Patterson's eyebrow went up, but he nodded. "Just tell him when and he'll be there."

Grace said, "Teddy."

"Let's go," Patterson ordered his wife. "The pharmacy closes soon."

If Grace Patterson had power over her husband, she had learned when not to use it. She stood, offering her hand first to Jeffrey, then to Lena. Grace had not even talked to Lena the entire time, but the woman kept Lena 's hand in hers for longer than just a polite good-bye.

"Take care," she told Lena.

Grace Patterson stopped in front of her son before she followed her husband out the door, giving him a kiss on the cheek. She was a couple of inches shorter than he was, and she had to rise up on her toes to do this.

"Good-bye," Grace told him, patting his shoulder.

Mark watched her leave, touching his fingers to his cheek where his mother had kissed him. He looked at his fingers, as if he might see the kiss on them.

"Mark?" Jeffrey asked, getting the boy's attention.

"Sir?" he said, drawing out the word. His body was too loose to stand still, and he swayed a bit.

Jeffrey asked, "You stoned?"

"Yes, sir," he answered, putting his hand on the back of a chair to steady himself. Lena saw a large gold class ring on his finger. The red stone caught the light, and she guessed there was an initial underneath.

Mark asked, "You wanna take me to jail?"

"No," Jeffrey told him. "I want to talk to you about what happened last night."

"What happened last night," he mimicked, his words slurring together. "I wanna thank you for shooting the right person."

Jeffrey took out his notebook, flipping it open to a blank page. As Lena watched, he took out his pen and wrote Mark's name at the top of the page, asking, "You think I did?"

Mark smiled lazily. He walked around the chair and sat down, blowing air out between his lips as he did. There was something sexual even in this movement, and rather than being repulsed, as Lena thought she would have been, she was intrigued. She had never met a grown man who seemed so comfortable with himself, let alone a teenage boy.

Jeffrey started out with a hard question. "Were you the father of that baby last night?"

Mark raised his eyebrow the same way his father had. "Nope," he said, his lips smacking on the word.

Jeffrey tried a different avenue, asking, "Was your sister with you last night?"

"Naw, man," Mark answered. "My mom, you know. She's not doing too well. Lace stayed home with her." He shrugged. "She don't ask often, you know? My mom likes to leave us out of the fact that she's fucking dying."

He swallowed visibly, turning his head to the side, looking out the window. He seemed to compose himself, because when he looked back at Jeffrey, the smile was there, teasing at his lips. There was something more to this kid than his looks. A shadow seemed to be hanging over him, and not just because of what happened last night. He had about him the air of being damaged, something Lena could relate to. He seemed fragile, but slightly dangerous at the same time. Not that he was threatening like his father. If anything, Mark Patterson seemed to be a danger only to himself.

Lena found her voice for the first time since they had gotten to the trailer. "You like your sister?" she asked.

"She's a saint," Mark said, twisting the ring on his finger. "Daddy's little girl."

"Has she been feeling okay lately?" Lena asked. "She hasn't been sick or anything, right?"

Mark stared openly at Lena. There was nothing hostile about the stare. He seemed curious about her and nothing more. He said, "She seemed fine this morning. You'd have to ask her."

Lena tried, "Why was Jenny Weaver so mad at you?"

He raised his shoulders, held them there for a while, then let them drop. Lena watched as he lifted up his shirt and absently started to stroke his flat stomach. "You know, lots of girls get mad at me."

Jeffrey asked, "Were you involved with her?"

"What, in a relationship?" He shook his head slowly side to side. "Nah. I mean, I did her a couple of times, but it was nothing serious." He held up his hand to stop the next question. "This was when I was fifteen, officer."

Lena told him, "There has to be at least a five-year age difference for statutory rape."

Jeffrey shifted on the couch, obviously not pleased that Lena had given Mark this information. He could have used this threat for leverage. Now he had to find something else.

Jeffrey asked, "When was the last time you had sex with her?"

"I dunno," Mark said, still stroking his belly. There was a small tattoo on the webbing between his thumb and forefinger. Lena could make out a black heart with an inverted white heart in the center of it. Mark had obviously done this himself, because the symbol looked as rudimentary as his father's jailhouse ballpoint ink tattoos.

Lena prompted, "You had sex with her a lot?"

Mark shrugged. "Often enough," he said, still stroking his stomach. He started picking at the trail of hair between his navel and his pubis, giving Lena a sly look. She glanced at Jeffrey, wondering what he was making of this. Jeffrey was not looking, though. Instead, he was copying the tattoo into his notebook.

"Well," Jeffrey began, blacking in the heart. "Take a guess."

"Maybe a year or so ago?" Mark offered. "She wanted it, man. She begged me."

Jeffrey finished the drawing, looking up. "This isn't about nailing you for rape, Mark. I don't care if you've been banging goats in the backyard. You know what this is about."

"It's about her wanting to kill me," he said. "And why."

"Right," Lena said. "We just want to get to the bottom of this, Mark. This is about Jenny, and why she would do what she did."

Mark gave Lena a lazy smile. "Gosh, detective, you sure are pretty."

Lena felt embarrassed, and wondered what signals she had given the boy. Certainly, sex was the last thing on her mind, and she wasn't sure that she thought Mark Patterson was so much attractive as perfect. There was a cinema-idol quality to his appearance. He seemed too good-looking to be true. She was showing the same interest in him as she would a beautiful painting or an exquisite sculpture.

"You're pretty handsome yourself, Mark," she countered, making her words sharp. Teddy Patterson might be able to fuck with her, but she would be damned if his precocious boy would. "Which is why I'm puzzled about Jenny. She wasn't exactly homecoming queen material. Couldn't you get any better than that?"

Her words hit him exactly where she had intended them to, in his ego.

"Trust me, detective, I've had a lot better than that."

"Yeah?" she asked. "What, you banged her out of the goodness of your heart?"

"I let her suck me off sometimes," he said, his fingers moving lower down his belly, his eyes on Lena as he obviously tried to gauge her reaction to him touching himself. His interest gave Lena some insight into the boy. She imagined that someone so attractive was used to trading on his looks. No wonder his father, a man who had the physical presence of a freight train, was so disgusted by his son.

Suddenly, she felt sorry for him. Lena shifted on the couch, feeling a bit unsettled. She had spent such a long time feeling sorry for herself that for a moment she did not know what to do with this new emotion.

Mark said, "She had this thing she did with her tongue, like a lollipop. No teeth. It was great."

Lena felt her heart rate accelerate, willing herself not to react to his words. Probably the boy had no idea who she was or what had happened to her.

She could sense Jeffrey about to step in, so she said the first thing that came to her mind to keep him from interfering. "So, you let her give you blow jobs?" she said, trying to be flippant. Still, she kept her tongue firmly against the back of her teeth as she waited for his answer.