feel any of that with Wayne. By obvious, I meant the type of sociopaths we stumble across every day, the smooth guys you know are lying and capable of horrible things. I wasn't getting that vibe either.
What I got from Wayne was something far more frightening. Sit ting here and talking to him-the man who in all likelihood had murdered my sister and at least seven others-felt normal. Okay, even.
"It's been twenty years, Wayne. I need to know what happened in those woods." "Why?" "Because my sister was there."
"No, Cope, that's not what I meant." He leaned in a little. "Why now? As you pointed out, it's been twenty years. So why, old friend, do you need to know now?"
"I'm not sure," I said.
His eyes settled and met mine. I tried to stay steady. Role reversal: The psychotic was trying to read me for a lie.
"The timing," he said, "is very interesting."
"Whys that?"
"Because you're not my only recent surprise visitor."
I nodded slowly, trying not to seem too anxious. "Who else came?"
"Why should I tell you?"
"Why not?"
Wayne Steubens sat back. "You're still a good-looking guy, Cope."
"So are you," I said. "But I think us dating is out of the question."
"I should be angry with you, really."
"Oh?"
"You spoiled that summer for me."
Partitioning. I talked about that before. I know that my face showed nothing, but it was like razors were slicing through my gut. I was making small talk with a mass murderer. I looked at his hands. I imagined the blood. I imagined the blade up against the exposed throat. Those hands. Those seemingly innocuous hands that now sat folded on the steel tabletop. What had they done?
I kept my breath steady.
"How did I do that?" I asked.
"She would have been mine."
"Who would have been yours?"
"Lucy. She was bound to hook up with somebody that summer. If you weren't there, I had more than an inside track, if you know what I mean." I wasn't sure what to say to that, but I waded in. "I thought you were interested in Margot Green."
He smiled. "She had some bod, huh?"
"Indeed."
"Such a major tease. You remember that time when we were on the basketball court?"
I did remember. Instantly. Funny how that worked. Margot was the camp va-va-voom, and man, did she know it. She always wore these excruciating halter tops whose sole purpose was to be more obscene than actual nudity. On that day, some girl had gotten hurt on the volleyball court. I don't remember the girl's name. I think she ended up with a broken leg, but who remembers anymore? What we all remember-the image I was sharing with this sicko-was a panicked Margot Green sprinting past the basketball court in that damn halter top, everything jiggling, screaming for help, and all of us, maybe thirty, forty boys on the basketball court, just stopping and staring slack jawed.
Men are pigs, yes. But so are adolescents. It is an odd world. Nature demands that males between the ages of, say, fourteen and seventeen be come walking hormonal erections. You cant help it. Yet, according to society, you are too young to do anything about it other than suffer. And that suffering increased tenfold around a Margot Green.
God has some sense of humor, don't you think?
"I remember," I said.
"Such a tease," Wayne said. "You do know that she dumped Gil?"
"Margot?"
"Yep. Right before the murder." He arched an eyebrow. "Makes you wonder, doesn't it?"
I didn't move, let him talk, hoped he'd say more. He did.
"I had her, you know. Margot. But she wasn't as good as Lucy." He put his hand to his mouth as though he had said too much. Quite a performance. I stayed very still. "You do know that we had a fling before you arrived that summer, right? Lucy and me."
"Uh-huh."
"You look a little green, Cope. You aren't jealous, are you?"
"It was twenty years ago."
"It was, yes. And to be honest, I only got to second base. Bet you got farther, Cope. Bet you popped that cherry, didn't you?"
He was trying to get a rise out of me. I wouldn't play that game.
"A gentleman never kisses and tells," I said.
"Right, sure. And don't get me wrong. You two were something. A blind man could see it. You and Lucy were the real deal. It was very special, wasn't it?"
He smiled at me and blinked rapidly.
"It was," I said, "a long time ago."
"You don't really believe that, do you? We get older, sure, but in most ways, we still feel exactly