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computers and technology. Damien figured Hunter would probably make a great living at it someday.
    If he didn’t turn out to be a reprobate. Damien whimpered as the word crossed his mind. How could he even think that? He glanced at Hunter, who stared at him from his bed all the way across the room. Maybe he was being too hard on the kid. After all, he didn’t have cold, hard facts. If he was going to be an investigative reporter, he needed to have the facts.
    He slowly let go of the death grip he had on the doorknob and smiled, about three and a half minutes too late. Now he just looked awkward or intoxicated. But a determination set in. No, he was not going to let Hunter fade away into the screen-saver sunset. He and his son had always been close. He took a few steps into the room.
    “Need something?” Hunter asked, clutching his pillow against him.
    “No. Just wanted to say hi. Hadn’t seen you all day. Guess your mom told you I’d be over at Frank’s.”
    “I know. It’s Frank’s ex-anniversary, right?”
    “Yeah. Had some chicken wings and stuff.”
    “Cool. Chicken wings are good.”
    “Yeah.”
    Silence again.
    Then, like a magnet pulling his face, Damien turned his head to the right to glance at the computer. Now he looked like a snoop! But shouldn’t he be snooping? Shouldn’t he be wondering? He had to save face quickly. “Hey, Frank showed me something interesting tonight. Can I borrow your computer?” He sat down in front of Hunter’s computer.
    Hunter swung his legs around and his feet hit the floor. “Show me something on the computer?”
    “Yeah. Believe it or not, I do know how to use one of these things. I just need you to get me on the Internet.”
    Hunter walked over, took the mouse, clicked on something, and up popped a picture.
    “Is this where I type in the World Wide Web thing?”
    “The address. Yes.”
    Damien’s hunt-and-peck method drove his son crazy, but he managed to get it all typed in and push Enter.
    “What are you doing?” Hunter asked.
    “Someone has started a Web site about our town. It’s kind of weird. They’re posting conversations. Only conversations. Frank says it’s not a blog. Take a look.”
    Hunter leaned over Damien’s shoulder, then said, “Yeah. Okay. Cool.”
    Damien spun in his chair, trying to act enthusiastic. “What do you think about it?”
    Hunter shrugged. “I don’t know.”
    “I don’t know either. It’s a little strange. Why would someone want to post conversation after conversation? Is that something new? Like a clog?”
    “Clog?”
    “Conversation log.” Damien laughed. “Sorry. Just being funny.” He spun back around to look at the computer. “Anyway, I just thought you might find it interesting. But maybe not. It’s probably pretty boring to you. But you know me . . .”
    “You love words.”
    “I love words. Words are important. Words—”
    “I know, Dad. Connect us.” Hunter stood next to him, looking at the screen. “Somebody has too much time on their hands. But maybe there’s a point to it.”
    “Maybe.” Damien stood and pushed the chair against the desk. They were connecting here. This was good. “I got the investigative reporter job today, so I’m probably going to have to start using a computer more for research and things like that. I was wondering if maybe you could show me a few things this weekend, like how to do research using search engines.”
    “Sure. No problem.”
    Damien grabbed Hunter’s shoulder and pulled him into a quick hug, then went to the door. “You know you can always come talk to me. About anything. You know that, right?”
    Hunter nodded.
    “And that I’m always proud of you. You’re a good kid, and I’m amazed at how much you know about computers. I know you’re going to go places.”
    Hunter’s dull eyes of late brightened a little. “I kinda want to do what you do.”
    “What I do?”
    “Yeah. I think it’s cool how you write stuff and people respond and how you