Page 53 of Whistle
Gavin grew so mesmerized with the train’s passage that he failed to notice when his foot bumped into the cardboard box with the last of the bones in it. A bit of Angus Tanner in there, as well as the still-missing Walter Hillman, one dumb goat, and any number of pets that were the subject of “Have You Seen...” leaflets staple-gunned to lampposts around Lucknow.
The steam engine had belched out so much faux-smoke that Gavin was waving his hand in front of his face, trying to keep it out of his eyes and nose. A layer of white mist was filling the room, making it look more like the venue for half a dozen nicotine-addicted poker players.
Gavin began to cough. The smoke was clouding Edwin’s vision and working its way up his nose, too, although it didn’t bother him in the slightest.
Chuffchuffchuffchuffchuff
As Gavin bowed his head, tucking his face into his elbow as he coughed again, he noticed for the first time the container of bones.
“Jesus, Mr. Choo, what the hell’s this? If I didn’t know better, I’d say those look like...” But Gavin, suddenly unable to breathe, could not finish his sentence.
Edwin did not bother to explain. Gavin was already dropping to the floor.
Seventeen
Harry was wrung out by the time he got home.
He trudged through the door, took his weapon from his belt, and put it on the top shelf of the front hall closet, as was his routine. He walked slowly into the kitchen and grabbed a beer from the fridge, then went out onto the back patio, dropped into a chair, and twisted the cap off the bottle.
He killed off the first beer pretty quickly, went in for a second, and came back out. He’d been sitting there for a good ten minutes, struggling to unwind, hoping to clear his head, when he heard someone moving around in the kitchen. Seconds later, the door opened and Janice came out with a beer of her own, clinked bottles with Harry, took the chair next to his, and, without saying a word, had a drink.
Janice let another few minutes go by before she asked a question she already knew the answer to. “Bad day?”
Harry said, “Where’s Dylan?”
“I think he’s upstairs.”
“Got something I have to tell him.”
Janice sat up straight and set the beer on the broad arm of the chair. “What’s going on?”
“I’d like him to hear it from me before he hears it from his friends, although it might already be too late. You know his friend Auden?”
“Is Auden in some kind of trouble?”
Harry quickly shook his head. “His dad.” He told her.
“Oh my God,” Janice said. “You stay. I’ll find him.” She slipped back into the house, and two minutes later Dylan was walking out onto the patio. “What’s going on, Dad?”
“Have a seat.”
“Did I do something wrong?”
“What? No. Why would you think you’re in trouble?”
The boy went quiet. He needed a moment to work up the nerve. “I lost my skateboard.”
“When’d that happen?”
Dylan shrugged. “Couple days ago. Went into Wilson’s to buy some Ho Hos and left it leaning up against the front of the store, and when I came back out it was gone. So, like, I didn’t lose it, exactly. Somebody swiped it.”
Harry sighed. “That’s a real shame, pal.”
“I’d left it there lots of times before and nobody ever took it. So I’m sorry, and I’ll save up money to buy another one.”
Harry pulled him closer. “It’s okay.”
“I’m not in trouble?”
