Free While the Savage Sleeps by Andrew E. Kaufman Page A

wasn’t high, just garden-variety crazy.”
    Cameron wasn’t sure if Frank meant it as a joke or an observation. “There was one thing unusual. Ben’s stomach—it was covered with ulcers.”
    He caught on right away. “That’s kinda strange. Kids ever get those?”
    “ Medical investigator says they can, but not the same way adults do. Usually it’s from a reaction to medications.”
    “ Medications? What kind?”
    “ Taking a lot of the over-the-counter anti-inflammatory drugs’ll do it.”
    “ So the kid maybe had, like, an Excedrin headache?”
    “ No, not exactly. He needed to be swallowing a helluva lot of ‘em over a long period of time to cause the kind of damage he had.”
    “ But we know that wasn’t the case, since the tox screen came up negative. Right?”
    “ Yes and no. The test is preliminary,” Cameron cautioned. “It only screens for the presence of alcohol or drugs, and only in a general sense. Takes longer for the specifics. But even so, if he took ‘em a long time ago, chances are they wouldn’t show up now, anyway.”
    Frank grunted his displeasure, thought for a few seconds. “M.E. got any theories about what else might’ve caused ‘em?”
    “ Threw out a few other scenarios. Seemed unlikely.”
    “ So, in a word, nothing.”
    “ No. Not right now, at least. He is checking on Ben’s medical history to see if he had some sort of preexisting condition. That might explain it.”
    “ Okay,” Frank said. “So we have a kid who wasn’t high, had no detectable illness other than stomach ulcers—which, by the way, we have no idea where they came from—who suddenly wakes up one night, and decides to off his entire family, then himself? I’m not buying it.” He shook his head, put on his glasses, scanned a few pages of the report. Then he looked back at Cameron over the tops of his lenses. “You knew this kid?”
    “ Thought I did …”
    “ How well?”
    “ Enough to know he wasn’t a killer.”
    Frank removed the glasses, gazed out his window. The bright sunlight made him squint. “Well, no disrespect to your judgment, but we’ve got three bodies lying across town in a morgue who’d like to tell you otherwise.”
    Frank was right. There was no denying that.
    “ What about at the house?” he asked. “Anything at all there to indicate why he might’ve done it?”
    Cameron threw up his hands. “If the kid was hiding a secret, he was doing a damn good job of it.”
    “ Okay, so tell me this: how do we get from point A to point C? Something’s missing here, and I don’t like it.”
    “ Not exactly thrilled about it myself, Frank. From all accounts, the kid was well-mannered and well-behaved. Never got into a lick of trouble in school or back at home, just like Churchill.”
    “ Just like Churchill …” Frank said, contemplating the similarities. “Same shit, different shovel, except, that’s really the only connection we have between the two, and it isn’t much of one. How about the family?”
    Cameron shrugged. “That’s where the similarities end. Ryan came from a broken home. His grandmother raised him.”
    “ Oh yeah? How’d that go?”
    “ Not very well. Had a chat with her, a real piece of work, Bobbi Kimmons is. Did her best, but kinda get the feeling she starved the kid where genuine affection was concerned.”
    “ And Ben’s family?”
    “ Complete opposite. About as normal and nice as they come. Spoke to them several times last summer during Little League.” He let out a humorless laugh. “Get this—they were actually concerned he wasn’t aggressive enough for contact sports, too shy, too reserved.”
    “ He obviously overcame that problem,” Frank said, “with flying colors.”
    Cameron shook his head. “I know one thing—from where I stand, the kid didn’t have it in him.”
    “ So then why’d he do it?”
    “ The answer’s out there somewhere, ” Cameron said, standing up. “I’m gonna go have a talk with his