Page 137 of Hellbent

She bent her head, a sweep of hair hiding her eyes, and clicked furiously with a thumb.

“What the hell?” David said. “What are you doing?”

She kept on with her thumb.

David grew more uncomfortable. “I said, what are you doing with my picture?”

“‘My cousin’s best friend was kidnapped by the U.S. government,’” Joey read slowly. “‘Jesse Watson. Please retweet. Exclamation point.’” Now her eyes rose, and Evan was startled by how little they seemed to hold. “Twitter. Facebook. Instagram.”

A few chirps came from the phone, notifications pinging in.

Joey frowned down at the screen. “Looks like BritneyCheer28’s a popular girl. Lotta ‘friends.’”

She held up the phone. David’s face duplicated with each new post, a Warholian effect on the endlessly refreshing screen. The chirps quickened, reaching video-game intensity.

“You bitch.” David’s voice was so raw it came out as little more than a rasp.

“I don’t expect you to understand,” Joey said. “Maybe you’ll get it when you’re older.”

“You just took away any shot of me being anything.”

“No, you stupid little shit,” Joey said. “We saved you. We just gave you a normal life. Where you don’t have to spend all your time running away from … running away from yourself.” Her voice cracked, and beneath the vehemence there was something wistful, something like longing. She swallowed hard and turned away to stare at the rear of the liquor store.

“Go back to the McClair Center,” Evan said to David. “There’s a charge nurse who’ll be happy to see you.”

“Fuck McClair.” Tears streaked David’s red cheeks. “Fuck the charge nurse.”

“I’m going to give you my phone number in case you ever need my help.”

“I’m never gonna call you. I’m never gonna ask for your help. I never want to see you again.”

Evan took the first-aid kit out of the trunk and dropped it at David’s feet. Then he walked to the driver’s seat and got in.

Joey stayed in the alley, gazing at the cracked stucco wall, her arms folded. It took her a moment to start moving, but she did.

She climbed in, slammed the door louder than she needed to.

Evan said, “Look up the number of the McClair Children’s Mental Health Center and tell them you spotted him here. I already called. It should be a different voice.”

Joey said, “Gimme a moment.”

David didn’t move as Evan backed out. The side mirror passed within a foot of his shoulder. Evan hit a three-point in the cramped space and spun the steering wheel toward the open road.

They left him in the alley, staring at nothing.

58

An Ad for Domesticity

A few minutes past eight o’clock, the GPS dot finally stopped moving. In the passenger seat, Van Sciver pointed up a suburban street and said, “There.”

Thornhill steered the Chevy Tahoe into a hard left. Van Sciver held his phone up and watched the blipping dot, finally at fucking rest. Candy hunched forward from the backseat, bringing a faint hint of perfume.

“Two houses up?” she said.

The muscles of Van Sciver’s right eye ached from all the focus. He nodded. “Backyard.”

They slowed as they passed a white Colonial house that had recently undergone a Restoration Hardware facelift. A family of four ate at a long wooden farm table, displayed in the picture window like an ad for domesticity.