Hide and Seek

Upstairs, hiding in her father's closet, they found a man with ashirt

wrapped tight around a bleeding index finger. Or what was left of it.

I guess the dog had proven itself a good watchdog but a clumsy eater.

He'd taken the intruder's finger off at the knuckle and swallowed it

whole. And that was what was lodged there in his throat.

"I'm supposed to believe that?"

"Absolutely."

Two finger stories in one week, I thought.

"If you don't believe me, ask Casey. The girl used to babysit for her

brother."

"Her brother."

I guess I jumped on that one a little.

"Sure. You ... you knew about her brother, didn't you?"

"Yes and no."

She knew she'd made a mistake. I watched her get more and more

uncomfortable, trying to figure how to handle it. Finally she said,

"Well, you can ask Casey about Jean Drummond. She'll tell you."

"-r , I,

Talk to me about her brother, Kim.

She considered it. I had the feeling that there was something there

she thought I ought to know. I knew she liked me. I remembered her

warning about Casey over Cokes that day. Loyalties, though. They die

hard.

"I'd ... rather not. That's Casey's business."

"Not mine? Not even a little?"

"I didn't say that."

"So? Should I ask her about it, Kimberley?"

She paused. "Maybe you should. I don't know. It depends.

"On what?"

"On how well you need to know her, I guess."

"Suppose that's a lot?"

She sighed. "Then ask. Ask her for god's sake. Jesus! I can't hold

your goddamn hand for you."

She stood and walked away from me into the shallows. As far as I knew

it was the first time she'd gone into the water all summer. I called

out to her.

"You won't like it."