The Child Read Online Free PDF Page A

even if they were guilty. Here, Stew had done nothing wrong and his parents were blaming him.
    What does wrong mean, anyway?
    Okay, so there is something wrong with him. Big deal. He’s wrong. But even if Stew was totally wrong and never should have been born, he still was born. That’s how he looked at it. Doesn’t being born count for something? Everyone else around him was doing what their parents wanted: getting blow jobs from girls and getting drunk. He had a secret life. They had a public life. Why was his a secret? Why was he always sneaking around hiding? And why didn’t he mind?
    Because he was slime, that’s why. Only the scum of the earth likes acting like scum. His parents were right—he didn’t deserve to live, but he does live. Now his life would be unbearable. It would be disgusting. Every second of his life would be repulsive. Others would say so.
    “But Marty? The officer can make a suggestion, can’t he?” Brigid
turned back to Officer Bart. “Can’t you?”
    “Mrs. Mulcahey,” the cop jawed. “Stew is only fifteen. He’s a minor. In fact, he’s a boy. According to the law, he’s not responsible for his actions here.”
    The cop’s full name was Kevin Malachi Bart. Stew could tell the guy was an asshole, just like his father. This was another one of those guys who was in charge for no reason other than that they said so, and everyone was expected to go along with it.
    “The blame, Mrs. Mulcahey, rests entirely on those two pedophiles. John Doe One and John Doe Two.” He glared at Stew.
    “Our daughter got pregnant,” Marty said, remembering. “But she’s a girl and that was bad enough. He married her anyway. You never think some guy is going to get into your son’s pants.”
    Marty picked up the remote and turned on the football game. He couldn’t help it. It was automatic. The cop stared. Was this guy kidding? Then the phone rang.
    “I’ll get it,” Marty said, happy for the diversion. “Hello?… Yeah, we’re shipping tomorrow. You should receive the filter at about three p.m. on Wednesday. Always at your service.” He hung up.
    “Turn off the TV,” the cop ordered.
    Marty woke up.
    “Oh, sorry.”
    And then there was silence again.
    Marty looked around, panicked. He had no idea of what to do. He saw Stew.
    “Stew!”
    “Yeah?”
    “Uhhh. How did you get to Westchester?”
    “Bus.”

    It was the first real question his father had asked him in years. Stew felt like crying. He’d waited so long.
    “Good boy.” Officer Bart perked up.
    The phone rang again.
    “I’ll get it!” Marty said, delighted. “Hello?… Yeah, we’re shipping tomorrow. You should receive your pool filter by three p.m. on Wednesday. Always at your service.”
    Bart took one step closer.
    Marty hung up the phone and reached for the remote.
    “Marty, don’t turn on the TV,” Brigid gasped for the cop’s benefit.
    “I know it’s important,” he said, waving the white flag. “I just can’t believe it.”
    That was the signal, the change in tone. So Bart moved in for the kill.
    “Mr. and Mrs. Mulcahey.” Bart tried to look sincere. “Your son is a victim. He was molested. Repeatedly.”
    “Jesus Christ.”
    “In fact,” Bart said, checking his notebook, “he has confessed to having been molested on at least three occasions. All of these involved transport of a minor for illegal sexual purposes. He was molested. This is a clear-cut case of child abuse here by two twisted predators, who, I assure you, will be put away for a long time, but only with your son’s co-operation.”
    “Oh, we’re co-operating all right.” Marty looked around to be sure everyone was listening. It wasn’t Stew’s fault, the cop had said as much. “Stew, I’m sorry this happened to you. I’d like to hurt those guys. Officer, whatever it takes to get those guys. How did you meet them?”

    “Online.”
    “Good boy,” said Officer Bart.
    Stew looked up at the moron cop. He wanted to shoot a hole