Becker looked at himself as if assessing his costume.

“Yeah.”

She saw his jaw was set; he would be volunteering nothing.

“I don’t want to interrogate you, John.”

“Fine.”

“But I don’t understand.”

“You wouldn’t if I explained, either,” he said.

“You were working?”

“Uh-huh.”

She found it hard to look him in the face. He looked like a boy accused of lying by his parents for the first time, pained by the accusation, outraged by the injustice, stunned that his record of honesty was not sufficient to carry the issue, resigned that he would not be believed, and saddened by the loss of innocence. What was lacking was the recognition that he had come within a breath of having been shot. He was, she concluded, the strangest man she had ever loved; maybe the strangest she had ever known, but also the most interesting.

“I’d like to go back to bed,” she said.

They both lay awake the rest of the night, side by side but not touching, each pretending to be asleep.

As dawn approached Karen asked softly, “What did you learn?”

Becker answered as readily as if they had been talking for hours.

“He loves them,” he said. “Lamont loves those boys.”

Chapter 16

They drove in a different direction again. It was their fifth trip away from the motel and Dee had chosen a different route each time, leaving Bobby confused and without a mental map of where they were or where they were going. In time, of course, usually within a half hour or forty-five minutes, they would come to an area whose dimensions were familiar even if the particulars were not. They were still in America, after all, and the fast-food chains and the franchised shops were the same everywhere.

Ash coaxed Bobby into taking one more bite. The boy had had no appetite for days and Ash ministered to him like a nurse, trying to keep his delinquency from Dee’s attention.

“You have to eat some,” Ash said.

“I did,” Bobby said.

“That wasn’t even a bite. Eat this much, just this much.” Ash tore off a small portion of the burger, removed the bun and lettuce, scraped off the condiments with his finger. He held the piece of meat before Bobby’s mouth like a mother bird with a nestling.

Bobby shook his head, his lips closed. Ash glanced anxiously through the car window. Dee had found a single mother inside the hamburger restaurant and had struck up a conversation by admiring the woman’s two children. Now she was pointing outside, toward Bobby, her face gleaming with pride. The other mother looked out politely.

“Wave,” Ash said, lifting Bobby’s arm. “Smile.”

The boy managed an ugly grimace, trying to smile while battling the onset of tears. Bobby wept all the time now, often with no provocation, and it was all Ash could do to keep him from doing it in Dee’s presence. Ash waggled the boy’s arm at the elbow and his hand flapped loosely. There was nothing he could do about the smile, but from the distance Dee seemed not to notice. She sat in the booth with the other woman, her head tossed back in laughter. She reached across the table and tousled the hair of the children while the mother regarded her uncertainly.

“You know how she’ll be if you don’t eat,” Ash said, putting the morsel to Bobby’s lips once more.

The boy opened his mouth and chewed weakly. At least he still cares. Ash thought. At least he can still be frightened. When he stopped caring at all, it would all be over. Ash would help him then. He had tried to help the boy all along, but he was never able to do enough. Only at the end could he really help.

Ash put the rest of the burger in his own mouth and ate it so that Dee would not know how little Bobby had consumed. He slurped at the milk in Bobby’s cup, draining most of it, then carefully wiped the boy’s face clean. Dee did not tolerate messiness. Not with Tommy. She would abide it with Ash, but Tommy reflected on her personally.

“Be sure to tell her how much fun you’re having,” Ash said.

Inside the restaurant. Dee had stood up. She looked again toward the car, then bent and hugged both of the children, who submitted reluctantly. With a smile and a gesture of the hand she left the mother and the children. Ash could see the mother looking at her children, then following Dee out of the restaurant with her eyes. She said something to the children and they responded animatedly.

Dee strode across the parking lot joyfully, rising up on the balls of her feet with every step as if on springs. Her eyes were alight and her smile split her face from ear to ear. She started talking as soon as she made eye contact with Ash, while she was still in the lot, before he could hear her through the closed windows.

Ash nudged Bobby, making him turn to face her.

“Be happy,” Ash said.

Dee swept into the car like a wind, smelling of mint and excitement. “She liked you, so did her kids, she said you were so cute.” She kissed Bobby on the cheek and Ash noted with relief that the boy did not pull away or resist her at all.

“Did you eat your supper?”

“He ate it all. Dee,” Ash said.

“What a good boy!”

“I’m having a wonderful time,” Bobby said.

“Are you, darling? Is my sweet boy having a good time?”

“I like coming here with you.”

“Oh, and I like coming here with you.” She embraced him, squeezing him against her so hard Ash heard him grunt.

“I tell you what. I think you deserve a treat. Would you like that? Would you like a treat?”

“Yes, please.”

“Then here we go, one treat coming up for my angel boy.” She hugged him again. Her face was turned toward Ash, but her eyes did not focus on him. She had not looked at Ash since she entered the car.

“Who do you love?” she asked.

“I love you, Dee.”

She started the car and pulled out of the parking lot. “And I love you. Tommy,” she said. “I love you so much.”

She put her hand on Bobby’s knee and left it there as she drove. Ash watched the boy carefully. He was not smiling, he was not weeping. He seemed to be somewhere else entirely.

The clerk’s name was Carelle and she worked evenings and hated it because she wanted to be home with her own children instead of selling clothes to other people’s. Her two sons were at home now with Carelle’s mother, who fed them and talked to them and put them to bed the way her mother had done with Carelle. Being raised by a grandmother did not seem unusual to Carelle, but nonetheless she resented it for her sons because it deprived her of the pleasure of seeing those two fine boys as much as she wanted to. Still, working evenings allowed her to be home to get them off to school at an hour when her mother had already left for her day job, and her mother was home in time so they weren’t alone more than an hour after school. The family needed the two salaries to get by, but not leaving the boys alone was the main thing. She didn’t want them just sitting there staring at the television the way so many did, or, far worse, she didn’t want them out on the street where you could learn so many ways to shorten your life.

She didn’t see her own boys as much as she wanted, but she certainly knew what a healthy boy looked like, and this boy wasn’t it. He stood about fifteen feet away by the rack of short-sleeve shirts that were marked down

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