Noah studied Eric’s body. “He’s pretty skinny. He might have been able to haul Joel, especially if he was scared. But it makes more sense that Albert carried him out, especially since he whacked him.”

“Mary wasn’t on the dock, because Austin saw a man. Maybe it was Albert on the dock and Mary helped Eric carry Joel away.”

“Maybe, maybe. Let’s find Albert and Mary and get something solid.”

Wednesday, September 22, 12:30 p.m.

Austin hung back in the shadows in the alley beside the library. From here he could see any car coming in from the street and at his back was a chain-link fence, eight feet tall, so no one would sneak up from behind.

It was as safe as he was going to get under the circum-stances.

He held his breath, although his gut told him what was about to happen. The library was almost a mile from the school. For Kenny to make it here by 12:30, he’d have to cut the last ten minutes of his third-period English class. And old lady McMann did not give bathroom passes. Ever. Chances that Kenny was coming? Close to nil.

A white van pulled into the parking lot and a man got out and walked by Austin’s mom’s car. Frozen where he stood, Austin’s eyes fixed on the face of the man who’d shot that guard, who’d set the fire that killed Tracey. When he moved, his jacket shifted and Austin could see the glint of metal. He had a gun. The gun he’d used on the guard.

The man looked around again, his face red and furious, then started walking again.

This way. He’s coming this way. Oh God. What do I do?

Run. But there was nowhere to go and he had only a dull souvenir knife in his pocket. Don’t move. Do not move.

The man stopped abruptly, got back in his van and drove away.

Austin slumped against the brick wall, trembling. What made the man leave? He needed to find the cops. But he was afraid to move. Afraid to breathe. Afraid the man was waiting on the street for him to emerge from his hiding place.

Hands shaking, Austin opened his phone, found the text from Captain Bruce Abbott. It’s Austin, he typed. I need help. He hit SEND.

In seconds he got a reply. Where are you?

He hesitated, then figured at least the cops wouldn’t shoot him. Library near school.

I’ll have an officer there in two minutes. Do not leave. Please.

Two minutes was too long. The man would be back, Austin knew. He’d park his van and come back on foot. He opened the text from the fake Kenny and typed a fake reply. Cops came. Had to run. Hiding behind Swindoll’s. Swindoll’s was an Italian ice shop, six blocks away in the other direction. Please come fast. Scared.

In a moment the man with the gun replied. Okay. Stay there.

Two men in dark suits ran by, one with a radio in his hand. Cops. They’d scared the man away. Legs like rubber, Austin walked into the sunlight.

“Help,” he cried, hoping they’d understand. The two suits wheeled around and ran back toward him. Austin fell to his knees behind a stranger’s car, huddled over so that he was hidden from the road. “He’s coming,” he signed, trying to say the words clearly, but his heart was beating so hard and his tongue wouldn’t work. “He’ll see me. He has a white van.”

One of the men ran off, the other giving him a nod before lifting his eyes to watch the road. They’d understood. A minute later a dark car drove up and he was bundled in the backseat where he cowered out of sight. Peeking over the backseat, he saw a cruiser pull up, lights flashing. The two men in suits were talking to the two cops.

“Hey,” Austin said and mimicked writing. One of the suits gave him paper and pen.

He was here, Austin wrote quickly. He saw you and left. I txt him that I ran to Swindoll’s. He handed the paper back to the suit and pointed toward Swindoll’s.

The suit motioned for Austin to stay down, then spoke to the other men before leaning against his car and writing a reply. He passed the paper back to Austin.

Why did you meet him here?

Austin sighed. He said he was my friend Kenny, he wrote. Said you wanted to arrest me. Didn’t know who to trust. I figured I’d bring him here, see if it was Kenny, but it wasn’t. It was the man who shot the guard. Wearily he passed the paper back.

The man in the suit made a call on his cell phone, then said something in his radio. He proceeded to write in the book for a long time, then handed it back.

I’m Detective Phelps. You’re safe now. Keep your head down. We think this man has a police scanner in his van. Your friend Kenny saw it last night when the man grabbed him. We put out on the radio that we found your car but that you escaped. We want that white van to keep looking for you so we can find him. So stay down and don’t use your phone again. When we get to the precinct, we’ll get an interpreter.

Austin’s pounding heart started to slow down. What about my mom? he wrote.

My captain will contact her and tell her you’re safe. We’ll bring her here.

Austin let himself relax a little. For now he was safe, but that man was still out there. How will the cops know to look for him? And where is Kenny? he wrote, then passed the book back.

We have a special radio frequency for this case. Kenny’s in a safe house. I’ll be back in a minute. Keep your head down. The detective gave him the notebook, then held out his hand to take it back when Austin had read what he’d written. Then he disappeared, leaving Austin to hope like hell he’d done the right thing.

He turned down his scanner. The cops had seen the kid’s car, dammit, but the kid had given them the slip. The whole neighborhood was suddenly crawling with cops, who after last night would be looking for a white van.

“Now what?” he muttered aloud. The kid was on foot, he couldn’t have gone far. He drove past the ice-cream shop slowly, courtesy of the drivers in front of him who were rubbernecking. No kid. He kept going, past the school, stopping in a grocery parking lot. There were so many vans parked here that his vehicle wouldn’t stick out.

He’d started walking, looking for the kid, when another text came through. Different phone, other pocket. It was from the phone he’d given Eric, now controlled by Albert.

Fuck you, it read. There was an attachment. Opening it, he found himself staring at the picture on his small telephone screen. This day was not getting any better.

Wednesday, September 22, 1:00 p.m.

They shouldn’t have wasted their time with the registrar, Olivia thought grimly. Albert’s dorm hadn’t been very hard to find at all. It would be the one with all the police cars and the rescue squad in front. “I have a bad feeling about this,” she said.

“Let’s hurry before they touch anything,” Noah said, already jogging.

A uniformed officer waited in the small sitting area of Albert’s dorm suite. “Body’s in the back bedroom. Roommate found him.” The officer pointed to a young man who stood to one side, his face pale. “He says he didn’t touch anything.”

“We’d appreciate it if you could talk to us,” Noah said to the kid. “Stay here, okay?”

“Dammit,” Olivia muttered when she stood in the doorway. A twin bed was situated against one wall and Albert’s large body dominated it. He lay on his back, much as Eric had, nude. A paramedic was kneeling on the floor next to him, packing up his kit.

“He’s dead, Detective,” the paramedic said. “ME can tell you for sure, but at least for a few hours. Looks like he took too many.” He pointed to the nightstand, where there was a small plastic baggie with a few pills remaining inside. “Percocet.”

Emotions churned inside her-frustration, but mostly impotent rage. Albert and Eric had hurt so many, but they’d never stand for their crimes.

Pushing the rage aside, she bent to study Albert’s pelvis, earning her a stare from the medic. “Right there,” she said. “Same needle hole as the others. Sonofabitch.”