From a Buick 8 Read Online Free PDF Page B

wrong with it?'
    'Right now it's not safe.'
    He studied me for several seconds. The interest and lively curiosity drained out of his face as he did, and he once more became the boy 1 had seen so often since he started coming by the barracks, the one I'd seen most clearly on the day he'd been accepted at Pitt. The boy sitting on the smokers' bench with tears rolling down his cheeks, wanting to know what every kid in history wants to know when someone they love is suddenly yanked off the stage: why does it happen, why did it happen to me, is there a reason or is it all just some crazy roulette wheel? If it means something, what do I do about it? And if it means nothing, how do I bear it?
    'Is this about my father?' he asked. 'Was that my dad's car?'
    Generated by ABC Amber LIT Conv erter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html
    His intuition was scary. No, it hadn't been his father's car . . . how could it be, when it wasn't really a car at all? Yes, it had been his father's car. And mine . . . Huddie Royer's . . . Tony Schoondist's . . . Ennis Rafferty's. Ennis's most of all, maybe. Ennis's in a way the rest of us could never equal. Never wanted to equal. Ned had asked who the car belonged to, and I supposed the real answer was Troop D, Pennsylvania State Police. It belonged to all the Troopers, past and present, who had ever known what we were keeping out in Shed B. But for most of the years it had spent in our custody, the Buick had been the special property of Tony and Ned's dad. They were its curators, its Roadmaster Scholars.
    'Not exactly your dad's,' I said, knowing I'd hesitated too long. 'But he knew about it.'
    'What's to know? And did my mom know, too?'
    'Nobody knows these days except for us,' I said.
    'Troop D, you mean.'
    'Yes. And that's how it's going to stay.' There was a cigarette in my hand that I barely remembered lighting. I dropped it to the macadam and crushed it out. 'It's our business.'
    I took a deep breath.
    'But if you really want to know, I'll tell you. You're one of us now . . . close enough for government work, anyway.' His father used to say that, too - all the time, and things like that have a way of sticking.
    'You can even go in there and look.'
    'When?'
    'When the temperature goes up.'
    'I don't get you. What's the temperature in there got to do with anything?'
    'I get off at three today,' I said, and pointed at the bench. 'Meet me there, if the rain holds off. If it doesn't, we'll go upstairs or down to the Country Way Diner, if you're hungry. I expect your father would want you to know.'
    Was that true? I actually had no idea. Yet my impulse to tell him seemed strong enough to qualify as an intuition, maybe even a direct order from beyond. I'm not a religious man, but I sort of believe in such things. And I thought about the oldtimers saying kill or cure, saying give that curious cat a dose of satisfaction.
    Does knowing really satisfy? Rarely, in my experience. But I didn't want Ned leaving for Pitt in September the way he was in July, with his usual sunny nature flickering on and off like a lightbulb that isn't screwed all the way in. I thought he had a right to some answers. Sometimes there are none, I know that, but I felt like trying. Felt I had to try, in spite of the risks. Earthquake country,Curtis Wilcox said in my ear. That's earthquake country in there, so be careful.
    'Goose walk over your grave again, Sandy?' the boy asked me.
    'I guess it wasn't a goose, after all,' I said. 'But it was something.'
    Generated by ABC Amber LIT Conv erter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html

    The rain held off. When I went out to join Ned on the bench which faces Shed B across the parking lot, Arky Arkanian was there, smoking a cigarette and talking Pirate baseball with the kid. Arky made as if to leave when I showed up, but I told him to stay put. 'I'm going to tell Ned about the Buick we keep over there,' I told Arky, nodding toward the ramshackle shed across the way. 'If he decides to call