bar and a mallet from his bag of tools. He wedged the wrecking bar between the door and the jamb, right where the latch would be.
“Is that seriously going to work?” Auggie asked.
“Not if someone set the deadbolt,” Theo said. “But it’s worth a shot.”
He gave an experimental tap, and the latch popped free of the strike plate. The door swung inwards.
“Why didn’t he set the deadbolt?” Auggie asked.
Theo took a breath, and the smell of corruption rolling out of the apartment was even stronger. He had scraped up too much roadkill in his life not to recognize that stench.
“Stay here,” he whispered.
“Like fuck.”
“Auggie—”
“No, no fucking way. This is my mess. I’m going with you.”
His fingers were biting into Theo’s arm, and Theo covered Auggie’s hand for a moment before
