Silent Witness by Richard North Patterson

brother wants to do but knows he really shouldn’t.’
    â€˜Like what?’
    â€˜Like at church that time. To me, it sounded scary.’
    Tony gave a short laugh. ‘It was. But I didn’t want to be Sam. I was just glad to let Sam have the hangover for me and get out of there alive.’
    If Tony had seen it coming, he would not have been there in the first place. Mass had never looked so good.
    It began at Sam’s house, around one o’clock in the morning. Tony was sleeping over; they sat on the floor of Sam’s room with the lights dimmed and the radio on, passing a bottle of whiskey back and forth. Sam had warmed up with a couple of beers; the effect was one of great self-confidence. But beneath this Tony sensed a certain volatility: the family hardware store had failed at last, and Sam sometimes seemed resentful of the town itself for the Robbs’ declining station. And there was something Tony could not ask about – the stories about Coach Jackson and Sam’s mother. ‘Good whiskey,’ Sam said, and took another sip.
    â€˜Rhapsody in the Rain’ came on the radio in Lou Christie’s near falsetto; as far as Tony could make out, it was about getting laid in the car to the rhythm of windshield wipers. Sam listened to the lyrics with a sardonic grin.
    â€˜So,’ he asked, ‘things any better with the Ice Queen?’
    Tony gave him a look: the nickname annoyed him; the question depressed him. Coolly, he said, ‘The same.’
    Sam rolled his eyes. ‘You’re gonna get hair on your palms, man. Maybe go blind. I can see you now, selling pencils outside the high school, ’cause Alison Taylor won’t come across. You need my advice.’
    â€˜Jesus, Sam, is that all you ever think about – sex? Because Alison and me are about a whole bunch of stuff. Or don’t you and Sue ever talk when you’re alone?’
    Sam assumed an expression of weary patience. ‘Help this man, O Lord,’ he intoned. ‘He is wandering in the darkness with a serious erection, and no salvation for it but his own.’
    In spite of himself, Tony laughed aloud.
    Sam took a deep swallow of whiskey. ‘Speaking of our Lord, I’ve got a sermon to write. I think I’m gonna need you here.’
    â€˜Sermon? For who? Horny Guys Anonymous?’
    â€˜I never told you? Christ.’ Sam took another swig. ‘Remember that Methodist youth group the old lady stuck me in ’cause I wouldn’t go to church with her anymore? They elected me their president.’
    Tony looked at him in amazement. ‘I guess God must have spoken to them,’ he said at last. ‘I can’t think of any other reason.’
    â€˜Yeah, well, that’s not the good part. The good part is our minister got this swell idea for an ecumenical youth service – skipping you mackerel snappers, of course. He drafted me to give the sermon. For my new flock and their parents, Sue’s folks included.’
    Tony covered his eyes. ‘Has this guy ever actually met you?’
    â€˜You know me – I can fool anyone for a while. But you want to know the best part?’
    â€˜I was kind of hoping I’d already heard it.’
    Sam grinned. ‘Sermon’s tomorrow.’
    Tony stared at him. ‘Shit,’ he said.
    â€˜Won’t do. Has to be longer.’
    All at once, Tony realized he was a little drunk. ‘What are you going to say?’
    â€˜No clue.’ Sam was more than a little drunk, Tony realized; he gave off that weird sense of imperviousness Tony had seen before, just before Sam’s judgment deserted him.
    For Tony, the fun had gone out of this. ‘Maybe you’d better stop drinking.’
    Sam’s eyes glinted with defiance. ‘Can’t do that – I’d lose my edge.’
    Tony studied him, then looked at his watch. ‘When is this supposed to happen?’
    â€˜Six o’clock.