truck, drove to Billy’s, and dropped them off. Randall would kill me if he knew I was picking up strangers with Josh in the truck, but I was pretty sure Josh wouldn’t tell him.
The musician turned back at the door. “Bless you, sir,” he said again. “Bless you both.”
From the passenger seat, Josh waved goodbye, looking happier than he had in months. It had probably been awhile since he’d felt like he’d done something good, or at least caused something good to happen. He needed more of that. As we pulled away, I looked at him and said, “Can you get me into one of those vampire games? The kind Razor and his buddies played?”
“Razor didn’t play. Razor just was .”
“All right. Whatever. But the others. They told the police they were playing the day—” I stopped.
“The day Razor died. I know. But Mom and Dad don’t let me play anymore. Maybe if you told them I was helping you out with an investigation—”
“Never mind. It was a bad idea.”
“But if you saw what it was really like. I mean, if you told them it was no big deal—”
“Josh . . .”
He gave me a big-eyed, pleading look. When he was five, I’d bought him a big-kid bike because of it. “Please?” he said. “If you’d just check it out, I know you’d see it isn’t like you think it is. It’s not all weird and gruesome.”
“You guys drink blood. How much more weird and gruesome could you be?”
His fist clenched against the side of his thigh. “That’s not part of the game. Most of the people who play don’t even do that. Razor was just a little . . .” He stopped.
“Extreme? Perverse? Sociopathic?”
“Eccentric.”
I snorted, and he turned his face away, back toward the window.
“Anyway,” he said, “why are you doing this if you hated him so much? Whoever killed him did the world a favor, right?”
“I’m doing this because you asked me to.”
“But you think he deserved it?”
“That’s not for me to say.”
In the long, uncomfortable silence that followed, we swung onto Briley Parkway and cruised past the gold glass International Plaza building. It glistened like a Christmas ornament in the icy mist. Then Josh said, “Please, Uncle Jared? I’ve done everything they’ve asked me to. Ever since you brought me home last summer. I make curfew every night. I’m seeing a counselor. She’s lame, and she doesn’t understand about the game, but even she says Mom and Dad should check it out. They won’t, I know that. But they’d believe you if you told them it was okay.”
“And if I don’t think it’s okay?”
“You will. But I wouldn’t ask you to lie. I know you wouldn’t, anyway.”
I thought about it. What could it hurt? Josh could be my passport to the vampire culture, and if there seemed to be anything harmful about it, I could make sure he never went back.
Never being a relative term. Once he turned eighteen, all bets were off, all influence null and void.
“I’ll think about it,” I said.
He turned back toward the window, but not in time to hide his smile.
I hadn’t even stopped the truck before Randall opened his front door and stepped out onto the porch. He watched us through squinted eyes, pulled a pack of Marlboros out of his pocket, and tapped one out into his palm. I hated that he was smoking again, but ragging him about it would only make him defensive.
“Shit,” muttered Josh, then cut his gaze toward me. “Sorry.”
“I’ve heard the word before.”
“He’s gonna kill me.” He slid out of the passenger seat and slunk toward the house, head low. I turned off the ignition and followed.
When we were almost to the porch, Randall jerked his head toward the house. “Your mom was worried,” he said to Josh.
Josh bobbed his head even lower. “I’m sorry.”
“Tell it to your mother.”
As Josh ducked around his father and into the house, Randall turned to me and said, “You took him to the funeral.”
“No. I brought him back from it.”
“I
The musician turned back at the door. “Bless you, sir,” he said again. “Bless you both.”
From the passenger seat, Josh waved goodbye, looking happier than he had in months. It had probably been awhile since he’d felt like he’d done something good, or at least caused something good to happen. He needed more of that. As we pulled away, I looked at him and said, “Can you get me into one of those vampire games? The kind Razor and his buddies played?”
“Razor didn’t play. Razor just was .”
“All right. Whatever. But the others. They told the police they were playing the day—” I stopped.
“The day Razor died. I know. But Mom and Dad don’t let me play anymore. Maybe if you told them I was helping you out with an investigation—”
“Never mind. It was a bad idea.”
“But if you saw what it was really like. I mean, if you told them it was no big deal—”
“Josh . . .”
He gave me a big-eyed, pleading look. When he was five, I’d bought him a big-kid bike because of it. “Please?” he said. “If you’d just check it out, I know you’d see it isn’t like you think it is. It’s not all weird and gruesome.”
“You guys drink blood. How much more weird and gruesome could you be?”
His fist clenched against the side of his thigh. “That’s not part of the game. Most of the people who play don’t even do that. Razor was just a little . . .” He stopped.
“Extreme? Perverse? Sociopathic?”
“Eccentric.”
I snorted, and he turned his face away, back toward the window.
“Anyway,” he said, “why are you doing this if you hated him so much? Whoever killed him did the world a favor, right?”
“I’m doing this because you asked me to.”
“But you think he deserved it?”
“That’s not for me to say.”
In the long, uncomfortable silence that followed, we swung onto Briley Parkway and cruised past the gold glass International Plaza building. It glistened like a Christmas ornament in the icy mist. Then Josh said, “Please, Uncle Jared? I’ve done everything they’ve asked me to. Ever since you brought me home last summer. I make curfew every night. I’m seeing a counselor. She’s lame, and she doesn’t understand about the game, but even she says Mom and Dad should check it out. They won’t, I know that. But they’d believe you if you told them it was okay.”
“And if I don’t think it’s okay?”
“You will. But I wouldn’t ask you to lie. I know you wouldn’t, anyway.”
I thought about it. What could it hurt? Josh could be my passport to the vampire culture, and if there seemed to be anything harmful about it, I could make sure he never went back.
Never being a relative term. Once he turned eighteen, all bets were off, all influence null and void.
“I’ll think about it,” I said.
He turned back toward the window, but not in time to hide his smile.
I hadn’t even stopped the truck before Randall opened his front door and stepped out onto the porch. He watched us through squinted eyes, pulled a pack of Marlboros out of his pocket, and tapped one out into his palm. I hated that he was smoking again, but ragging him about it would only make him defensive.
“Shit,” muttered Josh, then cut his gaze toward me. “Sorry.”
“I’ve heard the word before.”
“He’s gonna kill me.” He slid out of the passenger seat and slunk toward the house, head low. I turned off the ignition and followed.
When we were almost to the porch, Randall jerked his head toward the house. “Your mom was worried,” he said to Josh.
Josh bobbed his head even lower. “I’m sorry.”
“Tell it to your mother.”
As Josh ducked around his father and into the house, Randall turned to me and said, “You took him to the funeral.”
“No. I brought him back from it.”
“I
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