Billy's Bones (27 page)

His father picked the knife up off the floor and held it in his hand uncertainly. When he glanced up at Kevin, the boy thought he saw something in his eyes—something that looked like fear. But the man quickly turned away, closing the knife and tucking it into his coat pocket. “We have to keep this secret. You understand that, don’t you? We have to stick together.”

Kevin didn’t know what to say, so he just nodded mutely.

“Stay here for a minute. I’ll be right back. You should get dressed.”

Mr. Derocher left him alone with Billy’s body as he stepped out into the storm. Kevin dressed slowly, dazedly, unable to think beyond separating his clothing from Billy’s and wedging feet into socks, first the right and then the left…. All the while, the radio droned on and the rain battered the tin roof of the shed. Kevin wanted to turn the radio off, but he was afraid to be alone with Billy and no sound but the rain.

He kept watching the body out of the corner of his eye, as if afraid it would get up and attack him. It no longer felt like Billy to him. It was something cold and alien, something that terrified him and made his stomach churn with nausea. When Kevin finished dressing, he huddled in the corner, staring at the corpse, and whispered, “I’m sorry… I’m sorry….”

Billy’s eyes stared back at him, blank and cold.

Kevin heard a car driving up to the shed and panicked for a moment. What if his mother had come home early? But he knew there was no reason she would ever drive her car across her immaculate lawn. After the sound of the car door opening and slamming, the door to the shed opened, and Mr. Derocher slipped back inside, water dripping from his coat and hat.

He hesitated a moment as his eyes once more fell upon Billy, and then he said, “Go keep an eye out. When I ask you if it’s clear, you make sure there’s
nothing
. Understand? No cars coming, nobody walking by,
nothing
!”

Kevin did as he was told, standing in the pouring rain, watching the road fearfully until the light went out inside the shed and his father cracked the door open. “Is it clear?”

“Yes,” Kevin said, having trouble talking above a whisper. But it was loud enough for his father to hear.

It was past sunset by now, and the storm blotted out the moon. The only light came from the front door of the house and the light over the garage, but neither illuminated the backyard. Mr. Derocher carried Billy’s body out, fully dressed, and tossed it into the truck. The sound of the trunk hatch slamming closed made Kevin flinch. Motioning for Kevin to get into the passenger seat of the car, Mr. Derocher jumped into the driver’s seat.

Kevin was soaked through and shivering as his father drove to the driveway and then pulled out into the road in front of the house.

His father was gripping the wheel hard enough to turn his knuckles white, and his eyes flitted around as if he were watching for someone—perhaps the police—to chase him. When he spoke, his voice was agitated and clipped. “You’ve got to understand, Kevin. We’ve committed a murder. It was an accident, of course. If Billy hadn’t… well, he shouldn’t have gotten hurt. You always have fun, right?”

Kevin couldn’t bring himself to answer that question. Fortunately, his father didn’t wait for him to respond.

“It wasn’t our fault, but nobody will believe that. It just… looks bad. So we’ve got to hide him somewhere where nobody will ever find him.”

T
HEY
drove for a while—how long, Kevin didn’t really know or care—until they were bumping along a dirt road deep in the forest. He’d been vaguely aware the road skirted a lake and they’d passed several small lake cabins, but his brain had shut down. He’d cried himself dry and now he just felt numb all over. He barely noticed when his father pulled into a long driveway and stopped by a small cabin that had been boarded up for the winter.

“Come on,” his father commanded, climbing out of the car.

Kevin followed him out into the rain and went around to the back of the car, where his father was opening the trunk. The sight of Billy’s body sprawled on top of the spare tire chilled him yet again. His father reached in and hoisted the corpse up by the armpits, muttering, “Get his feet.”

But Kevin couldn’t bring himself to touch the body. He backed away in horror, his teeth chattering from fear and the cold as he hugged himself.

“I said ‘get his feet’!”

Kevin looked at his father blankly until the man gave up in disgust. “Jesus Christ!” He scooped Billy up, cradling him against his chest with one arm under the boy’s knees. “Close the trunk, you goddamned little pussy!”

Kevin flinched at the insult. His father rarely raised his voice or swore.

Kevin closed the trunk, the sound of it disturbingly loud against the background hiss of the rain. He couldn’t resist a look at the cabin, but of course nobody was there. Reluctantly, Kevin followed his father into the forest.

They didn’t go far, though without a flashlight Kevin was terrified they’d get lost. His father seemed to know where he was going, pausing only a couple times to check his bearings.

They came to a stop at a patch of brambles and witch hazel. Mr. Derocher set Billy down on the ground and shoved the brush aside, swearing as the brambles snagged his coat and scratched his hands. In the midst of all of it was a massive cement tube—just the end of it, rising up out of the forest floor. It was covered by a heavy wooden lid with iron handles bolted onto it.

“This well dried up a long time ago,” Kevin’s father said as he heaved the lid off it. “They had to have a new one dug.”

In the dark night, Kevin couldn’t see more than a few feet down into the black hole his father had opened. Mr. Derocher lifted Billy up again and held him for a moment, cradling him almost tenderly. Kevin couldn’t believe how tiny and helpless that body looked now. Not at all the strong boy he’d admired so much.

Mr. Derocher sighed. “Sorry, kid.” Then he dropped the tiny body into the dark pit. It must have bounced against the cement wall on the way down, judging from the dull thuds Kevin heard. Then once more there was nothing but the sound of rain and wind.

Kevin wanted to get as far away from this place as he could, but when he stepped away from the well, he saw his father frantically checking his coat pockets.

“Shit! What happened to the fucking knife?” Suddenly, he grabbed Kevin and pulled him close. “Give it to me!”

“What?”

His father angrily thrust his hands into all of Kevin’s pockets, searching him. “What have you done with it, you little fuck?”

Kevin had thought he was beyond fear, but he screamed in newfound terror when his father spun him around and shoved him hard against the cement well, and then held his head down over the black pit. “You tell me where the knife is, or I swear I’ll throw you in there with him!”

“No, Daddy!” Kevin sobbed. “I don’t have it!”

“I don’t believe you! You think I didn’t notice you sneaking up on me to stab me with it, you traitorous whore? I thought you were innocent! I thought you loved me! But now I find out you’re slutting around with other boys and planning on killing me!”

“No! Daddy, please!”

Mr. Derocher gave a roar of disgust, and Kevin screamed as he felt himself yanked backward. But his father didn’t throw him into the well. He just threw him down onto the muddy leaves of the forest floor. Kevin sat there crying while the man turned his attention to putting the cover back on the well.

When his father stalked back to the car, not even checking to see if his son was following him, Kevin thought about running into the forest. Maybe he could find somebody’s house, somebody who would take him in. But they’d ask who his parents were. Even if he didn’t tell them, they’d just call the police and they’d recognize him—his father was well known in the area. Would they believe him if he told them his father was a murderer? He doubted it. And then the next time his father got him alone….

Shaking with fear but knowing he had nowhere else to go, Kevin stood and slowly followed his father through the pouring rain back to the car.

Twenty-Five

Berlin, New Hampshire—The Present

K
EVIN
was huddled on the floor in the corner of the room, wedged between the couch and the wall. He hadn’t been coherent enough to tell Tom and Sue what he was experiencing, but the fragments of dialogue he’d murmured or shouted out had given them a fairly good idea.

Tom was sitting cross-legged on the floor in front of his lover, watching him anxiously. He was so sick with what he’d overheard that he felt like throwing up. How could any man do those things to little kids? Tom had thought molesting Kevin was evil enough, but this….

“I’m so tired,” Kevin murmured, and it was a moment before Tom realized Kevin was talking to him. Or at least he was talking to both him and Sue—he was back in the present.

Tom heard Sue moving behind him, picking up her empty coffee cup from the table and standing up. She’d turned the song off the moment Kevin appeared to be losing control, and now the room was so quiet, Tom could hear every little rustle of clothing.

“You can go to sleep if you want,” he said softly.

Kevin wasn’t looking at him, and Tom wasn’t even sure if he could hear him. He just stared into space, his expression as blank as a mannequin. When he spoke again, he sounded completely emotionless, almost robotic. “I should have killed him. I was too weak.”

“No,” Tom said, his voice breaking on the word.

He lifted a hand as if to touch Kevin, but Sue said quietly, “Don’t touch him.”

Tom turned to her and saw she was pouring herself a cup of coffee, her shaking hands belying her professional detachment. “In this state, he’s liable to interpret any touch as coming from his father,” she added.

Tom knew that, at least intellectually. He’d been researching flashbacks ever since that day at Kevin’s old house. But it was hard to watch Kevin going through it without reaching out to him.

He turned back to Kevin and said, “You were eleven years old. And you’re not capable of killing anyone. That’s a good thing.”

Again he wasn’t sure if Kevin really heard him or not. There was a long silence while Sue approached and kneeled quietly on the carpeted floor beside Tom. Then Kevin said, “How could I forget all of this?”

It was Sue who answered in the gentlest tone Tom had ever heard her use. “Oh, sweetheart, how could you
remember
it?”

I
T
WAS
a challenge to get Kevin into the car and home because he moved so incredibly slowly and didn’t respond well to direction, but eventually Tom got him into bed. He slept the rest of the day away, with Shadow curled up protectively on the bed beside him.

Tom knew they would have to notify the police, but the crime was twenty-five years old, and one more day wouldn’t make any difference. So he allowed Kevin time to recuperate. When night came, Tom climbed into the bed, forcing Shadow to relocate to his dog bed against the wall.

The clock read just past two when he woke to the sounds of sniffling. He was lying on his side facing Kevin, and Kevin had curled up against him so his hair was tickling Tom’s chin and his face was nestled against Tom’s collarbone. His breathing was labored, and Tom could feel dampness on his skin where Kevin’s eyes touched him.

He whispered, “Are you awake?”

“Yeah.” Kevin’s voice quavered like a frightened child.

Tom rolled slightly away from him to reach for the bed lamp, but Kevin grabbed him and pulled him close again. “Don’t turn on the light.”

“Are you all right?” Stupid question. Of course he wasn’t “all right.”

There was a long silence before Kevin asked in a small voice, “Can you hold me?”

Tom brought his arm up to cradle him, caressing the back of Kevin’s neck and stroking his soft hair. “You know I love you, right? Nothing will ever change that.”

The only response was a tightening of Kevin’s arms around his middle. He became aware of Kevin’s erection pressing tightly into his thigh and his own body responded to it, but he knew Kevin didn’t want sex. Tom simply held him until the tears subsided, and Kevin eventually drifted off to sleep.

Twenty-Six