Page 10 of Boy Blue
The current reward of one hundred thousand dollars, an amount that went up every year, was telling. The Sommervilles were desperate. Did they love their son? Or were they trying to avoid more scandal or a fight over the money? All that money. Next year, if their son didn’t come home, they’d likely be offering one hundred and twenty-five thousand.
I covered my mouth with my hand and rubbed at my jaw. If his parents really loved him, a million dollars should have been astarting point for that reward. It hadn’t been. That fact, and the fact that Blue had been sent to a reform school as punishment, told me that Blue must have left for a reason.
Outrage blossomed in my chest. Even if I could have used the money, the day the sun went nova was the day I’d hand Blue over.
When he got his memory back, Blue could make his own choices. But until then, what should I do?
I researched amnesia, blows to the head, head trauma, and memory loss. The internet, as usual, gave me too much information. My head ached as I scoured through it. But basically, it told me memory loss could happen through a blow to the head. It would likely come back on its own, barring real damage to the brain, and the person should not be prompted with hints.
Which left me with one answer. I needed to take care of Blue and help him on his way when the blizzard ended. I’d call him Blue and never let on what I knew about him. Unless he asked me. If he did that, I’d have to fess up. In the meantime?—
I stood up and stepped away from the computer, blinking against the dryness in my eyes. Going into the living room, I looked at him, sleeping in the warmth of the fire. His eyes closed, head tilted to one side. He seemed relaxed. Which was good. Sleep was healing.
The living room was a good room and, since the cabin had thick walls, it was cozy with the fire going in winter, deliciously cool in summer. I was lucky to find this place that no-one seemed to want. And Blue was lucky he’d fallen on my road, and not the road of some less scrupulous person.
Back at Reynoldsville State Prison, upriver from Cape Girardeau, where I’d grown up, the boys in the cells would have laughed their asses off to witness me being so honest. So upright. Souptight, they would have said.
But while I’d engaged in flimflam and blow job bidding wars and used cigarettes and ramen noodles as currency behind prison walls, I was not in prison now. I was free, and I could make decisions that suited me. And now that suited Blue.
Stepping closer, I reached out my hand to sweep the tangled hair from his face. His eyes opened, still sleepy. Still innocent to what a horrible family he had. Looking at me like I hung the moon.
“Wolfe?”
“Didn’t mean to wake you,” I said, pulling my hand back. “You had hair?—”
“Tell Nimble and Star,” Blue said. “Tell them I found a good place. That I’m safe now. That they could come if they want. You’d let them stay, right?”
Having no idea who Nimble and Star were, I nodded just the same. “Sure, Blue,” I said. “As soon as they can make it.”
Protectiveness swept over me, a blizzard inside the walls, inside of me. He was beaten up. A mess. And still he was thinking about these other people. His friends from the train, perhaps. A quiet heart, but a loyal one. His friends were lucky, and I hoped he could find them.
Outside the cabin walls, the train whistle rang through the icy blizzard. Two longs, one short, one long. Repeated as the train met the crossing on Diamond Willow Road. Which told me that it was 12:43 in the morning, later than I had realized.
I was my own boss and of course could get up in the morning whenever I wanted, but it was better to stick to a schedule and get things done. Otherwise, I’ll wander about the cabin and scroll the internet too much and look at the horizon and wonder why the hell I’d decided to come all this way, to the middle of nowhere—a pretty nowhere, to be honest—so far from my home.
No, wait. This was my home now. This cabin. The town of Hysham. I had everything I needed or wanted. And someone who needed my help.
CHAPTER 5
blue
When I woke up, it was dark. Outside, the blizzard howled like a wild thing, scraping against the windowpanes. The living room was warm, the fire low, gray and orange-pink coals.
Next to the fireplace, in the big leather chair, was Wolfe. I could see him in the firelight, his neck bent to one side on the headrest as he slept, a red wool blanket pulled over his lap.
I opened my mouth to ask where my bracelets were, my sneakers with the paint stains. But I couldn’t wake him. Instead of sleeping comfortably in his own bed, he’d chosen a chair in the living room. To make sure I didn’t steal or break anything? Or to keep watch over me like some dark-haired guardian?
Most probably it was the latter. He was there if I needed the bathroom. Or something to eat. Or anything. Which was kindness. Pure kindness.
At least I remembered I had bracelets and a pair of sneakers. That I’d been rescued and fed, given shelter. Beyond that slender collection of facts was a blank wall of sheer gray, cold to the touch.
A sense of aloneness swirled around me. The weight of that made me shift beneath the blanket and sheet. I wasn’t used to being alone. Not recently, anyway.
I remembered there’d been three of us, huddled together in a corner, like puppies in a pile. The room we were in moved back and forth, back and forth, swaying to each side, catching itself and then shifting the other way. It felt like being rocked to sleep. It had been nighttime. Dark. Everything smelled of coal.
One of us was talking. Another responded. I said something and felt a sense of agreement among us. About what I had no idea, but at least it was a memory, one I could keep.
Now wide awake, I sat up. I looked over at Wolfe, asleep in his leather chair, and saw that just beside the raised footrest was a shadow, a space big enough for a person to slide into. Grabbing the top blanket, I slithered to the floor and banged my ankle. Swallowed a hiss. And crawled across the living room to make myself a nest there.
