Big smile. “Like a kid. So I was used to leading her into the bushes and keeping watch and that’s what I did out in the backyard and when we were heading back to the house, we heard voices over the wall—her brother’s voice, Garvey, whooping and laughing. Then the others. They were outside, too, going to the next-door property. I knew that because they’d taken me there, it was this huge place, acres, this estate, the owner was some rich European who was never there and most of the time the house was empty. They used to go there to party because no one would bother them. They had a way of getting in, this side gate, up toward the back with a bolt that was easy to wiggle loose and once you were back there you were so far from the house no one could spot you.”

“Party spot.”

“I partied with them, there,” he said. “Like I said, I was the candy man. Anyway, Aimee wanted to tag along and go over there, like she always did—anything those boys did, she thought was cool. No matter how they treated her, she’d want to be with them. I tried to talk her out of it, brought her back inside the party house and sat down and tried to groove on some music. ’Cause while Aimee was in the bushes, I’d shot up, was feeling mellow. But when I opened my eyes, she was gone, and I knew where she’d gone and I was responsible for her so I went after her. And found her. Looking. From behind some trees, into a clearing. She was shaking really bad, teeth chattering, and when I saw what she was looking at, I dug why.”

“How much time had passed since Coury had made a move for Janie?” I said.

“Hard to say. It felt like a long time, but I was going in and out—weaving, you know? Ever been on opiates?”

“When I was a kid I split myself open and they gave me Demerol to stitch me up.”

“Like it?”

“I liked it fine,” I said. “Everything slowed down and pain turned into a warm glow.”

“So you know.” He rolled his head. “It’s like the best kiss. The sweetest kiss, straight from God’s lips. All these years, even knowing what it did to my life, I still think about it . . . about the idea of doing it. And Lord help me, sometimes I pray that when I do die and if by some miracle I end up upstairs, there’ll be this big syringe waiting for me.”

“What was Aimee looking at?”