in them. It clears out pretty good."
I lit a smoke, sneaking a glance at the kid in the flare of the wooden match. He was sitting soft, waiting. Like Terry, when I first rented him from a kiddie pimp. Not exactly like Terry: this boy didn't know why I came. And he did care.
I looked across at Virgil. We'd done time together and he'd passed the test. More than once. The test of time, the test of crime. In my world, no difference. "What's my end?" I asked him.
"I need to know some truth. Reba, she'd'a told you what happened over here, right?"
I nodded.
"First the cops thought it was Lloyd. Then they didn't. Now they back to where they was. It's Lloyd. In their minds. Me, I don't know about this stuff. Freak stuff. But you know them…"
Them. Humans who kill for love. Torture for fun. They set fires to watch the flames. Black–glove rapists. Snuff–film directors. Trophy–takers. Baby–fuckers. Pain turns on the switch. Blood lubricates the machinery. Then the power–rush comes. And they do too.
It's not sex. Castrate the freaks and they use broomsticks or Coke bottles.
I've been studying them all my life. Since I was a tiny little kid. They taught me. Nightmare walkers.
Virgil was right. Whoever ventilated those kids in lovers' lane…
"I know them," I said in the quiet darkness. The kid couldn't meet my eyes. Or wouldn't.
"You're here to talk to Lloyd. When you're done, you tell me the truth. You'll know. Nobody's better at it than you. I know you did it before. For that lawyer. I remember you telling me about it. Never forget it. That's what I need now."
I dragged deep on my smoke. "I'm in."
Virgil nodded. Turned to the kid. "Lloyd, this man's my brother. You heard what he said. He's gonna talk to you. You're gonna talk to him. When it's done, I'm gonna know the truth. You got it?"
"Uncle Virgil…"
"What?"
"I didn't do it."
"You didn't do it, my brother will know. Then I'll get something together for you. Whatever it takes. You a member of the family. My wife's cousin. Blood kin. You didn't do it, we're behind you. I risked my house for you. My home. Where my children live. And it looks like I may be going back to jail for a little bit too. That's okay. A man's got no more than his family."
"Will I have to go to jail?"
"Jail? Boy, you better
pray
you going to jail. Only way you're going inside is you
didn't
do what they say you did."
"Uncle Virgil," the kid's voice was a ribbon of broken glass, drooling out of his slack mouth. "I don't understand. What do you mean?"
Virgil lit a cigarette of his own. I knew what he was doing. Getting his thoughts together, making sure it came out right. "Lloyd, you didn't do this…my brother tells me you didn't do this…then we come up with a plan. Some plans don't work out. And then people go to jail. You have to go to jail, you'll go like a man, you understand? That ain't no big thing. And you'll always have your people. Inside and out. Something waiting for you. Like I had."
He took another hit on his cigarette, hazel eyes anchored on Lloyd. "But if you did it…if that was you sneaking around killing those kids…then I won't shame my wife by letting her know. I won't have kin of mine doing evil like that."
"I…"
"Lloyd, it turns out you did it, you gonna be what they call a fugitive. Only they never gonna catch you, understand?"
"You mean…I'm going to run away?"
"No. You did this thing, you not running any farther than this basement."
27
T HE BOY slumped forward, covering his face with his hands. Shoulder blades bowed like broken bird's wings, dry–crying, chest in spasm. But he didn't say a word.
I watched him for a minute. Virgil was granite. I knew he'd kill if he had to—that's how he came to prison. And I knew his word was good.
I looked up. Caught his eye. "Virgil, I'm beat. Just got in from the Coast. This interrogation, it's going to take a long time. How about if I catch some sleep, talk to Lloyd when I get up?"
He got it. "Whatever you
I lit a smoke, sneaking a glance at the kid in the flare of the wooden match. He was sitting soft, waiting. Like Terry, when I first rented him from a kiddie pimp. Not exactly like Terry: this boy didn't know why I came. And he did care.
I looked across at Virgil. We'd done time together and he'd passed the test. More than once. The test of time, the test of crime. In my world, no difference. "What's my end?" I asked him.
"I need to know some truth. Reba, she'd'a told you what happened over here, right?"
I nodded.
"First the cops thought it was Lloyd. Then they didn't. Now they back to where they was. It's Lloyd. In their minds. Me, I don't know about this stuff. Freak stuff. But you know them…"
Them. Humans who kill for love. Torture for fun. They set fires to watch the flames. Black–glove rapists. Snuff–film directors. Trophy–takers. Baby–fuckers. Pain turns on the switch. Blood lubricates the machinery. Then the power–rush comes. And they do too.
It's not sex. Castrate the freaks and they use broomsticks or Coke bottles.
I've been studying them all my life. Since I was a tiny little kid. They taught me. Nightmare walkers.
Virgil was right. Whoever ventilated those kids in lovers' lane…
"I know them," I said in the quiet darkness. The kid couldn't meet my eyes. Or wouldn't.
"You're here to talk to Lloyd. When you're done, you tell me the truth. You'll know. Nobody's better at it than you. I know you did it before. For that lawyer. I remember you telling me about it. Never forget it. That's what I need now."
I dragged deep on my smoke. "I'm in."
Virgil nodded. Turned to the kid. "Lloyd, this man's my brother. You heard what he said. He's gonna talk to you. You're gonna talk to him. When it's done, I'm gonna know the truth. You got it?"
"Uncle Virgil…"
"What?"
"I didn't do it."
"You didn't do it, my brother will know. Then I'll get something together for you. Whatever it takes. You a member of the family. My wife's cousin. Blood kin. You didn't do it, we're behind you. I risked my house for you. My home. Where my children live. And it looks like I may be going back to jail for a little bit too. That's okay. A man's got no more than his family."
"Will I have to go to jail?"
"Jail? Boy, you better
pray
you going to jail. Only way you're going inside is you
didn't
do what they say you did."
"Uncle Virgil," the kid's voice was a ribbon of broken glass, drooling out of his slack mouth. "I don't understand. What do you mean?"
Virgil lit a cigarette of his own. I knew what he was doing. Getting his thoughts together, making sure it came out right. "Lloyd, you didn't do this…my brother tells me you didn't do this…then we come up with a plan. Some plans don't work out. And then people go to jail. You have to go to jail, you'll go like a man, you understand? That ain't no big thing. And you'll always have your people. Inside and out. Something waiting for you. Like I had."
He took another hit on his cigarette, hazel eyes anchored on Lloyd. "But if you did it…if that was you sneaking around killing those kids…then I won't shame my wife by letting her know. I won't have kin of mine doing evil like that."
"I…"
"Lloyd, it turns out you did it, you gonna be what they call a fugitive. Only they never gonna catch you, understand?"
"You mean…I'm going to run away?"
"No. You did this thing, you not running any farther than this basement."
27
T HE BOY slumped forward, covering his face with his hands. Shoulder blades bowed like broken bird's wings, dry–crying, chest in spasm. But he didn't say a word.
I watched him for a minute. Virgil was granite. I knew he'd kill if he had to—that's how he came to prison. And I knew his word was good.
I looked up. Caught his eye. "Virgil, I'm beat. Just got in from the Coast. This interrogation, it's going to take a long time. How about if I catch some sleep, talk to Lloyd when I get up?"
He got it. "Whatever you
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