I said. Gelson finished his lap, ran back off the track, took his position. I could see his chest rising and falling as he waited for the whistle. When it blew he crashed the sled with a new viciousness, but his timing was still off, when to plant his foot, when to throw his shoulder. For his size, he didn't have the power he should have had. I said, "I think more than one of these kids probably knows what happened there."
"No idea," Ryder said.
"Who're Gary's friends on the team?"
"I don't know."
"I hear he's a buddy of Randy Macpherson's."
"I wouldn't know about that."
"Christ, Ryder, what's your problem? I need your help here. I'm looking for a kid."
Ryder turned his hard face to me. "I've been coaching here for thirty-three years, Smith. Kids come and go. You try your best to make men out of them. Sometimes you get pussies like Gelson over there and you can't, but mostly these are good kids. But guys like you, you just want to make trouble. Leave these kids alone."
"Thirty-three years? Then you were here when that other thing happened. The rape, and the suicide." Touchy, Sullivan had said. People around here were touchy. "That why you won't talk to me? I'm from outside, and this is too much like that?"
Ryder stepped forward, blew his whistle, two short blasts. Instantly everyone stopped what they were doing, began jogging in place. Ryder turned back to me.
"Get the fuck off my field."
He marched forward, shouting commands, and the boys scrambled to do as he said.
* * *
I didn't go back through the building, walked around it instead to get to my car. Way to go, Smith, I congratulated myself. Bring up something they don't want to hear about: a great persuasive technique for use on people reluctant to talk.
I was unlocking the car when my cell phone rang. I leaned against the door in the sunshine and answered it.
"Smith."
"You son of a bitch." It was Scott, the rage in his voice hemmed in by a hard, tight control. "What the hell do you think you're doing?"
"Looking for your son."
"Where are you?"
"Warrenstown," I said. "The high school. Where are you?"
"I'm in New York, you fucker! Goddammit, I told you to leave it alone!"
"You getting anywhere?"
"Fuck you! I can handle this."
"Christ, Scott, will you let it go?" I switched phone hands, pulled a cigarette from my pocket. "You can't stand me, fine. We find Gary, you don't ever have to see me again. Meanwhile, let me help."
"Oh, you're a big fucking help. The cops think Gary killed some girl, thanks to you."
"That's not how it happened."
"It's what they told me."
"Sullivan said that?"
"Fuck Sullivan, I called the chief. He said you were at that girl's house looking for Gary when she turned up dead. You weren't there, they'd never have connected him."
"Every kid at that party's a suspect right now."
"Other kids have private eyes calling the cops on them? Ratting out your family, nothing new there for you. But this is my family, Smith. Get the hell out of Warrenstown and keep away from my wife."
I felt hot blood flash into my face. I said, "My sister."
"She gave a damn she was your sister, she'd call you sometimes. She doesn't want to talk to you. We don't want you around, Smith, not my family."
"Gary gave the cops my name last night," I said. "Not yours."
"Oh, man!" Scott exploded. "Oh, you cocksucker! You're fucked now, man. I'm telling you, you're fucked."
Three boys came around the building to the lot, pushing and shoving each other, laughing. I almost said something more to Scott, but I stopped myself, lowered the phone, thumbed it off. I forced my grip on it to loosen; I was surprised I hadn't broken it. I turned the ringer off, slipped the phone back in my pocket, left my brother-in-law in New York wanting me out of his town, his problem, his life.
I smoked another cigarette as I drove across town. I wanted another one after that, but I didn't light it. Screw Scott, screw his accusations, his threats and his anger. I parked in front of
"No idea," Ryder said.
"Who're Gary's friends on the team?"
"I don't know."
"I hear he's a buddy of Randy Macpherson's."
"I wouldn't know about that."
"Christ, Ryder, what's your problem? I need your help here. I'm looking for a kid."
Ryder turned his hard face to me. "I've been coaching here for thirty-three years, Smith. Kids come and go. You try your best to make men out of them. Sometimes you get pussies like Gelson over there and you can't, but mostly these are good kids. But guys like you, you just want to make trouble. Leave these kids alone."
"Thirty-three years? Then you were here when that other thing happened. The rape, and the suicide." Touchy, Sullivan had said. People around here were touchy. "That why you won't talk to me? I'm from outside, and this is too much like that?"
Ryder stepped forward, blew his whistle, two short blasts. Instantly everyone stopped what they were doing, began jogging in place. Ryder turned back to me.
"Get the fuck off my field."
He marched forward, shouting commands, and the boys scrambled to do as he said.
* * *
I didn't go back through the building, walked around it instead to get to my car. Way to go, Smith, I congratulated myself. Bring up something they don't want to hear about: a great persuasive technique for use on people reluctant to talk.
I was unlocking the car when my cell phone rang. I leaned against the door in the sunshine and answered it.
"Smith."
"You son of a bitch." It was Scott, the rage in his voice hemmed in by a hard, tight control. "What the hell do you think you're doing?"
"Looking for your son."
"Where are you?"
"Warrenstown," I said. "The high school. Where are you?"
"I'm in New York, you fucker! Goddammit, I told you to leave it alone!"
"You getting anywhere?"
"Fuck you! I can handle this."
"Christ, Scott, will you let it go?" I switched phone hands, pulled a cigarette from my pocket. "You can't stand me, fine. We find Gary, you don't ever have to see me again. Meanwhile, let me help."
"Oh, you're a big fucking help. The cops think Gary killed some girl, thanks to you."
"That's not how it happened."
"It's what they told me."
"Sullivan said that?"
"Fuck Sullivan, I called the chief. He said you were at that girl's house looking for Gary when she turned up dead. You weren't there, they'd never have connected him."
"Every kid at that party's a suspect right now."
"Other kids have private eyes calling the cops on them? Ratting out your family, nothing new there for you. But this is my family, Smith. Get the hell out of Warrenstown and keep away from my wife."
I felt hot blood flash into my face. I said, "My sister."
"She gave a damn she was your sister, she'd call you sometimes. She doesn't want to talk to you. We don't want you around, Smith, not my family."
"Gary gave the cops my name last night," I said. "Not yours."
"Oh, man!" Scott exploded. "Oh, you cocksucker! You're fucked now, man. I'm telling you, you're fucked."
Three boys came around the building to the lot, pushing and shoving each other, laughing. I almost said something more to Scott, but I stopped myself, lowered the phone, thumbed it off. I forced my grip on it to loosen; I was surprised I hadn't broken it. I turned the ringer off, slipped the phone back in my pocket, left my brother-in-law in New York wanting me out of his town, his problem, his life.
I smoked another cigarette as I drove across town. I wanted another one after that, but I didn't light it. Screw Scott, screw his accusations, his threats and his anger. I parked in front of
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