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Ma
The girl murmured something under her breath.
“What was that? What did she say?”
“She said maybe Ronald upstairs.”
“Ronald, now? How come she’s helping the police and you’re not helping the police, Jerome? I’m about done with you, son. Who else is in this house?”
“Maybe Ronald.”
“Maybe Ronald.” Ray sighed theatrically. “Jerome, when you are standing tall before the judge I am going to be your only friend, do you understand that? What am I going to tell the judge, Jerome? That you lied to the police and made them go looking for Maybe Ronald, or that you helped resolve this situation?”
“I don’t know.” The kid’s voice was muffled by the carpet.
“What?”
“I don’t know.”
“You can be a hero, Jerome. You can be the one makes sure no one gets hurt, that the police get the money and the drugs off the street. Believe me, Jerome, you want me to tell the judge you were a hero and not an uncooperative dirtbag. You know the difference?”
There was a long silence.
“I don’t know.”
The kid with the Iverson shirt said, “Heroes get a beatdown.”
Ray looked at him. “Shut up. Heroes get to finish high school, and dirtbags go to jail.” He finished cuffing the kids on the floor and straightened up.
Ma
Jerome leaned against the wall, unbalanced with his hands cuffed behind him. He called up the stairs. “Ronald!”
Ray waggled his eyebrows at Ma
“Ronald! Come on down here with your hands up.” Ma
“What?” The voice was high- pitched, quavering.
Ma
“No, I don’t.”
“Then come on down.” There was another silence. Ray trained his pistol on the stairs and waited.
“How I know you won’t shoot me?”
Ma
The kid with the Iverson shirt said, “Bullshit, they don’t.”
After a long minute, brilliant white Jordans appeared at the top of the stairs; then Ronald slowly walked down, looking all of about twelve in an oversized red jeans jacket and gold chains. When he reached the bottom step, Ma
Iverson said, “Punk,” under his breath.
Ray flicked the back of his head with the plastic cuffs. “Shut your mouth.” He ratcheted the cuffs around the smaller kid’s ski
Ma
Ma
His eyes kept going to the picture on the wall. A light- ski
Ray leaned over the kids. “Jerome, where’s the rest of the money and the stash?” The big kid was silent. The kid with the Iverson jersey shifted, glaring at Jerome. Ray snapped his fingers. “Don’t look at Iverson, look at me. Where’s the rest?”
“I don’t know.”
“You do know. Don’t look at him. Is he going to do your time?
Is he going to take care of your mom while you do ten years up state? Is he going to talk to the judge for you and get you home to night in time to watch The Gilmore Girls?”
“No.”
“No is right.” Ma
Ma
He backed into the kitchen. Ma
“Keep your heads down and be still. Since Jerome isn’t telling us what we need to know, we’re searching the rest of the house. I’m leaving Maybe Ronald in charge.” He ducked back into the kitchen and followed Ma
They drove in silence for a minute, Ma
Ray thought about the kids lying in the front room, whispering to each other. He wondered how long it would take them to begin to move around, get up, tiptoe into the kitchen, their heads cocked for the slightest sound. He imagined Jerome peering down the cellar steps, his hands still cuffed, and realizing they weren’t coming back. He rifled in the green trash bag for a minute, then held his hand out to Ma
“Jolly Rancher?”
RAY WATCHED THE cars around them as they drove west on the Pe