The Searcher(35)

“There’s a few lads around the townland that always have stuff. Everyone knows to go to them. Or he’d buy it in town, sometimes.”

“He ever do any dealing?”

“Nah.”

“Would you know?”

“He told me things. I wouldn’t rat on him. He knew that.”

There’s a quick fierce flare of pride in Trey’s eyes. Cal is getting the flavor of this. The kid was Brendan’s pet brother, and everything about that was special.

“He ever have any problems with the police?”

The corner of Trey’s mouth twists scornfully. “Mitching off school. This fat lump comes down from town and gives us shite.”

“He’s doing you guys a favor,” Cal says. “He could report it to child protective services, get you and your mama in big trouble. Instead, he takes the time to come out here and talk to you. Next time you see him, you thank him real nice. Brendan run into police any other ways?”

“He got caught speeding, coupla times. Racing, like, with his mates. Nearly lost his license.”

“Anything else?”

Trey shakes his head.

“What about stuff he didn’t get caught for?”

They look at each other. Cal says, “I told you. Any bullshit, we’re done.”

Trey says, “He robs off Noreen sometimes.”

“And?”

“And off places in town. Nothing big. Only for the laugh.”

“Anything else?”

“Nah. You gonna tell Noreen?”

“Pretty sure she already knows, kid,” Cal says dryly. “But don’t worry, I’m not gonna say anything. How’d Brendan get on with your daddy?”

Trey doesn’t flinch, just one blink. “Bad.”

“Like what?”

“They’d fight.”

“Argue? Or it got physical?”

Trey’s eyes snap furiously with the fact that this is none of Cal’s damn business. Cal sits and watches, letting the silence stretch, while the kid’s instincts drag him two ways.

“Yeah,” Trey says, in the end. His face has tightened up.

“How often?”

“Few times.”

“Over what?”

“Dad said Brendan was a waster, sponging. Bren said look who’s talking. And sometimes . . .” Trey’s chin jerks sideways, but he keeps going. He’s sticking to his side of the deal. “To make Dad leave Mam or one of us alone, sometimes. If he was raging.”

“So,” Cal says, staying back from that, “it’s not likely Brendan headed off to join your dad.”

Trey makes a harsh, explosive noise that’s something like a laugh. “No chance.”

“You got a phone number for your dad, or an email address? Just in case.”

“Nah.”

“ ’Bout for Brendan?”

“Know his phone number.”

Cal flips to a fresh page in his notebook and passes it to Trey. He writes carefully, pressing the pen down hard. The wind is still going outside, rattling the door and pushing in at its edges to wrap cold around their ankles.

“He have a smartphone?” Cal asks.

“Yeah.”

An hour with that number, and the techs at work would have known every single thing that was on Brendan’s mind. Cal has none of their skills, none of their software and of course none of their rights.

Trey passes the notebook back. “You tried calling him?” Cal asks.

That gets him the moron look. “Course. Off the land line, every time my mam’s not around.”

“And?”

For the first time that day, that terrible, tense wretchedness rises up in Trey’s face. He’s been keeping it down hard. “Voicemail,” he says.

“OK,” Cal says gently. “Straight to voicemail? Or it rings out?”

“First day, it rang out. Now it’s straight to voicemail.”

That could, of course, mean Brendan is being held captive by bad guys who haven’t provided a charger in his dungeon. Or it could mean he switched to a new phone when he got wherever he was headed. Or it could mean he hanged himself from a tree, somewhere up in the mountains, and his phone lasted a little longer than he did.

“OK,” Cal says. “That’s enough background stuff to keep me going, for now. Good job.”

Trey lets out his breath.

“Nah,” Cal says. “We’re not done yet. I need to hear about the last time you saw Brendan.”

After a second Trey takes another breath and braces himself again. It takes an effort this time. He looks drawn and shadowy-eyed all of a sudden, and too young for this, but Cal has talked to plenty of kids who were too young for this, and none of them were there by their own demand. He says, “Twenty-first of March, you said.”

“Yeah.”

“What day of the week was that?”

“Tuesday.”

“So go back a few days before that. Anything out of the ordinary happen? Brendan have a fight with your mama? With one of his buddies? Guys in town?”

“My mam doesn’t have fights. She’s not like that.”

“OK. Someone else?”

Trey shrugs. “Dunno. He didn’t say he did.”