“Say, Bill,” Karl said, approaching him. “Anyone you know need kidneys?”
“No.”
Karl met his eyes. “You sure?”
“Am I sure?” Werner scoffed. “Yeah, I’m sure.”
Karl held his stare.
“What?” Werner said. “You saying I had something to do with this?”
Karl shrugged. “Only asked if you knew someone who needed kidneys.”
“Do you, Bill?” Candace asked, tossing a shovelful. Her eyes darted from one Werner to the other. “What about you, Rosita?”
“Wait, so that’s why we’re here?” Rosita asked, offended. “You think we’d stoop that low?”
“Your husband has before,” Candace said, drawing near. “Let’s not forget the time he lost his temper with you. Then you had no choice but to join the Traders.”
“That was different!” Rosita snapped.
Karl furrowed his brow. This was news to him. When Rosita joined, he assumed it was an unfortunate health issue. But if Bill had harmed her, why should he hesitate to harm an old man? Especially if he needed the man’s kidneys.
“Lost your temper, huh?” Karl said. “What happened?”
“Stay outta this, Karl!” Werner slapped his spade down. “We didn’t touch Mac. Stop trying to pin it on us.”
“I’ve had enough,” Rosita said. “Bill, we’re leaving.”
“Stay put,” Karl said, dropping his hand to his gun. “Until we get our facts straight.”
“We didn’t take him!” Werner said. “Fact!”
“Settle down,” Candace said. “We need to make sure you’re not a threat to the group.”
“A threat?” Werner said, his face turning sriracha-sauce red. “I’m not out to get nobody. You want to see a threat, look no further than this goon.” He poked a finger at Karl. “Earlier I caught him chit-chatting with Donnie Adler, of all people.”
Karl’s stomach flipped. He was supposed to be exposing the Werners, not the other way around. He racked his brain, desperate to change the subject.
“Donnie Adler?” Candace said, turning to Karl. “Isn’t he the one who got trashed one night and cooked his face in a firepit?”
Karl stood numb. Candace was too sharp not to connect Snare’s offer to Adler’s ruined flesh. “Yeah, that’s him.”
“Why were you talking to him?”
“Parking ticket,” he said, mouth dry.
“You wrote him a ticket?”
“Nope. Let him off easy.” He drove his shovel down. “Holiday spirit, y’know?”
“Thought the borough needed those fees,” Werner said.
“That’s right,” Karl said. “But Alder’s had it rough.”
Candace cleared her throat. “You mean with his burnt skin?”
“That,” Karl said, choosing his words carefully, “and at home. Said the wife’s been giving him a hard time. Been there myself, so I gave him a pass.”
“A pass,” Candace said. “Did you give him anything else?”
“Anything else?” Karl sensed the forest closing around him like a big green fist. He wanted to run but couldn’t. Not without looking guilty. If Candace decided he had attempted to recruit Adler for a trade, she could accuse him of betraying the group. The punishment for that would put him out of the picture till after Snare’s deadline. Possibly longer. “No, nothing else.”
“You sure? No neighborly advice?”
“No.” His voice sounded small. “Nothing.”
Candace frowned. Her silence left his ears thirsty. He’d rather she yell at him, call him a liar, or even threaten something awful. Silence was worse. It stirred with possibilities. Ugly ones.
The moment passed and they resumed shoveling. At one point, Karl noticed Mac’s body bag under the nearby pine.
With the way Candace kept looking at him, he wondered if he’d be joining his old friend.
25
When Ash finally returned home, Trent’s car was back in its spot. Just the guy she needed to speak with. She marched up the sidewalk, gripping one six-pack and hugging the other against her side. She elbowed the doorbell twice before hearing the slap of feet inside. The door opened. She expected Trent but instead got the kid. At his side he held a baseball bat, its scuffed tip touching the floor. The bat served as his cane, it seemed, which was both cute and heartbreaking.
“Who’s there?” he asked, turning his ear.
“Me. Your…dad’s sister.” She almost said aunt but didn’t. Too weird. Plus, the title reeked of responsibility, like she’d have to send him money on his birthday. She stepped in, her nose catching the smell of chopped onions. “Your dad around?”
“Yeah.” The kid didn’t sound enthused. He faced her now, and she noticed the glossy pink scars around his sunglasses. She hated to think what had done such damage. The kid must’ve sensed her staring, because he turned away and guided himself toward the kitchen doorway, bat scraping the floor.
“That bat seems handy,” she said. She didn’t know what else to say. Normally she didn’t talk to kids, unless you counted Cheeto. “You big into baseball?”
“Yeah.” He turned his head. His lips trembled. “I was real good.”
Something broke inside her. She didn’t know a damn thing about this kid, but she could tell from his tone that baseball meant everything to him. She knew the feeling. Knew it too well. Since losing her hand, she’d felt isolated. Trapped within a body that couldn’t chase her desires. It wasn’t just her hand that was crushed under her Gibson but her true self. And, like her, this kid had lost more than a body part. More than sight. He’d lost the person he wanted to become.
“How good?” she asked, balancing a six-pack against her ribs. The bottles jingled. “Win any awards?”
“I made the all-star team.” The kid perked up, his shoes squeaking on the tiles. “I had more hits than anyone on my regular-season team. Like a lot more. We only won six games, but without me we might not have won any.”
“Wow, that’s amazing.” She smiled for the first time in what felt like forever. “Sounds like you were their MVP.”
“I was real good at batting, but not at outfield. Still, one time I dove in front of a grounder and stopped it with my belly. That saved two runs. You should’ve seen me!”
Ash laughed. He reminded her of herself after a big show. Post-game pride apparently ran strong in the Hudson family.
Down the hall a toilet flushed. Trent rounded the corner, stumbling like a three-legged giraffe. The moment he saw her and the kid laughing together, his teeth clamped shut in disgust. “Ash, get away from him.”
“What? Why?” she asked. “Relax, I just asked him about baseball. He was telling me about making the all-star team.”
“He—wait, he talked to you?” Trent gawked. “Jake, she’s the one who wrecked my leg!”
Jake only shrugged, and Trent winced as if he’d been jabbed in the nuts. When he regained his composure, he banged his cane like a judge’s gavel. “Get over here, Jake.”