24
Deliberately staring away from my estranged brother in the nearly bombed-out detritus of Father’s pillaged apartment, I can’t help wondering: What secrets could an old drunk trainyard watchman carry home?
There’s only one way to know. “Listen.”
“Yeah?” Will’s face has a fresh flush of anger and his hands keep flexing into fists. Staring at the busted-up side table has his mad back up. He’s breathing too quickly, on the verge of hyperventilating.
I say, “I need you to tell me what’s not here.”
“How am I supposed to know that?”
I turn to face him. “Listen to me.”
Will jerks his attention away from the wreckage to snarl into my face.
I deliberately lower my voice. “Listen. This pisses me off too. But getting mad isn’t gonna help. You want to figure out what happened? You need to ca
