Free Gun Games by Faye Kellerman Page A

a wide-eyed look. “If he did, he never showed anything to me.”
    “How do you think Greg might have reacted if he got caught doing something like that?”
    “Well, for starts, the school would have kicked him out.”
    Decker nodded, thinking: What would have happened if a quiet, bookish kid had been caught secretly filming a popular girl in the nude? What kind of number could she have done on him: embarrassed him, humiliated him, blackmailed him, or worst of all, threatened to go to the principal? And if the kid would have been faced with torment and expulsion . . . who knew what he might have done.
    Joey’s mind was still on the question. “I think he would have showed me something like that. Not that it’s nice, but it’s the way dudes are.”
    “Did you ever see what was on Gregory’s camera?”
    “Sometimes he’d show us a playback, but I don’t have any idea of the totality.”
    “Does his mother have the video camera?”
    “I would think so.”
    “Okay, Joey. This gives me a little bit of a start.”
    The boy nodded. “Can I ask you a question?”
    “Sure.”
    “Why are you doing this?” Joey looked pained. “I mean if Greg was doing something bad, why dig it up?”
    “That is a very good point. Originally, his mom asked me to help her understand her son’s motives for doing something so terrible. But if it is something distasteful, I’m going to be doing some serious editing.”
    “Yeah, I think that would be a good idea. Not that I think he was doing something bad.”
    Decker regarded the kid’s face. He looked sincere. “Do you think your pals would mind if I talked to them?”
    “Nah, they wouldn’t mind. I don’t know what they’d tell you. I probably knew Greg better than any of them.”
    Decker gave him a pad of paper and a pen. “Could you write down names and phone numbers for me?”
    “Sure.”
    While he was writing, Decker was figuring out his next move. Get the camera, get the kid’s computer, and look around the room. Joey was right about one thing. How much did Wendy Hesse want to know? After Joey handed him back the pad, Decker said, “I do have one other important question. Do you have any idea where Greg could have gotten hold of a gun?”
    “Not that specific gun, no.” Joey exhaled. “But I can tell you this much. It isn’t hard to get weapons at B and W. You can get guns, you can get booze, you can get dope, you can get porn, and you can get good grades and test scores.”
    “That easy, huh?” Decker said.
    “That easy,” Joey answered. “All you have to do is pay for it.”

Chapter Eight
    D uring the final duet—“Gran Dio, morir si giovane”—Gabe’s eyes wandered to Yasmine, whose face was buried in her hands. Her eyes were visible through splayed fingers, tears streaming down. The entire time he had been concentrating on pitch, voice timbre, sound mixture, and volume. But the little girl next to him was sobbing because Violetta was about to succumb to tuberculosis.
    So who was really getting the most out of the afternoon?
    As she blinked, a new batch of tears poured out of her eyes. In a protective motion, Gabe put his arm around her shoulder and she simply melted, fat saline drops soaking his shirt. When Violetta finally died and the curtain came down, she sat up, took a tissue from her bag, and wiped her face. Curtain calls took another five minutes, and then the house lights went up.
    It was five-thirty by the time they actually made it out of the building. The sky held the afterglow of a dazzling sunset—pinks, oranges, and purples. The ground was wet, and the air was chilly.
    Yasmine hugged her body. Her voice was still shaky. “How do we get a taxi?”
    “We don’t.” Gabe checked his watch. “By the time we call it in and the guy gets here, it’s easier to take the bus.”
    “How long will it take to get home?”
    “About an hour plus.”
    “I told my mom I’d be home by six.”
    “That’s not going to happen even with a cab.