Billy Read Online Free PDF Page A

lingering in the mall, he had returned to his van yet again. He gripped the steering wheel, staring into the void of the parking lot. Stevensville might be a small town, but Crossland Mall was huge, designed to serve this whole part of the state. What was he going to do?
    He'd definitely been noticed again.
    Then a miracle had occurred. God must love him: he saw his boy coming out of the mall by himself. Barton was so excited he couldn't get his engine going. As he sat furiously grinding the starter the child moved toward the bike rack.
    Barton's thoughts had flashed back to the first time he had seen Jack, on an October afternoon. Yellow leaves had been running in the streets and skywriters scrolling an enormous Pepsi ad across the blue of heaven. That had been at the Mill Run Mall in Tappan, California.
    The engine ground to life, and for the first time Barton thought he might get this child.
    The boy finished unlocking his aged bike and started for the exit. Despite the risk of losing him, Barton waited a full thirty seconds before following. He had to submit himself to the discipline of the quest. You had to know how to breathe, how to move, how to empty your mind and concentrate with total attention. Finally he started off, moving with the gliding slowness that most drivers adopt in mall parking lots. He wanted to jam the gas pedal to the floor.
    By the time he caught sight of the boy again he was already turning onto crowded Lincoln Avenue. Accelerating smoothly as he slipped into traffic, Barton cruised past the child. He kept him in sight with the special wide-angle rearview mirror he'd bought for just this sort of maneuver.
    He'd bought it when he was following Timmy. The technique was to get ahead and let the child catch up.
    Poor Timmy. He had been—
    'Not now, Barton.' He was on the hunt. It wasn't time for memories. He coached himself: breathe in, breathe out. "Control your breath and you control your soul," said those who were spiritually aware.
    The boy rode into the Burger King parking area. Quickly  maneuvering the van, Barton cut into the far end of the lot. As he wheeled around he expected to see the bike cross right in front of him, but there wasn't a sign of the boy or his bike.
    Barton looked out toward the street just in time to see the Schwinn disappear beyond some parked cars. As fast as he dared he left the lot. The boy was far down the street, pedaling hard. What did this mean? Surely the child hadn't seen him. Of course not. Boys changed their minds in an instant. Very well. He would keep his eyes on the bike. It was at least a quarter of a mile away—and just then it had turned a corner. To keep the boy in sight Barton had to gun his motor. So much for caution. He covered the distance to the side street in a few seconds.
    Hicks Street. He looked down its tree-lined expanse. No bike. Damn. The boy must live in one of these houses. Unless— it was also possible that he had made the next corner and turned again. Barton moved to the end of the block. There he was, just disappearing up a driveway. In a moment Barton was cruising past 630 Oak. He had him. The boy walked his bike into the garage and dropped it onto an equally aged girl's bike. The child knew this place well. Barton was virtually certain that the boy lived here.
    Next Barton checked the property for signs of a dog. What he glimpsed of the backyard revealed that it wasn't enclosed. There was no doghouse. He spotted no telltale heaps of dog feces, no spots of dead grass indicating that a dog had urinated there.
    At the end of Oak, Barton turned onto Maple, then went up Elm to Hicks. Then he drove down the six hundred block of Oak a second time.
    While the condition of the yard suggested that there was no large dog present, a smaller pet might still lurk within the house. When he penetrated he would bring a hammer, raw meat and a plastic garbage bag for the animal's body.
    If people like him got caught it was because they were careless.