Another Kind of Eden (Holland Family Saga 3)

Benbow and I walked Stoney into an interview room and closed the door behind us. “How you doin’, partner?” I said.

He was wearing a Mickey Mouse T-shirt and polka-dot tennis shoes and purple corduroy pants that were too big for him. I had never seen eyes so blue, so untroubled by knowledge or even awareness of the world. It was hard to separate Stoney’s eyes from the fear and disorder that obviously held sway over his metabolism, if not his soul.

“They got you in here, too, ice cream guy?” he said.

“On an earlier beef, but I’m okay now,” I replied. “Can you tell us what happened to Moon Child?”

He looked like someone had touched him with a cattle prod. He began making a droning sound through his nose, like a car engine going uphill.

“I think you called the ambulance, Stoney,” I said. “That’s a real good thing you did.”

The droning shifted into overdrive.

I ran my fingers down the inside of his arm. “Who’s been shooting you up, partner?”

The droning turned to a moan, then he began to wheeze.

“This is Detective Benbow,” I said. “He wants to help you. You didn’t do anything wrong. You’re one of the good guys. You hearing me on this? Who hurt Moon Child?”

He stopped moaning and started crying.

“Stoney?” I said. “You still with us?”

He leaned sideways and tried to look past me through a small window in the door. His eyes were furtive, like a child’s. “Moon Child’s in the coven.”

I saw Benbow look at me.

“The coven?” I said.

“All the girls are in it. The boys aren’t allowed.”

“This is a new one on us, Stoney,” I said. “What exactly does the word ‘coven’ mean?”

“The thing the girls belong to.”

“I see,” I said. “If you get out of here, where will you go?”

“The place on the other side,” he replied.

“Which place is that?” I asked.

“The place where everybody goes.”

“Can you tell me where that is?” I asked.

“Where the spirits are dancing.”

Before I could speak again, Benbow raised his hand. “Who are these spirits?” he asked.

Stoney smiled. “Everybody knows that. The Indians.”

Benbow leaned back in his chair. “With feathers and such?”

“Yes, sir,” Stoney replied. “They’re the ones building fires up in the cliffs. I’ve seen them.”

Benbow’s right hand was opening and closing on his knee, his discomfort more than he could hide.

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