OVER THE PHONE, Marge said to Decker, “She’s not answering her cell and she’s not answering the door.”

“Where does she live?”

“She has a condo about two miles from the hospital.”

“She’s entitled not to be home at five in the evening. Maybe she went out for an early dinner and turned off her phone.” He paused. “It’s warm outside. Do you smell anything weird?”

“Just the faint hint of cat piss outside the door.”

“Can you see inside at all?”

“Window shades are drawn. No pry marks on the front door and windows.”

“Leave your card,” Decker said. “If you don’t hear from her in a couple of hours, you can go back.”

“Oliver and I are going back to Garage. We’ll grab some dinner there.”

“You’re going to question Crystal Larabee again?”

“That and hunt around for the mystery man that Adrianna was talking to. Maybe someone will remember him.”

“It’s a little early for the bar crowd,” Decker remarked.

“That’s the point,” Marge said. “The earlier we arrive, the more likely we’ll find gray matter hasn’t been obliterated by alcohol.”

 

BY THE TIME the two of them had put away all the chairs and cleaned up, Hannah’s Volvo was the lone car in a poorly lit parking lot that sat across the street from the school. She jingled her keys.

“I have to lock up the gate.” She tried to find the correct key by feel. “Man, I’m tired.”

“You’re the president,” Gabe told her. “Can’t you assign an underling to put away the chairs?”

“Yeah, I probably should have done that at the beginning of the year.”

They waited at the traffic light. When it turned green, they trudged across the street.

“What time is it?” Gabe asked her.

“Seven-thirty. I should call home. My parents are going to start to worry. I’ll do it from the car. I just want to get out of here.”

She walked over to the wrought-iron gate and gave it a push, struggling to slide it across the track. “Can you help me get this on track?”

“Shouldn’t we do it after we pull out the car?”

“I just want to get it on track first.”

Gabe tucked his briefcase under his arm and said, “You get the car. I’ll do…”

And it was at that moment when he heard the noise, felt something in his ribs before he actually saw the small shadowed figure to his right. An ominous voice talking to him while trying to grab his briefcase.

But he really didn’t hear what the figure was saying to him. Because all Gabe could fathom was his paltry life—summated by official forms and bank accounts—being ripped away. So not only would he be parentless, he’d have no identity. Because to replace every thing stolen would require contact with Chris, explaining to his father why he had allowed some motherfucker to snatch his briefcase.

And he thought of all of this in half of a split second as he crashed his briefcase atop the mugger’s head while simultaneously knee-dropping him, sending whatever was poking into his ribs skittering to the ground. As Gabe kicked it with his left heel, sending it into the bushes behind him, he pummeled flesh—pounding and pounding and pounding until the figure was on his knees, crying and begging.

But he really didn’t hear the figure’s pleas.

What he heard was Hannah screaming at him:

Stop, stop, stop!

And like a dog that had been elevated to red-zone status, the screams suddenly snapped his mechanical throttling, drawing his attention back into the present. At once, he felt a throbbing pain in his left hand and cursed his stupidity. He let go of the mugger’s shirt until the man crawled away on all fours then got to his feet and ran off.

Gabe’s hand was raw and wet. He wiggled his fingers. Nothing broken.

God was a benevolent being—this time.

Hannah was still shrieking. He tried to project his voice over her hysteria. “It’s okay, it’s okay, it’s okay.”

She screamed, “Are you crazy!”

He was confused. In his mind, he had just done a good thing. Why was she was still yelling at him? “He had a gun to my ribs.”

“He had a gun? He had a gun? You could have gotten killed!”

“But I didn’t, okay.” He was still clutching his hand. Nothing broken, but man, it was sore. “I’m fine.”

“You’re fine?” she yelled. “You’re fine? You are not fine! You’re crazy!”

“I should have just let that motherfucker rob me?”

“Exactly. Why didn’t you just give him the damn briefcase?”

“Because I didn’t want to!”

The excuse sounded lame even to his ears. And for just the briefest of moments, he thought about confiding in her. That he’d met his father yesterday afternoon, that Chris gave him all this shit—his bank accounts, his checks, his estate papers, his passport—and he had forgotten to take them out of his briefcase because he was an idiot. And because he had been an idiot, he would have had to go back to Chris and admit that some lowlife mugged him. And he wouldn’t ever be able to look his father in the eyes again. It was better to die than to face contempt. He wanted to tell her that. But he couldn’t confess without betraying his father.

He’d simply have to wait another couple of days.

In his book, a fucking promise was a fucking promise.

“You didn’t want to?” Hannah yelled. “And that’s worth dying over?”

“It’s mine. Why should I give it to him?”

“What was it there that’s so valuable that you risked your life for it?”

“Nothing much. Just my sheet music.”

“You’re absolutely insane!” she said with disgust in her voice.

“You’re screaming at the wrong person!” Her yelling was beginning to piss him off. “I didn’t mug anyone, he did. And if I want to take a chance and get myself blown away, that’s my business!”

“Hah!” She breathed out. “You are sincerely crazy!”

“Stop calling me crazy! I’m not the one you should be mad at!”

“On the contrary, you’re the perfect person to be mad at. You nearly got yourself killed over a stupid briefcase filled with sheet music. What if he tried to shoot me?”

“That’s why I stopped him—”

“And on top of that, you look like you wrecked your hands. How stupid is that!”

“You know, I have enough shit in my life without your telling me I’m stupid, okay?” He waved her off. “Fuck all of this! I’m outta here!”

He charged down the street in the darkness without knowing where he was or where he was going. He heard her running after him. She grabbed his arm.

“Let’s just go home.”

“You go home, Hannah.” He was still walking. “See, you have a home. At present, I’m homeless, remember?”

“Gabe, stop. Stop!” She yanked at his arm. “Stop walking!”

Now she was sobbing.

He stopped walking and groaned.

Another ridiculous, sobbing female who couldn’t keep it together. His mom, whenever she was desperate, turned on the water-works. His aunt was absolutely a nutcase, always weeping about something real or imaginary. Sometimes it was easier to deal with his dad’s fury than his mom’s hysteria.

It was dark and he was starved. If he was going to leave to be on his own, he figured he’d do it on a full stomach. “Fine, Hannah. Let’s go back to your home and see your parents and eat your dinner that was prepared by your mom!”

“Stop making me feel guilty!” she yelled.

“Stop screaming!”

In a huff, Hannah headed for the car, but Gabe hesitated. “I want to look for the gun. It’s a bad idea to leave it for some kid or another motherfucker to find.”

Hannah stopped walking. “Good idea. I’ll help you.”

“No, I’ll do it. You turn the car around and shine the headlights into the bushes so I can see, okay?”

She complied with his wishes. When she realized it was taking a while, she got out and helped him search. They were both on their knees moving through brush that stank of trash, rotten food, and dog excrement. It felt positively yucky to be touching anything. “Maybe it wasn’t a gun, Gabe. Maybe he held you up with these disgusting chopsticks over here.”

“It wasn’t chopsticks, it was a gun.”

“And you know what a gun feels like?”

“You’d better believe it.”

She didn’t say anything. Sometimes it was best not to continue a conversation. A few minutes later, Hannah saw something glint. “What’s that?”

“Where?”

“Under that bush over to the right of the McDonald’s wrapper.”

Gabe dropped onto his stomach and crawled under a bush. “Good eye. Go in the car. I’ll get it out.”

“I’ll wait with you.”

“Hannah, in case it discharges, you shouldn’t be around. Just go in the car, okay?”

“I’ll stand back, but I’m not leaving you here alone.” It was bad enough being bossed around by her dad; she wasn’t about to take lip from a kid three years younger than she was.

“Fine, just move out of the way.” Gabe carefully extended his left hand under the brush. Of course, it had thorns. His fingers were normally very long but the swelling had turned his digits to sausages. Eventually, his fingers wrapped around the butt of the weapon and retrieved it from the brush. He stood up and carefully took out the magazine. “Nine-millimeter semiautomatic. That ain’t no chopstick, sister.” He stowed the gun in his briefcase, then tried to close the gate and winced.

“I’ll do it,” Hannah said.

“It’s heavy.”

“As long as it’s on the track, I can slide it. Just take care of your hand.” She closed the gate, locked it, then got into the driver’s seat and turned on the motor. “I’m sorry I yelled at you.” She had tears in her eyes. “I was just scared.”

“Forget it. I’m sorry if I scared you.”

“You were scarier than the mugger.” She eased onto the roadway. “God, I thought you were going to kill him.”

“Better him than me.”

“That’s for sure. Where’s the gun?”

“In my briefcase.”

“We’ll give it to my dad. Maybe he can find out who it belongs to. Let me tell him what happened. I don’t want him to freak out. I can handle the situation more calmly.”

“You can handle the situation more calmly?” Gabe asked.

“I’m calmer now.”

The next few minutes were spent in silence.

Gabe said, “Your dad wouldn’t have let himself be mugged.”

“My dad has been a police officer for like forty years.”

“It doesn’t matter. Either you’re that type of person or you’re not.”

“Fine. You’re a superhero.”

“Jesus Christ, I’m not saying that—”

“Just let me tell my dad, okay?”

“Do whatever you want, okay. It’s your father. I’m just an abandoned outsider.”

“Stop trying to make me feel bad.”

“I’m not.” But he really was. He exhaled. “I think I’ll call up my aunt and stay with her this weekend. I should see her anyway.”

Hannah didn’t argue. “How are your hands?”

“My left one is killing me.” He looked upward. “He was down at the first count. I didn’t have to beat the shit out of him. That was stupid.”

“You’re left-handed?”

“Right-handed, but it just seemed easier to hit him with my left. Actually, that was probably a good thing.”

“We’re going to pass a 7-Eleven. I’ll get you a bag of ice.”

“I’ll get it. You stay in the car.”

She pulled into the parking lot. He got out, and five minutes later, he was carrying a five-pound bag of ice. Once he was seated, he ripped it open and plunged his left hand into the frozen water, kept it there until it was almost numb. Then he pulled it out and did it again. “I didn’t break anything. It’s just a little sore.”

“That’s good.”

More silence until they got home. They both got out. She opened the door and Gabe went inside first. Decker was sitting on the couch reading the paper. “You’re home late.” He looked at Gabe’s hand and the bag of ice. “What happened to you?”

The boy didn’t answer, going straight into his temporary shelter.

Hannah said, “Don’t freak, okay?”

Rina stepped into the living room. “What’s going on?”

“We’re fine…I’m fine,” Hannah said. “Someone tried to mug us.”

“Oh my God!” Rina rushed over and hugged her daughter. “Are you hurt?”

“No, I’m okay.”

Decker stood up. “Did you call 911?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“The guy got away—”

“You still should have called 911. You should have called me.”

“Abba, everything was okay, so—”

“It’s not okay. He’s not okay,” Decker scolded her. “He’s obviously hurt. You should have called me right away. What were you thinking?”

“Could you please not yell at me?” Hannah burst into tears.

“It’s all right, Chanelah,” Rina cooed. “You’re okay. You’re safe.”

Decker plopped down on the couch and held out his hands to his daughter. “You’re right. Now’s not the time. Come sit down, Pumpkin. Please.” Hannah sat between her parents. “Could you tell me what happened?”

“I don’t even know what happened.” She dried her tears on her shirt. “Gabe and I were closing the gate to the parking lot—”

“Why were you closing the gate?” Decker wanted to know.

“Because we were the last ones in the school to leave.”

“It’s not your responsibility to lock up,” Decker said. “I’m calling up the school—”

“Abba, no!”

“What do you mean, no?”

“Peter, can you just let her finish?” Rina said.

Decker clenched and unclenched his hands. “I’m sorry. Go on. You were closing the gate.”

“We were closing the gate. The next thing I knew, Gabe was on top of this guy, beating the crap out of him. I didn’t know exactly what happened until afterward.”

“What happened afterward?”

“He said the guy tried to steal his briefcase. Gabe fought back. He’s a scrappy kid.”

Rina and Peter exchanged glances. Decker said, “That’s how he hurt his hand?”

Hannah nodded.

“So the guy didn’t have a weapon?” Decker asked.

“Uh, he had a gun. He stuck it in Gabe’s rib cage.”

“He had a gun and Gabe attacked him?”

“Yeah, pretty stupid, huh. He should have just given the guy the briefcase. It all happened so fast. It was really scary. But don’t yell at him. I’ve already done enough of that for both of us. He feels pretty stupid right now.”

“He should feel stupid,” Decker exclaimed.

Hannah didn’t say anything.

Rina looked at her husband. “What should we do?”

“What do you mean?” Hannah asked.

“She means his stupid judgment could have gotten you both killed.”

Hannah said. “He just like…overreacted. You know how it is when adrenaline kicks in. Tell you the truth, Abba, I could see you doing that.”

“I’m a trained police officer, Hannah.”

“I bet you’d do it even if you weren’t.”

Decker didn’t address her statement. “You’re his defense attorney, all of a sudden?”

Again, Hannah felt her best option was to say nothing.

Decker turned to his wife. “What should I do?”

“Why don’t we talk to him and ask what happened.”

“I’m really not interested in a therapy session. Do we let him stay or do we send him to his aunt’s and wash our hands of this whole entire mess?”

“You’re worried that he’s violent?” Rina said.

“It’s occurred to me. We don’t know a thing about him except he has bad genetics on his paternal side.”

“He’s not violent,” Hannah said.

“You just said he beat the crap out of this guy.”

“He beat the mugger, he didn’t beat me. For goodness’ sakes, he might have saved my life. He’s not rash. As a matter of fact, he’s tightly wound. And anyone would be considering the circumstances he’s gone through. I can’t tell you what to do, but you know that he’s basically homeless.”

“He has relatives, Hannah, but that’s not the point,” Rina said. “Do you punish a kid for acting altruistically—”

“Stupidly,” Decker said.

“Maybe, but maybe not. We don’t know what happened. And maybe in his circle, you fight or you get your derriere kicked by your friends and by your father.”

“Not when there’s a weapon involved,” Decker said.

“You know…” Hannah stopped herself.

“What?” Decker said.

“Nothing.”

“Tell me, Hannah. I need to know everything if I’m going to make a sensible decision.”

Hannah said, “We went looking for the gun afterward. Gabe didn’t want to leave it around in case the mugger returned.”

“Technically he was a robber.”

“Whatever, Abba. Gabe didn’t want to leave the gun around like in case a little kid was playing in the bushes and found it.”

“Well, that was smart,” Rina said.

“I’m not impressed,” Decker said.

“Anyway, we were looking on the ground for it and I found a pair of chopsticks. Then I jokingly said maybe he was held up with chopsticks. Then Gabe said that it wasn’t chopsticks, that it felt like a gun. Then I asked him if he knew what a gun felt like. And he said, ‘You’d better believe it.’”

No one talked for a moment.

“Like he’s had experience with weapons,” Hannah said. “So maybe that’s why he reacted. Maybe guns don’t scare him that much.”

“That’s the problem, Hannah. Guns should scare him.” Decker blew out air. “But knowing his father, there’s truth in what you said. Are you sure you’re okay?”

“I’m fine.”

“Where’s the gun?” Decker asked.

“Gabe has it.”

“Well, first things first.” Decker stood up. “Let me get the weapon out of his hands.”