The Child Read Online Free PDF

through his head. The guy was so ugly. He had that fake calm that stupid guys with all the power always have. He was a piece of shit. Stew was a prisoner of war. This was war. He knew he must never, ever confess, no matter how much they tortured him. That was a given. Stew had no future–everyone knew it. So what did he have to gain by squealing? Nothing. At least this way he’d have honor even if he were dead. If Stew died, everyone would be happier.
    “Why would someone do such a thing?” asked Brigid. Innocent. This won over Bart. It gave him the opportunity to have the answer and explain. He loved that. It’s what he lived for.
    “I know it’s hard to understand. These pedophiles are sick. They live in their own world, where they try to figure out how to get into our world and ruin our lives. Otherwise we’re strangers. You spend your life taking care of your son. Then one day the pedophiles ruin it. They ruin everything you’ve done. Encourage your boy to co-operate. Then you will be helping him.”
    “Okay,” Brigid said, showing how profoundly she had been convinced.
    “Now, Stew,” the cop slurped. “You tell me exactly how these men entrapped you. How they coerced you into meeting them. Tell me everything that they said and did. I’ve got a piece of paper. I’ll take your deposition. You tell me about the first time they molested you. You tell me every detail. I’ll write it down. Then you sign it.”
    “Well,” Marty said, on a whim. “That computer is going in the garbage right now.”
    Marty stood up and walked toward the computer, like John
Wayne at the OK Corral. Like he was facing his responsibilities. He stared down at the machine, seized it, and carried it to the trash.
    “Don’t touch that, you fucker.” Stew ran to his computer, sitting stupidly on top of a wire mesh trash basket. “I need that.”
    “What did you say, you fucking asshole?”
    “No, no, don’t take it, Daddy.”
    Marty was livid. In front of a cop! “Sit down or get out! No one is going to fuck around with me. I’m taking this to work tomorrow. Jesus, you’re out of control.” Job done, he went back to his chair. Now the cop knew that Marty had at least tried something.
    Stew gently lifted the computer out of the trash and held it, cradled it. Then he set it back down on top of the desk.
    “Well,” Brigid laughed, strangely. “That’s settled then.”
    “We’ll get over this, Stew.” Marty picked up the remote. “Life goes on.”
    “Actually,” Officer Bart said, reminding the Mulcaheys that he was still in the room. “I’m attaching this tracking device to your computer, Stew.” He walked over and started twisting wires and adjusting a small box. “The next time those perverts contact you, we’ll have their location. You know how regularly they are in touch. So just by looking at the clock, you’ll know when we’re going to have them. Stew, listen to me. It’s inevitable.”
    Everyone sat quietly while Bart made the attachment. Marty toyed with the remote but didn’t press Power .
    Stew walked over, slowly, to where Bart was working on his computer. He stood next to the sitting cop and was still half the guy’s size.
    “Is this the tracking device?” Stew asked, reaching for the box.
    “That’s it.”

    Stew picked up the box.
    “Better not touch that, Stew.”
    Stew grabbed the box and smashed it down on the table. Then he threw it on the floor and stomped on it until the plastic casing shattered and dug deep into the wood. The whole time he was doing this he was thinking, Why? Why is this happening? But what he said was “You’ll never get me.”
    Bart stood still, letting him tear the box to shreds. Marty and Brigid didn’t dare move.
    When Stew was finished, he was crying. He was spitting. It was very, very scary for him. What had just happened. “You’ll never get me,” he screamed again.
    “Technically, we already have you,” Bart said quietly.
    Stew was worried. Why were