Eddie’s flush made his nose look purple and stained his cheeks a dark, wine-colored red.The sweat on his forehead darkened his thinning hair.He flexed the fingers on one hand, and it was a strangely fluid movement, like he’d played piano as a child.
“He’s been chasing Tip for a year,” I said quietly.“You’ve seen it.Everybody must have.So, let me ask you something: you ever see him lose his temper when you told him no?”
“He’s lying!”Rory screeched.
Eddie stood there, staring at us.Something dark opened behind his eyes, a black hole collapsing in on itself.In a cold, clear voice, he said, “What did you do, you stupid little faggot?”
Rory managed to get out a pinched noise of denial, but before he could do more, Eddie took a step toward him.
I moved without thinking, putting myself in his path, hands held up to ward him off.It was the same pose Rory had taken with me, a few minutes ago.And it would be just about as effective.
“Everybody needs to calm down,” I said.“We’ll get the deputies over here, and they can sort this out.”
“He’s going to kill me,” Rory said.He sounded hysterical.“Why did you have to tell him?”
“Nobody’s going to do anything—” I began.
But Rory’s bare feet slapped the linoleum as he darted into his bedroom, and he slammed the door shut behind him.And then it was just me and Eddie.
So much for my escape route.
“Walk away from this,” I said to Eddie.“Right now.”
He stood there, staring back at me like he hadn’t heard me.But he had.I could see it in his face, the agony as he tried to decide what to do about me.And about his secret.
“He killed your son.That ought to mean something.”
Maybe I shouldn’t have said anything.Maybe I made the decision for him.Or maybe not—maybe it was always going to be this way.You never know, not really.But his face changed, settled, resolved.And he started walking toward me.
I backed up—not like Rory, so I’d end up cornered, but because I needed room to move.I pulled out one ofthe chairs from the little dinette set and kicked it into Eddie’s path.He stepped around it.I did it again, with another chair, and this one hit him in the legs.It probably didn’t hurt much, but it cost him his balance for a moment.I took advantage and threw my weight into the shitty little dinette table.It practically flew off the floor, tipping over under the force of the impact and then crashing down on Eddie.
I sprinted around the sofa and toward the front door.
A hand caught my shirt and yanked me back.Another hand caught my hair, and I shouted.Eddie had somehow reached across the sofa and grabbed me, and hedragged me back toward him.The pain in my scalp made me move with him, but I threw an elbow backward.It caught him in the arm, and Eddie didn’t react.I snapped my head back, hoping to catch him in the face, but I got only air.He tightened his grip on my hair, and this time I screamed.When he pulled me back again, the back of my knees hit the sofa, and I fell.
I landed on the cushions, and Eddie lost his grip.I rolled off the sofa and onto the filthy floor.Behind me, springs creaked and protested, and Eddie grunted with exertion, the sound moving closer to me as he hopped over thesofa.I was scrambling to my feet when the punch connected with the back of my neck.The impact drove me to the floor again, and my vision went dark and wavy.One of those big trooper boots stomped down between my shoulder blades.I landed on my chest.Something was wrong with my lungs, and I couldn’t get any air, and my ears were full of a high-pitched whining.
Croaking, I flopped onto my back.My eyes were still doing something funny, and at first, I thought my brain was making things up—it didn’t make any sense.Why would Rory be standing right behind Eddie?The boy’s face was white, his eyes like little tar patches, and I had the drifting, balloon-like thought that this was how Rory would look when he was dead.Eddie didn’t even seem to know he was there; he was focused on me as he bent over and pawed at me until he came up with the two photos.
I don’t think he knew Rory was there until Rory moved.The boy darted forward.I tried to shout, but I still didn’t have any air in my lungs, and my body wasn’t responding the way it should have.All I could do was stare as Rory grabbed Eddie’s service weapon.The pistol slid smoothly from its holster.On Eddie’s face, the first sign appeared that he realized something had gone wrong.He started to turn, and Rory took two stumbling steps backward, putting himself beyond Eddie’s reach.The gun trembled in his hand.People who didn’t work with guns were always surprised by how much they weighed.
“What the fuck do you think you’re doing—” Eddie shouted.
But Rory didn’t look at him.His gaze was fixed on me.The gun bobbed and sank and floated up again.I made a noise that wasn’t a word, but I thought I was trying to say something to him—I just didn’t know what.Sorry, maybe.Because there was so much naked hatred in the boy’s face.
And then he shot me.
29
I passed out.Or maybe not.There was shock, and then nothing, and then, what felt like a long time later, the white-hot agony that flared every time I tried to breathe.
Voices drifted in the dark.
“—out of your fucking mind!”
“Don’t talk to me like that!You can’t talk to me like that, or I’ll shoot you too!”
When Eddie spoke again, his voice held a grating, forced gentleness, the type you sometimes heard asshole parents use with their asshole children in public.“Calm down, all right?”Nobody said anything, but after a few seconds, Eddie said, “Let me think.Jesus Christ, we are so fucked.Just let me think for a second.”
