The Speed of Sound (Speed of Sound Thrillers #1)(53)

“He wants to hear his mother sing.”

McHenry nodded, adding it to the list of things he would be asking her as he pulled into the narrow driveway of his own mother’s house.

“Is this your place?” Skylar asked.

“Do I look like I would have graham crackers in my cupboard?”

“Right next to the Budweiser.”

In the back seat, Eddie began humming the brand’s old jingle.

“It’s my mother’s house.”

“This is where you grew up?” said Skylar.

Butler nodded. “We’re only staying here long enough to get him his crackers.” He got out and walked briskly toward the house, only to realize Eddie was not following. He was standing still in the driveway, doing his usual head rotation with his eyes closed. Wind WHISTLED through the branches of a dying elm tree. An old swing set that had been rusting for thirty years SQUEAKED lightly in the yard. Traffic could be heard all around them, including a lot of big rigs. The Cross Island Parkway was only a few blocks away.

McHenry was becoming annoyed. “He does realize we’re in a hurry, doesn’t he?”

Skylar explained, “He has to familiarize himself with every new environment.”

Eddie had heard enough. “I don’t like it here.”

Skylar watched him closely. “Why not?”

He kept his eyes closed as he answered. “I don’t hear any birds. Not a bluebird, not a sparrow, not even a starling.”

“What do you hear?”

“A squeaky swing set. Old dogs. Four of them. There is a highway approximately five blocks away. There are a lot of trucks on the highway. Most of the trucks are at least ten years old. Some of them are much older.”

McHenry looked at him with interest. “How can you tell how old the trucks are?”

“New trucks sound different from old trucks, just like young people sound different from old people.” Eddie stopped rotating his head and opened his eyes.

“Are you comfortable yet?” Skylar knew not to push.

“I’m hungry.”

Skylar nodded slightly. “I’ll take that as a yes.” Eddie carried his precious devices and followed McHenry into the house.

The detective picked up several days’ worth of mail, which was strewn around the faded hardwood floor of the entryway below the mail slot. The home’s decorations and furnishings were from another era. Wallpaper that was once white was now a mild yellow. The Formica countertops were well worn. The dining-room table was noticeably warped, and the rug in the kitchen had dozens of stains of all variety and vintage. The house was a time capsule. “I just had to put my mother in a home. She couldn’t take care of herself after she broke her hip.”

“I can’t take care of myself, either.”

McHenry led them into the kitchen and searched through the cupboards until he found a box of graham crackers. “Bingo.”

“What does bingo mean?”

“It’s something you say when you find what you’re looking for.”

Eddie turned toward Skylar. “Bingo.”

For just a second, he looked her in the eyes. Not because he was instructed to, like he had been in so many practice exercises with so many different doctors over the years. He did it because he wanted to see her reaction. Because it mattered to him. Because he felt connected to someone for the first time in his life.

Skylar caught it. Felt it in her spine. She had been on alert for such a moment ever since their walk to nowhere in particular, but she honestly hadn’t expected it this soon. She had once shared a similar moment with her younger brother, Christopher, but that had taken years. It happened just before she went to college, which was incredibly unfortunate. Skylar had reached him just before she had to leave him, and he never recovered from it. Skylar never forgave herself for his death, which had everything to do with the emptiness she’d felt all these years.

As she returned Eddie’s gaze, she promised herself she would not allow the same thing to happen to him. In fact, she swore on her life. She would rather die than see anything happen to him. Because if she couldn’t save him, she could never save herself. And she’d been living in a cell of her own making for quite long enough.

That, and, given the circumstances, she needed someone to cling to.

Butler handed Eddie the box of graham crackers. “Can we go now?”

“I haven’t eaten my afternoon snack yet.”

“You can eat in the car.”

Eddie stared at him. “Is that a joke, Detective McHenry?”

“Do I look like I’m joking?”

Eddie studied the man’s face closely. “I have difficulty interpreting facial expressions.”

Skylar put her hand on Butler’s shoulder. “Just . . . let him eat here. We’d only have to pull over, anyway. Trust me.”

She asked the detective if there was a glass Eddie could use. He gave her one, and she carefully poured Eddie a six-ounce serving of milk. She then removed two graham-cracker sheets from the box and handed them to him. Eddie broke one of the large rectangular pieces into two squares, then broke each of the squares into two smaller rectangles. He did the same with the second sheet and neatly stacked the eight small rectangles on top of each other. After placing a napkin on his lap, he took a bite of graham cracker and chewed it carefully. “Three. Not fresh.” He took another bite and a sip of milk. “Four. This milk is just the right temperature. Nice and cold.”