Real Bad Things(97)

“They’re not going to know anything other than what you see. An overdose. On the eve of her arrest.” He stared at Diane’s lifeless form on the couch and then looked at Jane. “And they’re not going to find Warren.”

How could he know that?

“Jason?” His name came out as a question. “What did you do?”

He started to laugh, and then it turned into a cry and his face looked more peaceful than she’d ever seen it.

“I saved myself,” he said.

She shook her head. “I don’t understand.”

“It’s better this way.”

“No . . .” She shrugged out of his grip. “I’m not leaving.” He swallowed and sighed and did all those things he and Angie did when they were exasperated with her and couldn’t get their way. “What did you do?”

He grabbed her arm and tried to push her toward the door, but she dropped her body weight and hit the floor.

“Jesus,” he said. “Get up!”

“No! Tell me why. What do you know? What did you do?”

Now the room seemed to pulse with their tension. Her head pounded, and she felt like she might vomit. But she refused to move, even as he tried to pick her up and bring her to her feet. She squirmed away.

“Goddammit, Jane! Why do you always have to be this way?”

“Because you always have to be this way! Shutting me out. Not telling me things. Things like what you did. Why you know that Warren won’t be found.”

“Because we took care of him!” he screamed, but then stood still as if he’d startled himself. “He’s gone. He’s not coming back.”

She shook her head in confusion. “Who took care of him?”

He lifted his head to listen. “You need to go.”

She didn’t move.

“They’re coming.”

“Who? Tell me!”

He ran his hands through his hair. “They’ll be here any minute.”

“I’m not going anywhere.”

He stared at her, blinked. Everything in her ached. But mostly not knowing, confusion at the smallest things. She’d endured a lifetime of that. No more.

Finally, he crouched down to her level. Fear and anger flicked across his face. His breathing was ragged. Sirens called out in the distance.

“I stopped him.” Jason looked at her, but it was like he was watching a movie in his mind, recalling events.

“Who?”

“I heard them.”

“Who?” she cried. “Who did you hear?” But he was lost in the memory.

“I thought he was hurting her. He always hurt her. She had a black eye. That night. I grabbed your bat.”

“What night? What—”

“He wasn’t . . .” He laughed and gasped at the same time. He shook his head. “They were having sex.” He stared into the distance. “I hit him. A lot.”

She grabbed his hands, absorbed the information as quickly as she could. But she still had no idea what he was talking about. “I don’t understand.”

“Rick.” She almost asked who when it came to her. The one who had told them he hated kids the first day he met them. “I was only seven,” Jason explained, still lost in thought. “I didn’t mean to—”

“It was an accident, then?” She squeezed his hand. “An accident.”

“That time.” Then he looked at her. This time, really looked at her. “It wasn’t an accident the other times.”

“What?” she whispered.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t want to.” His eyes shifted to the couch. “She made me.”

“Made you do what?” And then a spark of a memory. The image of him in the police station when she’d run into the room, alarm in his eyes, trying to get her to stay quiet. “Is this about the box of photos?” She couldn’t be sure, but she thought his pupils pulsated. “Did she . . .” The words stuck on her tongue. “What did you help her do?”

“Warren.” He looked at the dirty carpet, not at her. “She knew what I did. She helped me that night . . . she made me. So many times. So many men. It . . . so I made her help me.” He cleared his throat, but it came out dry and painful sounding. “He was the last. I didn’t have anything to do with the others. Until . . .” He looked over at Diane and choked back a sob. “I had to. I had to do it.”

“The others?” She sobbed. “What others?” She looked behind her at Diane, dead, and faced him. She thought about the twenty-three men in the shoebox. She thought about the Missing Men of Maud. About the whispers. The rumors. “You did this? Why did you . . . what did she make you do?”

Tears stretched along the contours of his face, so much older now. But still there, in his eyes, the boy he’d been then. “Real bad things.”

Everything in her collapsed. “Jason, no.” She muttered no repeatedly under her breath, tears mixing with the words to create the most mournful sound she’d ever made. He managed to get her to her feet. She could barely see from the tension in her head, the tears.

No. No. No.

Sirens drew closer. “I’ll call you. I’ll find you. When everything is settled.”