Read Online Blood Trail by Nancy Springer - Free Book Online Page A

window, slash your mom’s tires—”
    â€œYeah, and they might try it.”
    â€œSo what do you want me to do about it, son?”
    â€œYou’re the security expert.” Like I said before, my father works security at the county courthouse. It must have been because he knew somebody, since he was never any kind of cop. When criminal court is in session, he mans the metal detector at the front door and he gets to help guard prisoners. Between that and hanging out at the Tipple, he knows everything. Even though I hadn’t heard a word from him, I could count on it that he knew what I meant about people throwing rocks.
    I told him, “They egged the place yesterday.”
    â€œSo? Just the usual stupidity, like I said. Did it wash off?”
    â€œMom said don’t bother, just leave it that way for a while. Like we don’t care.”
    â€œYour mother is a wise woman,” Dad said.
    â€œWhatever,” I said. Dad always said Mom was a wise woman, but that hadn’t kept him from walking out on her. I told him, “I need a gun for self-defense.”
    He sighed.
    â€œDad?”
    â€œIs your mother asleep?”
    â€œI guess so.” She wasn’t asking me what the heck I was doing on the phone at three A.M.
    â€œOkay. Don’t wake her. I’m coming over.”
    The guys with the cranked-up sound system went past twice more before Dad got there. I kept the lights off and got a look at them out the window. Some kind of dark-colored pickup truck, with Baja lights and a roll bar. Each time they roared past, they yelled and threw something.
    Finally Dad tapped at the door. He never came inside the house, so I went outside to talk with him. “Watch where you step,” he said, shining a big security-dude flashlight on a paper bag that had splatted open against the doorstep. “Looks like nice fresh cow manure.”
    It smelled like nice fresh cow manure, too. I just stood there shivering. Except for streetlights and his flashlight and some people’s landscape lights and stuff, it was dark out there. I didn’t like it.
    â€œYou scared?” Dad asked.
    â€œYes!” I had got to a point where I didn’t even mind being a coward.
    â€œThat’s dumb. You don’t have to be scared of those jerks.”
    â€œLike hell,” I said.
    â€œSon, this is all going to blow over. And these cretins aren’t going to do jack except yell and throw crap.”
    Mostly for the sake of argument I said, “Yeah, but what about the murderer?”
    â€œWhat about him?”
    â€œHe’s still out there!” And all of a sudden I realized it could be true. There really could be a murderer hiding in the black pines and hemlocks that grew like a beard all over the mountains. Or maybe closer. Maybe behind a boulder in the river bottom. Maybe watching from the poplars at the edge of my yard. Damn dark shaggy trees everywhere, damn rocks and caves, damn abandoned mines and foggy hills, he could be anywhere.
    Dad looked at me kind of odd.
    â€œThe psycho who killed Aaron!” I said, getting louder. “Or intruder, whatever, maybe he’s a serial killer, maybe he likes to carve up high school jocks.”
    Dad started to laugh.
    â€œStop it!” I hated him. “I need a gun, Dad!”
    â€œGet a clue, son!”
    That hurt. I yelled, “What the hell are you talking about?”
    â€œShush! You’ll wake your mother.” He kind of gulped, then mostly stopped laughing. “You know who killed Aaron as well as the cops do.”
    â€œI don’t know anything!”
    â€œC’mere.” He took me by the elbow and headed me toward his old Hyundai. Once I sat in the passenger seat and locked the door I felt calmer. Also, Dad was being serious now, which helped.
    He settled himself behind the wheel but he didn’t start the car. He said, “I shouldn’t have laughed. All you know is what’s