from a volcano. “He didn’ toush me. Okay? Just you.”
“I’m glad he didn’t hurt you like that, but it wouldn’t matter. I love you. Jesus, you know that, right?”
Day whimpered as the pain started to overwhelm him, his head pounding and his whole mouth feeling like somebody was hammering slivers of metal into each socket. “I feel funny. Hurts,” he managed, wetness spilling onto his cheeks. “Ow. Everything hurts, Daddy,” he whispered.
Jackson’s face contorted into a pained expression that Day thought his face might make if it wasn’t the consistency of mashed potatoes. “Shh, baby. I know. They’re going to give you something to make the pain go away. Okay? They’re gonna take you to the hospital right now.” When Jackson stood, Day reached for him. Jackson squeezed Day’s hands. “Get them in here. Now.”
Once more, strangers surrounded Day, and he was being lifted, a soft collar going around his neck as he was set on a hard board. His eyes fluttered once more as he heard fabric ripping and felt things being stuck to his body. He cried out at the feel of the wind on his face. Even the breeze hurt.
“Can’t you give him something for the pain? Look at him.”
“Sir,” a woman’s voice said. “Let us do our job. The sooner we get him looked over and in the bus, the faster he gets what he needs.”
“Come on, Jackson. We need to figure out what you’re gonna tell your detective friend about Carl’s little accident.”
“An accident?” Jimmy said, his tone implying he didn’t believe it for a second.
Jackson shrugged, glancing over the railing of the Serendipity Motor Lodge to the once empty pool below that now contained the bent and broken corpse of Carl whatever-his-name-was. “I mean, I suppose he could have jumped. It was all a bit of a blur once my guys got him outside. He was fighting to get away. They said it looked like he tripped.”
“If my boy said it was an accident, then it was an accident, Jimmy.”
Jackson’s gaze jerked up to see his mom marching towards him, dressed in a green dress and mustard yellow sweater, her hair pulled back off her face in a casual style that told Jackson she’d had no intention of leaving the house that day. Beverly Avery was always dressed to the nines when she left her house. She always quoted Coco Chanel, ‘Dress like you might meet your worst enemy today.’
“Mama? What are you doing here?” he asked.
“That boy called me. The pretty one who’s married to Lincoln. He said Day was in the hospital and you were here with the police, so I came straight over and sent your sisters to the hospital to watch over Day until we get there.” She looked over the railing and sucked her teeth. “That him? That the one who hurt our Dayton?”
“Yeah, Mama. That’s him.”
She made a disgusted noise before turning on Jimmy. “You giving my boy a hard time, Jimmy?”
Jimmy shifted on his feet, looking contrite. “Of course not, Bev. You know you’re family. We just need his account for the official record. That’s all.”
“And it couldn’t wait? His boyfriend is in surgery and you’re asking him foolish questions about how the man who put him in the hospital came to be lying in the bottom of a swimming pool? Seems to me he is exactly where he belongs.”
Jackson had never needed anybody to plead his case before, but he leaned against the railing and folded his arms across his chest, giving the man a hard look.
Jimmy’s partner, a young, copper-skinned man with honey-brown eyes named Detective Graves, gazed over the railing with casual disinterest. “You say you got this guy on tape admitting to being a pedophile and a child killer?”
Jackson gave a single nod.
Graves shrugged, his boredom obvious. “Looks like an accident to me, Jimmy. Are you thinking anything different?” Graves asked.
Beverly crossed her arms just as Jackson had, her brow arching at Jimmy.
“No. No, of course not. We’re good. You should get to the hospital and check on Dayton. Tell him we’re all rooting for him at the station when he wakes up.”
Jackson couldn’t help the look of surprise he gave Jimmy. “Uh, yeah. Sure. Okay. I’ll do that.”
Jackson’s mother waited until they were walking down the steps of the dilapidated building, far from earshot, when she asked softly, “You do that to him?”
Jackson knew she was asking if he’d put that man in the bottom of that pool. He had. He hadn’t