The conclusion was inescapable; it settled over Dave like a heavy tarpaulin, a vast canvas shutting out the light. He rebelled against it, kicked and flailed, scrambled for a way out...but he knew that he was trapped.
The kid was dead. Most of his face was gone.
The kid had been with Larry Smith.
With Larry Smith.
He'd never guessed. Never, not even for an instant, had he imagined; through all the craziness, all the lies, he'd trusted in a fundamental decency, a basic goodness in the object of his obsession. Larry had angered him, confused him, surprised him, misled him, but this...Dave had seen no hint of this.
Everything had changed. One peep over the edge, a glance into one rift among dozens, and everything had changed.
Most of the face was gone.
Dave's stomach tightened and
