As I neared him, he sucked air and shook his head as if to clear it and then fastened his numb eyes on my own.

Kevin tortures, a voice in my head whispered. He kills. He enjoys it. He’d give you no mercy. So you owe him none.

“Kevin,” I said and lowered myself until I was on one knee in front of him, “this is bad. You know this is bad. You don’t tell me what I need to know, Bubba will do the Spanish Inquisition on your head.”

“Fuck you.” His cracked voice broke through gritted teeth. “Fuck you, Kenzie. Okay?”

“No, Kev. No. You don’t help me out here, you’re going to be fucked up ten different ways. Fat Freddy gave me carte blanche with you. And Jack.”

The left half of his face sagged a bit.

“It’s true, Kev.”

“Bullshit.”

“You think we’d be here if it wasn’t? You let Vincent Patriso’s granddaughter get shot.”

“I didn’t—”

I shook my head. “That’s how he sees it. Doesn’t matter what you say now.”

His eyes were red and bulging as he shook his head and stared up at me.

“Kevin,” I said softly, “tell me what happened between EEPA and Hardiman and Rugglestone. Who’s the third guy?”

“Ask Jack.”

“I will,” I said. “But I’m asking you first.”

He nodded and the noose bit into his neck and his throat gurgled. I pulled the rope back out of the center of his Adam’s apple and he sighed, his eyes on the floor.

He shook his head adamantly and I knew he wouldn’t talk.

“Fore!” Bubba yelled.

Kevin’s eyes widened and his neck jerked back in the noose and I stepped out of the way as the bowling ball rocketed down the alley and seemed to pick up speed by the second as it hurtled across the splinters in the ancient floor and made contact with Kevin Hurlihy’s groin.

He howled and jerked forward against the noose and I yanked at his shoulders to keep his neck from snapping and tears streamed down his cheeks.

“Only a spare,” Bubba said.

“Hey, Bubba,” I said, “hold up.”

But Bubba was already into his windup. He crossed one leg in front of the other at the foul line and the ball left his hand and arced out by the target arrows, hit the alley with a hint of a backward spin and then streaked across the wood and shattered Kevin’s left knee.

“Jesus!” Kevin screamed and flipped to his right.

“Your turn, Jack.” Bubba picked up a ball and stepped into the next lane.

“I’ll die, Bubba.” Jack’s voice was soft and resigned and it stopped Bubba for a moment.

“Not if you talk, Jack,” I said.

He looked at me as if just noticing me. “You know what the diffeRenee between you and your old man is, Patrick?”

I shook my head.

“Your old man would be throwing those bowling balls himself. You, you’ll use what torture can get you, but you won’t do it yourself. You’re vomit.”