“It’s standard procedure, Mr. Huizenga,” Cody said patiently. “We’re very sorry for the Vanderheis’ loss. I’m sure they’d want us to do everything by the book.”

“Do you think Jim and Sue Vanderhei will take comfort in knowing their son died in this ungodly den of iniquity?” Mrs. Huizenga shouted at him, her chin quivering. “And your response was to harass his grieving friends? I want to file a complaint!”

“They ought to raze this place to the ground,” her husband muttered.

Did I mention that Appeldoorn is a highly conservative community that enjoys an extremely uneasy relationship with Pemkowet? Well, it is.

Unseen by the good Dutch folk, a hint of phosphorescent green flashed in Cody’s eyes. It gave me a private thrill to see him struggle with his temper, and, strangely, I found it calming. Perverse, but true.

“I’m so very sorry, Mrs. Huizenga,” I said in my most soothing voice. “If you’d like to file a complaint, I’d be happy to help you. I’m sure Chief Bryant would be glad to call you and discuss your concerns in person. But it’s late, and your son and his friend have had a terrible night. I can’t imagine how they’re feeling right now.” I gave them a sympathetic smile. “Maybe it would be best for everyone if you just went home and prayed on it.”

She hesitated.

“She has a point.” The husband put his arm around his wife’s shoulders. “Let’s get the boys home.”

The boys nodded with guilt-and-grief-stricken agreement.

It was a relief to see them go, although I had a bad feeling that we hadn’t heard the last from the parents.

Cody slumped back into his chair, heaving an exhausted sigh. “Go home and pray on it. That’s rich, coming from you.”

I perched on a corner of his desk. “You think I can’t talk the talk? You think the words are going to turn into poison in my mouth?”

There were tired shadows smudged under his eyes, and his bronze-colored hair had dried rumpled, reminding me of the boy on the bus he had once been. “Apparently not.”

I swung one leg. “I didn’t choose to be what I am any more than you did. It’s what we do with it that matters, right? That’s what my mom always said. Isn’t that why you stood up for me all those years ago?”

He shook his head. “I hate bullies.”

Oh.

“Is that why you became a cop?” I was still curious.

“In part.” Cody yawned. “Listen, I need you to pull some photos of those kids so I can ask around, see if their story checks out.”

“Do you think it will?”

“No. Do you?”

“No.” I shook my head. “I think they’re lying, but I don’t have the slightest idea why. Do you think they got in a fight or something?”