“You have a fine, healthy son, Mr. Kinney,” the doctor told Jack that afternoon. He was allowed to view his son through the glass around the nursery. He showed no emotion as he watched the baby crying in his bassinet. “Great,” thought Jack. “A squalling baby to keep me up all night.”  He left the hospital and headed home, picking up a bottle of whiskey at the liquor store.

Jack sat on the sofa, a worn piece of paper in one hand and the bottle of cheap whiskey in the other. He never believed Joanie’s story of when she became pregnant. It was too easy. He knew she had someone on the side, hell, so did he, but he couldn’t believe she let herself get knocked up. He let on that he believed this bastard was his, but he knew, deep down he knew, and would never let his wife or her son live it down. Never. She was just a little too anxious the night he got back from Scranton. She never initiated sex, even after he was gone a month. It just wasn’t her. He thought that maybe she’d changed, but a month later, when she told him she was going to have another baby, he knew. He told her to get an abortion, but she refused. Because of the church. It was always the church. Well, let the church raise him because Jack Kinney sure wasn’t.

He looked at the paper in his hand again. ‘Carl’, in his wife’s handwriting, and a phone number. He didn’t tell Joanie that he found the paper. Of course, then he would have to admit he was actually looking for it, or something like it, since it was hidden in the pocket of an old coat in the back of the closet. He called the number and wasn’t particularly surprised when a man’s voice answered. Jack didn’t say anything but listened as the voice on the other end said hello several times then hung up. Laughter spilled from the drunken mouth. Not happy laughter, but cynical, hateful laughter. Sometimes going through your wife’s things when she’s not around can be very informative.

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Justin was trying his best to keep a smile on his face as Debbie proudly showed him the ‘treasures’ she was giving him. He didn’t want to tell her the apartment was too small for ceramic cats. One live cat was plenty. Vic sure didn’t seem too sad to be getting rid of it. When the doorbell rang, Vic went to answer it. Carl stepped into the living room. Debbie’s face lit up when she saw the detective.

“Hey, Sweet Meat,” Debbie said, with a bright smile on her face. Vic and Justin looked at each other and rolled their eyes. “What brings you here this time of day?”

“I have some bad news about one of your lost boys.”

“Who?” Debbie asks, the concern evident in her voice. She loved all of her boys and hated to see any of them in trouble.

“Kinney.”

“Brian’s in trouble?” Justin couldn’t keep the fear out of the question.

“It seems,” Carl said, “That his nephew has accused him of molesting him.”

“That’s bullshit. Brian is a lot of things, but a child molester isn’t one of them. I’ve known him for half his life.” Debbie was angry and not afraid to show it.

Justin knew it was a lie. “Brian would never do anything like that.”

“I just wanted you to know. He was questioned last night but was released. Right now it’s just his nephew’s word against his, but, like I told Michael, we have to investigate these charges, no matter how absurd they may seem.”

Late that afternoon Justin and Debbie met Carl outside of Claire’s house.  Justin had explained to Carl over the phone about finding John at the arcade and seeing Brian’s cowry shell bracelet on his wrist. Carl wanted to talk to the boy again. Claire opened the door and was surprised to see the trio on her porch. She invited them in, hoping the detective had some news about her brother. She had no idea why Mrs. Novotny was there, though. She knew how much Brian liked her ever since he palled up with her whiney little son, Michael. What made Brian pick Michael as a friend, she never figured out. At least it got him out of the house a lot of the time. When he was home, there were always fights with their father. Why Brian antagonized him all the time, she had no clue, but at least Jack never bothered her. He was too busy being hateful to his only son.

As Carl walked into the house, he looked around to assess the living conditions of the young boy. The house was neat and clean, but that didn’t always mean a whole lot. His eyes rested on a photo in a silver frame on a side table. It was Joan, older and harder than he remembered, but Joan just the same. His years as a police officer taught him not to react one way or the other to surprises and he was glad he had learned well.

“John’s not here. He hasn’t come home from practice yet. What did you want to see me about? Is Brian in jail, yet? He had the nerve to come here last night. Said some awful things to me and my mother.”

“Claire,” Justin said, “I saw John at the arcade a couple of hours ago. He has Brian’s bracelet. The one he said John stole. I saw it myself.”

“You’re Brian’s “friend”, aren’t you?” She almost spat out the words. “Mother told me you were just a kid. I thought she was exaggerating, but you are just a kid. I guess my brother likes them young.”

“Just one minute,” Deb said, shaking a red painted finger in the younger woman’s face. “I’ve know Brian since he was fourteen. I love him like a son and he would never do anything to hurt John or any child.

Claire was about to say something when they heard the back door open and close, then the refrigerator. Seconds later John walked calmly into the living room, drinking a soda. “Mom,” he said, surprised at seeing her standing there looking very angry. That’s when he saw the detective, the woman from the diner and his uncle’s friend who saw him at the arcade. He knew he was busted, but steeled himself not to give it away. He wasn’t going to give them the satisfaction.

“John,” Claire said angrily to her son. “Where’s that bracelet you had on this morning?”

“I lost it at school.”

“You had it this afternoon at the arcade. I saw it.”

“Let me have it, Son,” Carl said, as he held out his hand.

Claire was now believing the worst, that her son did make up the accusation about Brian. And she had believed him. “Give it to him, John!” When John hesitated, she repeated her order. John slowly dug the shell bracelet from his pocket and handed it to the detective.

“I didn’t steal it. I bought it from that store in the mall across from the pet shop,” he tried to explain, knowing it was useless.

Justin pointed to the shells. “Brian got it in Mexico. His initials are on one of the shells.” Carl looked then nodded his head.

“John, did your uncle do to you what you said?”

The boy didn’t answer but stared defiantly at the detective. “He’s just a fag. He deserved it.”

“Shame on you,” Debbie said, glaring at the child. John ran out of the room and up the stairs to his bedroom. “And shame on you.” Those words were directed at Claire.

After Carl told Claire he wanted to see her and John at the police station first thing in the morning, the three of them left. Just before Justin got into Debbie’s car, Carl handed him the bracelet. “Would you like to give this back to K...Brian?

Justin smiled. “Yeah. Thanks.” He took the bracelet and held it tight in his hand. As he got into the car, he saw Debbie give Carl a hug and kiss and just shook his head. Actually, he was glad Debbie was so happy, but images of them “doing it” sent chills up his spine. He fingered the hard shells and soft leather in his hand and thought, instead, of Brian and how much he missed him.