Read Online Bayview Heights Trilogy by Kathryn Shay - Free Book Online

interview room and headed for the
next. Inside it, he found Battaglia standing erect, studying the
Wanted posters on the wall.
    “You could be one of those guys some day,
Battaglia.”
    The boy spun around. In stark contrast to
DeFazio, Battaglia’s eyes were clear, though they were burning with
anger. His coordination when Mitch surprised him had been
normal.
    Slamming the door, Mitch said, “Well, did you
just have a smaller dose than DeFazio or are you too smart to mess
with the newest drug of choice?”
    “Don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Insolently, the boy slipped his hands into his jeans pockets and
leaned against the wall.
    Mitch felt his insides knot at the
intentionally smug posture. “Do you know your English teacher is
here?” he said unkindly.
    Johnny straightened. “Cassie?” Then his face
flushed and his hands came out of his pockets and curled into angry
fists at his sides. “You son of a bitch. Why’d you call her?”
    “I didn’t. She was with me when I was
notified about the fight.”
    Shock widened Johnny’s eyes. He glanced at
the clock behind Mitch. “Why was she with you at seven o’clock at
night?”
    Mitch attacked, sensing the advantage he’d
gotten with that bit of news. “Why do you put her through
this?”
    Johnny’s eyes changed. A look of profound
remorse muddied the clear, almost black of his irises. The boy said
nothing, just stared at Mitch. The forced-air central heating
started up, and a muted phone rang somewhere in an outer
office.
    “Sit down, Battaglia,” Mitch said, breaking
the charged silence.
    The boy’s posture became even stiffer.
    “I said, sit down.”
    Johnny kicked out a straight chair, circled
it around, then straddled it.
    “Your friends were there.”
    Again, the sullen quiet.
    “We were told your buddies from the city paid
Pepper’s a visit.”
    “So what?” Johnny finally said.
    “Your pals give the inhalants to
DeFazio?”
    With faked nonchalance, Johnny examined his
fingernails. “What’re inhalants?”
    Switching tactics, Mitch said, “I understand
you want to be a doctor.”
    Johnny’s head snapped up. “Who told you
that?”
    Again ignoring his question, Mitch went on,
“You know physically what can happen when you use these
things?”
    Pride reared its ugly head in the boy. “I’m
not stupid. That shit fries your brains.”
    “Then how come you let your pals give it to
DeFazio?”
    Silence again, but a flicker of unease
crossed the kid’s face and his shoulders sagged in guilt.
    “Let me tell you something, Battaglia. I’m
not going to let your gang buddies recruit anyone from Bayview
Heights. It might be too late for you, but you’re it, kid. If I see
any evidence of gang activity—colors, paraphernalia, hand
signals—at the high school, take you down so fast, you won’t have
time to blink.” Mitch sighed and ran a frustrated hand through his
hair. “Now, get out of here.” Then he surprised himself by adding,
“And try to reassure Ms. Smith you were clean tonight.”
    Opening the door, Mitch preceded Johnny out
and stalked to his office, carefully avoiding the waiting area,
where he knew that soft gray eyes would stare at him accusingly and
slender shoulders were about to take on more of the world’s
problems.
    o0o
    JOHNNY WATCHED THE WIPERS make a slow descent
to the bottom of the windshield as Cassie shut off the engine and
turned toward him. Then he focused on the bumper sticker she’d
stuck on the dash. Be Someone Special. Be a Teacher. He was trying
to avoid her eyes. He knew what he’d see there—the same
disappointment and hurt he’d glimpsed as she whisked him out of the
police station and into her car without a word and driven to his
seedy apartment complex.
    “Want to tell me what happened?”
    Tugging the nylon collar of his jacket up
around his neck, Johnny stared ahead. When he didn’t answer, she
waited. “I was playing pool with DeFazio at Pepper’s,” he finally
said. “Zorro