Free Scum by James Dekker Page B

of them pulled out a gun and shot Danny. He died on the way to the hospital. I’m sorry.”
    Tears run down my mother’s cheeks. But she’s used to being in charge anddealing with problems. She oversees fifteen stores with a total of two hundred full- and part-time staff. My father always says she’s the practical one, the level-headed one. So while the tears are running down her cheeks, she says, “Have you arrested whoever did this?”
    â€œNot yet, Mrs. Carter,” Detective Rossetti says.
    â€œBut you know who he is,” my mother says. “You must, if it happened in a bar.”
    â€œWe were hoping you might be able to help us with that,” Detective Rossetti says.
    My mother looks confused again. “I don’t understand,” she says. “You said he was in a bar.”
    My father has been out in the front hall the whole time, talking quietly to Detective French. But he hears the change in my mother’s voice. He stops talking and comes into the living room.
    â€œWasn’t there anyone else in that bar?” my mother says.
    Detective Rossetti glances at Detective French.
    â€œYes,” he says to my mother finally. “Yes, there were other people in the bar. But no one has been able to give us a description yet of the man who shot your son.”
    â€œBut someone must have seen something,” my mother says. “Someone will be able to describe the man who did this.”
    â€œWe hope so, Mrs. Carter,” Detective Rossetti says. “But in the meantime, did Danny say anything to you about any trouble he might have been having with anyone—a friend or an acquaintance?”
    My mother shakes her head. “Danny is still in school,” she says. “He has a part-time job at a music store. He’s doing well. He never said anything to me about any trouble.”
    I glance at my father, but he refuses to meet my eyes.
    â€œSomeone at that bar must have seen something,” my mother says again. Then she says, “I don’t understand. Why would anyone want to shoot Danny?”
    The two detectives tell my parents that they need someone to identify Danny. My father tells them he will do it, but my mother insists on going with him. She gets angry when he tries to get her to stay at home and let him take care of it. She says, “I want to see him. I want to see my baby.”
    My father asks me if I’ll be okay for a little while on my own. I tell him yes. I tell him Caitlin will be coming by soon and maybe she can skip school for a while and stay with me. My father says, “That’s a good idea.” But after my parents leave and I’m all alone in the house, I don’t want anyone there. I don’t answer the doorbell when it rings. I don’t answer the phone, either. I just sit there in the living room and look at the picture of Danny that’s on the mantel, and I think, Boy, now you’ve gone and done it.

Chapter Three
    It’s on the news that night—man shot dead in bar. The news story is maybe three sentences long. Danny was shot dead. His death is the twenty-third homicide in the city so far this year. The police are investigating.
    My parents don’t see the tv news. My mother is upstairs by the time it comes on. She has been up there for hours. At first, when she and my father got backfrom identifying Danny’s body, she stayed busy by making a list of all the people to call, what to do about the funeral arrangements, what to do about work. But a couple of hours later, she started to cry, and I don’t mean just tears. I mean weeping. Sobbing. Moaning. Howling. It got worse and worse. Louder and louder. Finally my father called Shannon’s father, who is a doctor, and he prescribed something to calm her down and help make her sleep. By the time the news comes on, my mother has been upstairs in her room for hours, and it’s quiet up there.
    My father is in the