Read Online The Rag and Bone Shop by Robert Cormier - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Robert Cormier
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unoccupied. The derelict was busy looking through the debris on top of the Dumpster.
“What made you leave?” Trent asked, genuinely curious.
“I want to go home. I don’t have anything to tell you.”
“Let me be the judge of that. But you can’t leave like this. It makes you look suspicious.”
Startled, the boy could only repeat the word. “Suspicious?”
“Look, no one has seen you leave. Let’s go back inside. You may have more information than you think you have.”
A cruiser swerved into the lot and pulled up in front of them, the sunlight flashing on the windshield. They stepped aside to let it pass.
“Okay,” said the boy, sighing, doubt still in his eyes. He seemed frail, vulnerable. “Okay,” he said again.
And allowed Trent to lead him back inside police headquarters.
" L et’s forget that you tried to escape, all right?”
Trent knew it was important to enter that vital word into the record and he leaned back with satisfaction, waiting for the boy’s answer.
“All right,” Jason said, glad to change the subject and move on with the questioning and get it over with. Yet he was dimly bothered by that word
escape
. Like he’d had a reason to run away besides just wanting to get out of there. Like he was guilty of something.
“Before we go back to what you witnessed on Monday, let me ask you some questions about Alicia. You were friends, weren’t you?”
Jason nodded, relieved to be off on another subject, even if it was a sad subject.
“Let’s see. You’re twelve and she was seven, and yet you were friends. Did that seem unusual to you?”
“She was a nice little kid. And she was always happy to see me.” Which was more than he could say about Brad and some other kids in the neighborhood, he thought, but didn’t bother Mr. Trent with that information.
“You liked visiting her?”
“Sure.” He wouldn’t have visited her if he hadn’t liked her.
“You said earlier that you helped her with the jigsaw puzzle. What was the subject of the puzzle?”
“A cardinal. The bird. Big. It practically covered the whole card table she’d set up on the patio. A thousand pieces. She was very good at spotting pieces. And it was a hard puzzle because all the red colors looked alike, just shaded a little. I could hardly tell them apart but she didn’t make . . .” And he stopped.
“Didn’t make what?”
Jason realized how quickly Mr. Trent picked up on anything he didn’t want to talk about.
Mr. Trent waited patiently.
What was the harm in telling him? “Make fun of me,” he said. Knowing how pathetic he sounded.
“Like the other kids, you mean?”
Jason nodded. Each admission he made depressed him. He had a feeling that he was telling this man too much about himself.
“Did Alicia make fun of you sometimes, though? You know, good friends sometimes poke fun at each other. Did Alicia?”
Jason smiled at a sudden memory. Alicia mocking him when he finally did manage to place a piece in the puzzle, imitating the careful way he would fit the piece into the slot, humming as he did so, a habit he had developed whenever he accomplished something. She imitated him perfectly.
“Yes,” Jason said, his voice gentle with reminiscence and sadness, too, acknowledging again that she was dead.
“Did this upset you?”
“No.” But the image of Alicia dead and the way she must have looked hidden under the brush and branches when they found her caused him to shudder a bit.
“You seem upset at the memory of Alicia poking fun at you,” Trent said.
“No . . . I mean, it’s not that,” Jason said, discombobulated now, confused by the sad memory and Mr. Trent’s sudden question. “I was thinking of her just now. How it must have been, you know, how she must have looked when they found her in the woods.”
“How did she look?”
“Terrible, all covered over like that.”
“Covered over with what?”
“Branches and bushes and stuff.”
“Does that upset
“What made you leave?” Trent asked, genuinely curious.
“I want to go home. I don’t have anything to tell you.”
“Let me be the judge of that. But you can’t leave like this. It makes you look suspicious.”
Startled, the boy could only repeat the word. “Suspicious?”
“Look, no one has seen you leave. Let’s go back inside. You may have more information than you think you have.”
A cruiser swerved into the lot and pulled up in front of them, the sunlight flashing on the windshield. They stepped aside to let it pass.
“Okay,” said the boy, sighing, doubt still in his eyes. He seemed frail, vulnerable. “Okay,” he said again.
And allowed Trent to lead him back inside police headquarters.
" L et’s forget that you tried to escape, all right?”
Trent knew it was important to enter that vital word into the record and he leaned back with satisfaction, waiting for the boy’s answer.
“All right,” Jason said, glad to change the subject and move on with the questioning and get it over with. Yet he was dimly bothered by that word
escape
. Like he’d had a reason to run away besides just wanting to get out of there. Like he was guilty of something.
“Before we go back to what you witnessed on Monday, let me ask you some questions about Alicia. You were friends, weren’t you?”
Jason nodded, relieved to be off on another subject, even if it was a sad subject.
“Let’s see. You’re twelve and she was seven, and yet you were friends. Did that seem unusual to you?”
“She was a nice little kid. And she was always happy to see me.” Which was more than he could say about Brad and some other kids in the neighborhood, he thought, but didn’t bother Mr. Trent with that information.
“You liked visiting her?”
“Sure.” He wouldn’t have visited her if he hadn’t liked her.
“You said earlier that you helped her with the jigsaw puzzle. What was the subject of the puzzle?”
“A cardinal. The bird. Big. It practically covered the whole card table she’d set up on the patio. A thousand pieces. She was very good at spotting pieces. And it was a hard puzzle because all the red colors looked alike, just shaded a little. I could hardly tell them apart but she didn’t make . . .” And he stopped.
“Didn’t make what?”
Jason realized how quickly Mr. Trent picked up on anything he didn’t want to talk about.
Mr. Trent waited patiently.
What was the harm in telling him? “Make fun of me,” he said. Knowing how pathetic he sounded.
“Like the other kids, you mean?”
Jason nodded. Each admission he made depressed him. He had a feeling that he was telling this man too much about himself.
“Did Alicia make fun of you sometimes, though? You know, good friends sometimes poke fun at each other. Did Alicia?”
Jason smiled at a sudden memory. Alicia mocking him when he finally did manage to place a piece in the puzzle, imitating the careful way he would fit the piece into the slot, humming as he did so, a habit he had developed whenever he accomplished something. She imitated him perfectly.
“Yes,” Jason said, his voice gentle with reminiscence and sadness, too, acknowledging again that she was dead.
“Did this upset you?”
“No.” But the image of Alicia dead and the way she must have looked hidden under the brush and branches when they found her caused him to shudder a bit.
“You seem upset at the memory of Alicia poking fun at you,” Trent said.
“No . . . I mean, it’s not that,” Jason said, discombobulated now, confused by the sad memory and Mr. Trent’s sudden question. “I was thinking of her just now. How it must have been, you know, how she must have looked when they found her in the woods.”
“How did she look?”
“Terrible, all covered over like that.”
“Covered over with what?”
“Branches and bushes and stuff.”
“Does that upset
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