Chapter 40
THE KIDS who claimed the back corner of Jack’s bar, near the bedraggled dart board, ranged from thirteen to about seventeen and wore everything from ragged cutoff jeans and T-shirts to expensive club wear. I’d seen most of them there each night, talking and laughing and artlessly flirting, and constantly resisted the need to ask them where their parents were. Same place everybody else not there was, and I couldn’t adopt all eight of them.
But a few nights ago, there had been nine.
Now they looked worried as Ceren led me back. Eyebrows were pulled low, and their youthful voices held uncomfortable intensity instead of their usual boisterousness. I caught slices of conversation.
“—three nights ago—”
“—pharmacy—”
“—running, like—”
“Guys,” Ceren said. “This is Kevin. He used t
