"Yes, son," the chink cop said. "I'm sorry, but we're going to have to ask you some questions."
"I don' know nothin'!" Teddy cried. He held his stomach. He felt like he was going to barf. "I didn't see nothin'. He was fine when I left him."
"When is the last time you saw him?" the man asked.
"At school," Teddy lied. He couldn't believe this. That little sissy Mark had killed Johnny? If he could kill Johnny, he could kill Teddy easy. But if the cops took Mark in he'd be safe. "Who killed him?" he cried. Maybe they already had Mark, then it would be safe to tell the truth.
"A criminal the papers and TV have been calling the Fry Guy." It was the woman who answered his question, and he really looked at her for the first time. He saw her hands and couldn't look away. He jumped and moved quickly away from her, still staring at her hands.
"I . . . I didn' see nothin'. I wish I did, but I didn' and now my best friend is dead." He looked the woman in the eyes. "Please, I don' know nothin'. Jus' leave me alone." He ran out of the room.
He hid in the hallway where he could hear, but couldn't be seen.
"I'm sorry," his mom said. "But they were very close. You must realize what a shock this has been for him."
"It's all right. I understand," the man said. "Doesn't look like Teddy can help us anyway. I'm very sorry about your son's friend. Thank you very much for your cooperation."
Teddy poked his head out as he heard the front door open. The woman turned quickly and stared right into his eyes. He couldn't look away. It was like when Child Molester Whitters looked at him when he was in trouble—only this was worse. His flesh crawled. He was glad when she turned around, and gladder still when the door closed behind her.
Teddy collapsed in a puddle on the floor, crying, and his mother came and held him. He had a good mother, the best mother; she would be ashamed if she knew the kind of things he had been doing. No more, he wasn't going to do anything bad anymore, because he didn't want to hurt his mother. Because if he did something bad,
they
would come and get him, and now they knew where he was.
"You're awfully quiet," Tommy said.
Spider heard it in his voice. He was mad. She could feel his anger and frustration. He blamed her.
"It's not my fault, Tommy."
"A kid is dead!" Tommy said. "A thirteen year old kid. Your precious avenger killed a kid."
"Hitler was a kid, Jim Jones, Jeffrey Dahlmer," Spider said. "Who knows what Johnny Pots might have become?"
"We'll never know because he's dead now!" Tommy shook his head. "He was a school yard bully. So what! Are you suggesting that we just go around and kill every school yard bully?"
"I'm suggesting that psychotic behaviors start in childhood. The Fry Guy knows who is truly evil. This child was evil, and he killed him," she said.
"How can you rationalize this?" Tommy said. "He blew that kid up all over the alley."
"Maybe it wasn't him," Spider said.
"You're saying there's more than one of them?" Tommy said.
Spider was silent.
"That's what you're saying, isn't it? We have a second killer."
Spider shrugged. "I don't know, maybe. I do know one thing. That kid was lying. He saw something, and he's too scared to say what."
"We should pump him, then. Break him down till he tells us what he knows," Tommy said.
Spider shook her head no. "Do that and I'm afraid we'll have more than one dead kid."
Mark snuggled into his bed, pulling his covers up over his head, hoping to keep everything out. It wasn't working, because he was the scariest thing he knew. He shouldn't have killed Johnny, shouldn't have blown him up.
He'd warned him, and Johnny just wouldn't listen. Wouldn't stop. He never did. He was mean to everyone, and he didn't think there was anything wrong with it. He had been dark and bad, and he deserved to die. Mark had to make himself believe that, or he was going to go crazy.
His mother came in flipping on the lights and he jerked violently. She sat down on the corner of his bed.
"Honey, are you all right?" she asked.
He uncovered his head slowly. "I'm scared," he said. "Real scared."
"It's OK, Honey, nothing like that's going to happen to you. You're a good kid, and this Fry Guy only kills bad people."
Mark nodded silently. He looked at his mother. He looked nothing like his mother or father, and nothing like his baby sister. They were all blonde, and he had black hair. They had brown eyes; his eyes were a weird, almost-blue color. They tanned, and he didn't. He knew he was adopted, but he didn't tell them that he knew.
When you were adopted that meant your real parents didn't want you, but that your adopted parents wanted you more than anything. He loved his mom and dad. He was glad that they pretended to be his real parents.
His mom hugged him then. "We wouldn't let anything happen to you," she said, rocking him back and forth. She kissed him on the top of his head and started to leave.
"Mom?"
She turned in the door. "Yes, Baby?"
"I am good, aren't I?"
She smiled at him. "Very good, now try to get some sleep." She turned out his light and left his door open.
"Is he all right?" he heard his dad ask his mom.
"He's scared. Can't say I blame him," she answered.
"I hate to say this, because I know he was just a kid, but the way he's been bullying Mark, hitting him. I figure he got what was coming to him," his father said.
"Jared! What a horrible thing to say!" Mom scolded him.
"Kid shouldn't have been in school with the other kids to begin with. He should have been in prison. I mean, just look at Mark's face."
"With this lunatic running around. Well, maybe I ought to have mother pick Mark up from school for awhile."
"That's not a bad Idea, although I don't think the Fry Guy would be interested in Mark. He's a good kid."
Mark smiled and snuggled into his bed. Mom and Dad thought he was good. Dad said Johnny Round House got what was coming to him, and everyone thought the Fry Guy killed him, so everything could get back to normal now. If he could just quit thinking about it.
The doorbell rang.
"I got it!" Carrie called out.
"Good. Freaking Tommy! I think he broke every bone in my body." Spider groaned from her chair. The workout had been rougher than usual. Probably because Tommy was holding her personally responsible for that kid getting blown all over the alleyway.
Carrie looked through the peephole. "Spider, some strange black man is standing on our porch holding a TV."
"Oh shit!" Spider jumped up and ran to the front door, temporarily forgetting how stiff and sore she was. She shoved Carrie aside, none to delicately, and looked through the peephole. "Ah shit! Ah shit!" She ran her hands down her face. The doorbell rang again. She opened the door and jerked Robby inside, TV and all. "What the hell are you doing?" She spat at him.
"Br . . . bringing your TV back. I fixed it."
"Mind telling me what the hell is going on?" Carrie asked.
"Ah . . . Robby had my TV," Spider said quickly. "He was fixing it." She quickly thought over what she had said and assessed the situation. "He's had the damned thing for months, and now he delivers it in the middle of the night."
"I'm . . . I'm really sorry."
"Sorry, I'll give you sorry!" Spider took the TV and set it down on a table in the hallway. "Come on outside and let's talk."
"What the hell is going on?" Carrie demanded.
"I can take care of this, Carrie."
Spider grabbed Robby by the arm and drug him outside. She closed the door behind her leaving Carrie in the house.
Spider jerked on Robby's arm and whispered. "What the hell were you thinking coming here, around Carrie? That's really stupid, Robby. Really, really stupid."
"I'm sorry, but I wanted to let you know that I didn't ice that kid. I didn't break our agreement. I wouldn't."
Spider sighed deeply. They had reached his truck, so she turned him loose and he turned to face her.
"I don't want Carrie put in the middle of this. I don't want her to become a target."
"I'm sorry. I thought if I brought the TV back that would be good cover."
Spider nodded. "It was. I'm just a little paranoid. Don't know why, but a simple thing like having a serial killer drop by the house in the middle of the night when I'm living with the DA and have the SWTF breathing down my neck makes me tense."
"I'm sorry," Robby said. "I didn't know what else to do. What do I do now?"
"We'll never get rid of the bastards if they find out there are two of you. Unless of course they know about this one." Spider was thoughtful. "Robby, you got a shopping list?"
Robby smiled then, his teeth shining in the moonlight. "Just say the word."
Carrie watched out the peephole. She couldn't see too well, but she could tell that they weren't fighting. She moved to a window and peered cautiously out. If Spider caught her spying on her, she'd have her hide.
They were having some sort of very serious conversation, and it lasted for almost thirty minutes. At one point they were even laughing. As the young man started to leave he reached out to grasp the car door handle, and it was then that Carrie noticed his hands. They were like Spider's.
Carrie moved quickly away from the window, sat down and picked up the paper pretending to read. What the hell did it mean? Who the hell was that man?
Spider came in and walked into the living room carrying the TV. "Young people these days have no work ethic."
Carrie planned to say nothing, to just pretend like she bought the whole little drama, but she had never been able to play stupid even when it was in her best interest to do so. Carrie put down the paper.
"Can the shit, Spider. I was watching you. All right, pitch a little bitch, I don't care. I saw you talking to him. You weren't mad, and neither was he. I also saw his hands. So you want to tell me what's going on?"
All right. Her first instincts had been correct; she should have kept her mouth shut. It was obvious even before Spider started screaming that she was pissed.
"Goddamn it, Carrie!" Spider screamed. "I'm trying to protect you and you just won't allow it. Don't get into this shit! I don't want you in it. It has nothing to do with you and I. It only has to do with me."
"If it involves you; it does involve me. Can't you see that? Now just tell me what the hell is going on."
"Just!" Spider threw her hands in the air. "I don't know what the hell is going on anymore. All I do know is that it's dangerous to know anything, and the last thing I want to do is put you in any danger.
Please
don't ask me to tell you.
Please
don't try to figure out what's going on. I'm only asking you to do one thing for me—stay the hell out of it. It's none of your business."
"I'm the DA. My office offers me some protection. I'm not afraid. Crime in this city is my business!" Carrie screamed back.
"Being DA will not protect you from these people, Carrie. The only thing that can protect you is total ignorance. So quit prying around." Spider stomped up stairs.
Carrie started to follow her, and Spider spun on her. "Can't you see? I love you, and I don't want you to get hurt."
Carrie started crying then. "And can't you see that I love you, and I don't want
you
to get hurt? Don't you think I have a right to know what's going on? If the tables were turned, would you want to be left out in the dark? Maybe I could help."
Spider walked back down the stairs and took Carrie into her arms. Carrie held her tightly.
Spider didn't let go of her. "When I was young, I had all these big dreams, goals. I was going to find true love, get everything I wanted, stop crime and cure cancer. Then one day realization slapped me in the face, and I knew that I already was where I was going. I gave up any dreams and desires I had and fell into a rhythm of complacency. I was never going to have more than I had right then, and I was all right with that. I wasn't happy, in fact I was miserable, but it was comfortable misery. Then right when I had given up my last shred of hope, I met you, and . . . everything changed. Suddenly I had everything I'd ever dreamt of. I just want to be here with you forever, but if you keep snooping around I'm going to have to leave. Because if you figure them out, they'll kill you."
Carrie moved her head to look up at Spider checking her face for any sign of insincerity. There was none. "You're serious?"
"Yes."
They found the first body at four in the morning, and by ten they'd found four more.