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“Huh?
“What about passwords for your computer? Isn’t your computer password protected?”
“Yes, it is.”
“So how could anyone else use it to send emails?”
“I-I have all my passwords written down in a notebook by my computer,” he confessed, looking embarrassed.
“A notebook?”
“Yes,” he replied dropping his gaze. ‘It’s markedPasswords.”
“Of course, it is. Great system you have there, Jace. Very secure.”
“But at least it might account for it, right?”
“It might, yes.”
I wrote something down in my own notebook and then looked back up at him.
“You’re saying it’s your little brother who caused all those bruises on your arms and torso. Is that right? If he’s so violent, why isn’t he in some kind of care?” I pretended to make a note and then looked up at him.
He was back to glaring at me, one of those mercurial changes he seemed to go through. “What kind of care would that be, Detective? Nothing’s free, you know, and if we put him in the state facilities…” He glared at me with real anger. “Have you ever been to the state mental hospital, by any chance? Because I have, as it was the only one my mother could afford after my dad passed away. I would never do that to him again. I wouldn’t do that to my worst enemy.”
“Okay, I get it. Settle down.”
But he was on a roll, and he kept going, getting more agitated.
“My mom suffers from depression, and she was really ill for a while after my father’s death. She became unable to care for Tyler, who has always had a lot of behavioral issues, which were made much worse, almost unmanageable, by my dad’s death. So, my aunt, who is my mom’s only other living relative, arranged for Tyler to be sent to a residential ward at Milledgeville. I’ll never forgive myself for not taking the time to investigate the place first, but when I finally got home from New York, I did. And I took him out of there the same day.”
“Didn’t you come home for your father’s funeral?” I asked, mostly to distract him.
He looked blank. “I-I…no, I didn’t. No.”
“Really? Why’s that? Isn’t that kind of unusual? Were the two of you fighting?”
“N-no. I-I don’t remember why exactly.” There was that dazed and confused look again. I saw that he absentmindedly touched the bite on his neck, again as if for comfort.“There must have been a good reason.”
I didn’t press him. Malone hadn’t allowed him to come. That was what had happened. Once a vampire, or even a half-blood, gets his hooks deeply into someone, they called all the shots. He’d told Jace not to go and so he hadn’t. I began to realize that long before Dylan had become a victim himself, he had been a dominating and controlling abuser to Jace. He had stayed at home, going on auditions, working only part time jobs, frittering away his time and money, while Jace paid all the bills and did all the work.
I wondered what it took for him to finally break away from Malone and leave him in New York. Maybe it was the violence of the attack. Only something really traumatic could shake a guy like Jace loose from the domination of his abuser, even temporarily. Had the assault finally been the last straw? I wondered just how bad it had been. The accounts of the neighbors called the screams, “bloodcurdling.” That said a lot.
I was quiet for a moment, then nodded at Jace, warning myself again not to feel anything like pity for him.
“Your brother beats you up, right? He must be a pretty big kid.”
He flushed and shook his head. “He’s big for his age, I guess. He’s not trying to hurt me, and he didn’t attack me or anything. I just got in the way of a tantrum this time, that’s all.”
That was all. I felt the stab of pity again, despite telling myself not to. At least not until we knew exactly what Jace was and how far gone he was. There still might be a chance to save him, though it would be a long and difficult recovery, even without the family considerations. I was beginning to get a pretty clear picture of what Jace’s life must be like. He spent his days working a low paying job, while trying to take care of a mentally challenged brother and a depressed mother. Meanwhile, Dylan Malone preyed on him, draining him of his strength and vitality and slowly but surely killing him.
That was another reason Jace was so unusual. He had close family ties, and vampires mostly avoided those people, so they wouldn’t complain to the police and Hunters wouldn’t notice and come after them. Unless they found themselves a thrall that was important to them, like Jace O’Neal apparently was to Malone.
“You told us you were at work last night,” I said. “Till what time?”
“After midnight. Maybe close to twelve thirty.”
“Can anyone corroborate that?”
