I Hunt Killers by Barry Lyga

Author:Barry Lyga
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
ISBN: 9780316201742
Publisher: Little, Brown and Company

They rode in silence, G. William speaking only once, to apologize for Erickson yanking Jazz out of play practice so roughly.

“It’s all right,” Jazz told him.

“It’s been a bad few days for him. He was first on the scene to find Myerson’s body. And he was first on the scene for Goodling, too.” G. William chuckled without mirth. “Poor guy transfers down from Lindenberg and his first couple of days are one body stacked on top of another. So he’s just real upset. You know how it is.”

“It’s really all right.”

Play practice was still in session as they pulled up—Jazz recognized some of his castmates’ cars in the parking lot, as well as Ginny’s beat-up old Kia.

“You’re done, Jazz,” G. William told him as he got out of the car. “You’re out of the investigative business, got it? You got any other ideas, you run ’em past me, okay?”

“Sure.”

He waved good-bye to G. William and headed inside, where practice was just ending. With the exception of Connie and Ginny, everyone looked surprised to see him, as though they had expected him to be behind bars by now. And maybe that wasn’t such a crazy expectation. He could hardly blame them.

“I can’t believe he pulled you out of here like that,” Ginny fumed after rehearsal ended. The rest of the cast had drifted off to their cars, leaving Jazz onstage with Ginny and Connie. “I was going to call your grandmother, but Connie said that might not be such a great idea.”

“Probably not.” He squeezed Connie’s hand, which hadn’t left his since he’d walked through the door. “Thanks.”

“But I was ready to call a lawyer. My brother knows someone—”

“It was a misunderstanding,” he assured her, pouring on the charm. He allowed his face to relax into a lazy grin, a “nothing’s wrong in the whole wide world, darlin’” sort of smile that immediately put people at ease. He’d learned it from watching Billy, and it was way too effective. Also, it was far too easy to slip into.

Maybe it was just being in the auditorium, surrounded by the pieces of The Crucible, but Jazz couldn’t help being reminded of another of Hale’s bits of dialogue: “Theology, sir, is a fortress; no crack in a fortress may be accounted small.” He felt the same way about his own sanity. Even the smallest crack, the smallest lapse, could lead to…

Ginny patted his arm. “You let me know if I can help. If you want me to write a letter or something…”

Jazz suppressed a snort of laughter. Write a letter. God bless Ginny Davis and her goofy curls and her millennial hippie-ism.

Connie stayed quiet until they got to Jazz’s car.

“Now what?” she asked, though the expression on her face and the tension he felt in her hand told him that she already knew.

“Ignoring G. William has gotten me this far,” Jazz said. “Let’s see where it takes me next.”

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