21.

Rudy Gomez rode his bike to Wendover Field and stopped, still straddling the bike. Other riders were milling around and with them he watched the long lines of spectators slowly processing through the police checkpoints as they exited the playing field. He looked at his digital watch: 10:31. Babysitting had earned him ten bucks per hour for four hours. He should have gone home but a momentary urge made him turn his bike around and return to the playing field. What he saw was magic, bigger than anything he'd ever seen.

Among the gawkers, there was a general buzz over all the police vans and vehicles. The students had never seen such a display of police effort in their near north side neighborhood. Not even when banks were robbed or gang bangers shot and killed each other. Not even when Amy died. This was different. This was something to write home about, as one senior high schooler put it.

Rudy was a senior. It gave him a thrill to see all the cops and techs and plainclothes detectives coming and going, radios squawking, sirens blasting on and off, and the omnipresent coffee cups from the Jungle Joe's coffee bar just up the street.

"Whatcha thinking about, Rudy?" asked Andy Voskuil, a senior boy wearing a letter jacket with a football logo over a baseball logo.

Rudy turned to see who was speaking to him. He wasn't accustomed to being included in casual talk with other students, as Rudy was a loner and was considered by his cla.s.smates as someone to avoid. Rudy was unable to answer.

"I-I-"

"Yeah, me too," said Voskuil. "Some freak killed Fran Arlington."

"Who got killed?" Rudy managed to say.

"Arlington. We were all in chemistry with her last year. She was gonna be a doctor."

"Oh, yeah," said Rudy. He had no desire to engage any further with Voskuil. He wouldn't even have come here at all except it gave him a thrill to visit where it had happened. Stupid f.u.c.king cops would have no clue where to start looking. And Rudy had made certain he was babysitting all night. With the Roth's nine-year-old twin boys. He'd gotten them involved in playing Warlord on the Playstation and had then let himself out the back door while no one was watching. The Roths only lived a block away from the football field, so the setup had been perfect.

Someone walked behind his bike and kicked his back tire. The bike skidded sideways and he was able to keep it upright only by using all his strength to push back against the skid. He turned and there stood Joe Jamison, the meathead, and Connie Ebersoll, the girl who was giving it up to him. Jamison-JJ-was leering at him, pleased with his rear a.s.sault on Rudy's bike.

"Hey, weirdo," said Jamison. "You're not the one did this, are you?"

"Yeah, I did it," said Rudy. "Not."

Several younger kids standing nearby at the bike stand heard this exchange and a look pa.s.sed among them. Rudy Gomez had just confessed to killing Franny Arlington.

"Like s.h.i.t," said Jamison. "My dad saw the cops come and take Jana away again. They threw his a.s.s in a police car and tore out with the lights flashing. Now maybe we can all sleep safely, thanks to our local police force."

"Jana?"

"Is that his name? Yeah. Mr. Potato Head from California."

"Your dad saw it?" asked Rudy.

"f.u.c.k, he's as f.u.c.king weird as you are, Rudy," Jamison swore at him.

"Hey," said Andy Voskuil. "Leave the weirdo alone, JJ. You know how he gets."

"You mean how he runs to the princ.i.p.al? Yeah, I remember."

"I was a freshman," Rudy mumbled. "Besides, my arm was broken."

"Yes, but that was your own fault for peeking in the girls' locker room."

"He's right, Rudy," Voskuil chimed in. "a.s.shat move, Rudy."

Rudy looked away. The cops were still swarming and the coffee cups were still coming and going. He decided he wasn't going to get to see much more, and he definitely was not enjoying talking to Andy and JJ, so he began backing his bike out of the cl.u.s.ter of students. He suddenly realized he had forgotten why he had even bothered to come here.

Then he remembered, and he felt that sweet ache swelling in his pants.

He wondered when the next home game would be played. He would definitely be babysitting again. Jana could definitely work with that.

Just as he got his bike backed up and started to spin it around, JJ Jamison kicked at him and knocked him sideways on the asphalt. He lost his balance, fell with one leg over the bike, and received a blow to his groin from the force of the falling bike. Pain shot up his abdomen and he heard Andy Voskuil yelp at JJ that that had been a stupid and unnecessary thing to do. Rudy laid on his side a minute or more and then slowly began disengaging from the bicycle. He got out from under it and came up on his knees. His b.a.l.l.s were aching and his b.o.n.e.r was gone. It was all he could do not to throw up. Then he staggered to his feet and found himself looking straight into the eyes of JJ's girlfriend, Connie Ebersoll. She was grinning. She raised her right hand and pointed at him. "You aren't gonna be spanking that monkey for a few days," she said, and tossed her head back and laughed.

JJ reached behind her and squeezed a handful of a.s.s, which did not go unnoticed by Rudy.

So. That's how it's done when they belong to you.

You just grab them and feel them.

He memorized the look of hysterical joy on Connie's pretty, cheerleader face. He would definitely be seeing her again.

Everyone loved the cheerleaders and Rudy was no exception.

Rudy backed his bicycle completely around and found himself staring into headlights on bright. He shaded his eyes.

Then his heart jumped into his throat.

THEY HIT their red-and-blue lights and Rudy froze. He heard the car being shifted into park and he watched the two large men get out. One was enormous, black, and reaching inside his coat.

"Rudy? We'd like to talk to you."

"Why me?"

"We've got someone in our car who says they saw you."

Just then the cops showed their badges and Rudy's heart skipped a beat.

Rudy shaded his eyes and tried to see inside the cop car. But he couldn't. The headlights-purposely on bright-left him blinded and unable to look inside. So he stood, straddling his bike, remembering his story.

"Were you at the game tonight?" said the giant cop.

"No."

"Where were you tonight?"

"I was babysitting."

"Where was that?"

"With the Roth twins. Simon and Samuel."

"Where do they live?"

Rudy pointed. "About a block that way. I can take you there."

"How old are the twins?"

"Nine."

"You sure you weren't here earlier tonight? Even for just a few minutes?"

Rudy held up both hands. "Sorry, I don't know who you want, but I wasn't here. Swear to G.o.d."

"We have someone in the car says you were here. Says you were seen coming past the ticket booth. You deny that?"

"h.e.l.l yes, I deny that. That's a flat out lie!"

"Can you prove you weren't here?"

"Can you prove I was? I'm innocent until proven guilty."

The cops exchanged a look.

"Maybe. Maybe not."

At just that moment, Marcel's truck pulled in behind the cop car. He had come from the jail and was trying to track down Jana. Marcel climbed out and walked up to the cop car. Sure enough, there in the backseat sat Jana, looking to all the world like some orphan whose parents had disappeared. Small, withdrawn, and hunched down, he was peering over the front seats, watching the confrontation between the cops and Rudy. Marcel tapped on the window. Jana looked over and his face lit up.

"Can you hear me?" Marcel shouted at the window.

"Yes!"

"I'm here to take you home!"

"I'm ready!"

"I'll talk to the officers!"

Marcel approached the detectives and cleared his throat. Valencia turned to talk to him.

"I'm Marcel Rainford. I'm Michael Gresham's a.s.sistant and investigator. Jana rode with me to the game tonight and I'm here to take him home."

"One second," said Valencia. "I need to ask him something."

The two men returned to the rear of the car and Valencia unlocked the rear door. Jana climbed out and stood there stretching.

"Oh," he said. "Free at last."

"Have you gotten a good look at the kid?" Valencia asked, indicating Rudy.

"Yes. That's the guy I saw."

"You're sure of that?"

"Positive. Same guy exactly."

"Okay. You can leave with your dad's investigator. And thanks for helping us out tonight."

"Did I have a choice? You people arrested me."

"We are looking for a killer. It wouldn't be unusual to take in a suspect on a previous case for questioning. Please understand where we're coming from."

Marcel said, "Has it occurred to you yet that your Rudy guy just might also be the same guy who killed Amy Tanenbaum? Has it occurred to you that Jana just ain't your guy?"

"We'll talk about that, sir. Detective Ngo and I have a lot of questions to work through."

"What about the kid?" Marcel said, indicating Rudy. "Has he admitted anything yet?"

"Not yet. He's denying even being here."

"Well he was here," Jana said. "I can prove it."

"How can you prove it?" the detective asked.

Jana pulled his cell phone from his pocket. He stabbed it on and held the screen up for Valencia. He was showing him a picture, a snap of Rudy Gomez exiting the football field on the same date at 8:34 p.m.

"You've got to be kidding me," said Valencia. "Why in the world would you have that?"

Jana gave him a blank look. Because I don't want to go down for something Rudy did, he thought. It's my evidence against Rudy.

"It was one of the guys I saw headed for the restrooms when Franny was walking over there. I was suspicious when he was leaving here ten minutes later."

"Did he see you take his picture?"

"I doubt it. But I didn't care if he saw me or not. I'm twice his size."

"Email it to me, please," Valencia said, and he gave Jana his email. The transfer was made. Valencia took his own smartphone and the picture and headed for Rudy and Detective Ngo. The dynamic was about to change.

Marcel loaded Jana into his truck and they left without another word to the cops.

Valencia jammed the smartphone into the kid's face.