The Last Child

“Lovely.”

“Two felony counts.”

“What kind?”

“Check kiting and fraud. One more felony and she goes down hard. Three strikes. That could give Cross leverage if he caught her doing something dirty.”

“How do we play it?”

“Easy.” Hunt opened his door. “We lie.”

Yoakum tucked the gun away as they stepped onto the small porch. Through the window, they saw a long, low sofa, man on it, feet up. He looked the same to Hunt. Scrawny and unshaven. Dirty. He had a sunken chest and ski

Hunt knocked on the door and the television winked out. He stepped back as the woman’s heavy step put a vibration in the cheap structure. Her face filled the small window: brown teeth, bad skin.

“Be still, my heart,” Yoakum whispered.

Hunt put his shield against the glass. Bolts dropped on the inside and the woman appeared behind the torn screen. “Hold it up again,” she said.

Hunt held up the badge. “Detective Cross sent us.”

The woman lit a cigarette, blew smoke. Her eyes ran over Hunt, then up Yoakum and back down. “What does he want now?”

“May we come in?”

She looked them over one more time, took another pull on the cigarette. “Wipe your feet.”

There was no truck in front of the tobacco barn. No Jack. In the weak light from the car’s one headlight, Joh

Joh

Meet me at the place.

The past few years were full of places, but Joh

He turned in the scrub and the car bottomed out.

Joh

He passed few cars. It was late. Large bugs clacked on the windshield and his vision blurred more than once. He was exhausted, stretched so thin that he almost missed the turn off the main road. The track was overgrown and rutted, weeds still bent from the cop cars that came for David Wilson. It dropped steeply toward the river, bridge rising on the left. Washouts twisted the wheel in Joh

Joh

“I’m over here, Joh

The voice drifted out from beneath the bridge. Jack’s voice. Drunk sounding. Once under the bridge, Joh

“What the hell is going on, Jack?” Joh

“I’m sorry, man.” His words were so sloppy Joh

“Sorry for what?” Joh

Jack shook his head, put his face in his hands. “Cowardice is a sin.”

Joh

“Would you say good things about me if somebody asked?” Jack ran a forearm under his nose. “Just a what-if, Joh

“What about the rest of the guilt, Jack? What about Alyssa? You knew where she was? All this time?”

“Lies and weakness. Those are sins, too.”

“Jack.”

“God forgives the little sins.”

“All this time.”

“I tried to keep you safe.” Jack rocked on the stone. “She was dead.” He shook his head. “She was already dead.”

“What happened to my sister?” Joh

Jack pulled in a deep, rough breath, kept his eyes on the water. “I loaned her my bike. That’s all I did. I was trying to help. You’ve got to believe that.”

“Tell me the rest of it.”

“We were at the library, a bunch of us. You remember that project we had to do?” Joh

Jack ground at his eyes. Small hand. Normal hand. Both of them balled and shaking. “He said he wanted to scare her.”

“Who?”

“It was supposed to be a joke.”

“Gerald?” Joh

“She was pedaling so hard.”

“Oh, no.”

“Right on the edge of the pavement.” A pause. “He just wanted to scare her.”

“What happened, Jack?”

“He was drinking.”

Joh

“She looked back, and I guess it was the headlights, the closeness. I don’t know. She lost it. Went down. She went under the truck. Gerald freaked. He called my father.” Jack was crying. “She was dead, Joh

“I don’t understand.”

“Dead and gone. I wanted to tell, but Gerald was already being scouted by the pros.”

“What does that have to do with anything?”

“Dad said if word got out, he could kiss all that goodbye.”

“You lied because of Gerald’s baseball career.” Joh

“I wanted to tell.”

“But you didn’t.”

Jack was crying softly now. “Joh

“All this time.”