“I remember when the real case hit the papers,” he said. “Francine Hughes murdered her husband by burning him to death after putting up with years of physical abuse.”

“Are you insinuating anything?” Pode croaked out.

“Nah,” he said, dismissing the thought as absurd. “Want to know what I found out about you?”

“I’m not particularly interested in what you found out,” Dustin said. He had interlaced his fingers, but the hands were still shaking.

“I looked at your medical records and found out you were an abused kid,” Decker said. “Damn shame no one reported it back then. Your mother used to get drunk a lot and whop the shit out of you. You want to know what else I found out?”

Dustin didn’t respond.

“Earl was an abused child also. But when he reached five, something amazing happened. His pediatric records stopped showing signs of physical abuse. Now yours were full of them clear up through your teens.”

Pode began to breathe heavily.

“Now this is just speculation—”

“I’m not interested,” uttered Pode weakly. But Decker went on.

“When Earl was seven, he was hauled into the doctor for treatment of burns on his hands. At first I thought this was abuse also, but then I started thinking. Burns for abuse are usually on places where people don’t see them—the back, the stomach, the butt. Burns on the hand indicate a kid playing with fire.

“See, that’s why I asked you about the bed-wetting. Fire-starting and bed-wetting, along with cruelty to animals, are a triad you find in a lot of psychopathic teenagers. I’m wondering if Earl ever tortured anything living—like bugs or pets…or people?”

Pode refused to answer. Decker began to circle him—a vulture ready to swoop.

“Let’s get a little more hypothetical,” he said. “For some reason Earl stopped getting beat up by your mother. Now I, being a curious kind of guy, think to myself, why? Maybe Earl was a weird kid who played with fire to scare Mama off, huh? What do you think about that?”

“You have a vivid imagination.”

“Earl started setting fire to Mama’s bed as she slept off her stupors. And she was a bright lady who got the message real fast. Of course she never told anyone that sonny boy was trying to burn her. Then she’d have had to admit what she was doing to you both. So she just covered her ass and said she fell asleep while smoking. And besides, she knew you’d rescue her. You were the good boy—”

“Lies—”

“Mama knew the score,” Decker said, talking over him. “Kicking the shit out of Earl just wasn’t worth getting barbecued for. Besides, there was always little old Dustin to kick around. She began laying off Earl. But that just made it worse for you, didn’t it, Dustin?”

“Filthy lies!”