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“Do you want to try that again?” Theo asked. “Someone killed Shaniyah Johnson because she was investigating Leon’s disappearance. Right now, you’re the best candidate. They’ll put someone on the stand, some forensic expert, and he’ll tell them all about the fibers under Shaniyah’s fingernails, about the match to your cardigan, about the fact that someone tried to get rid of the cardigan, to destroy the evidence. They’ll put another expert on the stand, and he’ll tell them about the tape over her mouth, about how that symbolizes that killer’s motive to silence the victim, to keep her from revealing any secrets. They’ll put somebody up there to talk about your childhood, and why you’re attracted to teenage boys, and they’ll use the word predator. And brick by brick, they’re going to wall you up, Dalton.”
Dalton made a choked sound and shook his head again. He squeezed his eyes shut. Once again, Auggie had the sense that this, perhaps, was the truth—or as close to it as someone like Dalton Weber could come.
He said, “You know who we’re talking about. Why won’t you tell us? If you’re protecting someone—” He stopped because he thought of the Cottonmouth Club, the ooze of brown light, the man named Gideon saying something about the weekend before. He thought about the person who had come into their home and tried to kill them. “If you’re scared, Dalton, the police can protect you.”
“Ha!” The sound wasn’t amused; it was a bark of scorn and derision. But Dalton shook his head, and he blinked his eyes clear. A single tear ran down his cheek. He shouldered it away, cleared his throat, and sat up again. “If that’s what you think, you’ve got no idea what you’re talking about.”
“Then tell us,” Theo said. “Tell us what’s going on.”
“These are dangerous people. These are bad, bad, dangerous people. And they can—they can get you anywhere, don’t you understand? Maybe you’re right. Maybe they’ll convict me, and maybe I’ll go to prison, and maybe those things, what you said, that’ll happen to me. But that’s better than what they’ll do, all right?”
Theo shook his head. “If it’s witness protection—”
Dalton barked that laugh again, and Theo sat back and looked at Auggie, helplessness scribbled across his face.
“You cared about Leon,” Auggie said. “Nobody else did. Not his mom. Not his dad. They couldn’t be bothered with him when they were married, and they had even less time for him after they got divorced. You took him in when he needed a home. You were good and decent and kind to him. And someone did something to him, Dalton. Something horrible. I don’t know you, but I don’t think you’re the kind of person who’s willing to let that happen, especially not to someone like Leon.”
His face crumpled. Tears came. He shook his head again. It went on for a minute, and then another, and then he exhaled sharply several times and wiped his eyes on his shoulder because he couldn’t bring his hands up that high. When he spoke, there was only the slightest roughness to his voice.
“There’s a place,” Dalton said. “The Cottonmouth Club.”
It was like electricity, like someone had plugged in a cord. Every part of Auggie lit up. Goose bumps knitted his forearms, and the faint brown hairs there stood up.
“We know it,” Theo said.
Dalton frowned. “Ambyr…took us. I mean, I knew Leon from school, and I knew Ambyr because—”
“Because she was your dealer,” Theo said.
With a shrug, Dalton continued, “She introduced us to the Cottonmouth Club. Leon wanted to make some money, and she said she’d vouch for him. I wanted to make sure Leon would be ok.”
Theo’s face tightened at that, but all Auggie could do was hear the words the way Dalton said them, to think about what they said about all the years of loneliness and desire and helplessness.
“Leon thought she was going to set him up dealing drugs,” Dalton said, “but that wasn’t it. Ambyr—you’ve met her?”
“She made an impression,” Theo said drily.
“She does the drug thing, but she’s not—she’s not serious about it, if that makes any sense. We met when she was in a musical I put on at the community theater.Evita. She can’t sing a note, by the way. But the drugs are an easy way for her to make money, and she’s your standard issue basic white bitch, so she doesn’t get hassled by the police. Anyway, if you’ve met her, you know she’s all about her influencer career. So, of course, she wasn’t really trying to help Leon. She was trying to help herself.”
Auggie frowned. “I don’t understand.”
“There was a man there. At the Cottonmouth Club. Ambyr’s supplier had introduced them because the guy was looking for talent, and he thought Ambyr might be interested. Well, Ambyr didn’t want it, what the guy was offering, but she wanted to step up the ladder—this guy said he might have other projects down the road, and he could put her in touch with people, that kind of thing. So, she gave him Leon.”
“What did he want?”
But Theo was the one who answered. “Porn.”
Dalton nodded. “They shot one video here. I don’t know where; Leon didn’t want me to come, and I—I was trying to respect his independence. As an adult.”
Theo didn’t say anything, but Auggie watched it sweep across his face: the incredulity, and then the anger that broke after.
“He came back home.” Dalton stopped. He shook his head, and for a moment, Auggie thought he’d squeeze his eyes shut again. “He was so proud of himself. It had gone so well. He was going to be a star.” He stopped. His throat moved once, and his clasped hands twisted, like he was trying to hold on to something. Or like he was trying to let go. “It was all he could talk about. And I tried to talk to him about it. I tried to be supportive because nobody had ever been supportive, and because it’s important to be sex positive with young people.”
“And because he was so happy,” Auggie said.
Dalton made a little broken noise and nodded. “But I tried to tell him. You can’t do acting as long as I have without hearing a little about the industry. Some people do all right. Some people are all right. But other people…aren’t.”
“And this guy?” Theo asked. “The one who wanted to put an underage boy in a video?”
