Page 84 of Random in Death

“He’s short for his age. A big brain, but weak, physically on the puny side. Not athletic. Nobody invites him to parties or to just hang. He doesn’t have a circle, nobody to stand up for him. Or tell him how baggies are supposed to drape.”

Sitting back, Mira sipped some tea. “You have a picture.”

“When I was that age, I didn’t want a circle. Actually, I never wanted one, yet it just happened. But at that age, I made sure I didn’t. I know what it’s like to be singled out and get the shit kicked out of you emotionally and/or physically.”

“What did you do?”

“Learned to kick back, harder. Get through it and move on. He can’t move on. I wanted to be left alone. He wants the opposite. Even a punch in the face is attention, isn’t it? When you can’t even get that? You’ve got nothing.”

“That’s interesting.” Head angled, Mira set her teacup aside. “There may have been a teacher, an administrator, someone in charge who saw to it he was left alone. Stop the bullying, the taunting, the teasing—an effort to protect him. And he may have felt even more isolated.”

“He’s a killer. You don’t kill this way unless it’s in you. ‘You think it’s funny?’ That’s what Arlie’s boyfriend heard her say after she thought she got stung by a wasp. He stood close enough for her to see him. See him smiling or laughing at her pain. He strutted off the dance floor after jabbing Jenna.

“Proud of himself,” Eve concluded. “He’s a sick, twisted, vicious little son of a bitch.”

“Well. Not the clinical conclusions I’ll write in my profile, but yes. Yes, he is. Look for exceptional students, science and math particularly, in accelerated courses. He may have skipped a grade along the way, or taken early college courses.

“His school records would include incidents of bullying, unless that, too, was ignored. And, Eve, it’s possible he could afford better clothes, but simply didn’t know the importance, at that age, of the right brand or style. Alternately, he may come from a financially stable family, but is kept on a strict budget.”

“Someone could buy his clothes,” Eve considered. “Pick them, hand them over.”

“Ah, so baggies aren’t on the approved list. Also possible,” Mira agreed.

“He’s got plans for another.”

“I’m afraid I agree. And very soon.”

“Summer. Most kids are out of school. Some working part-time, and all of them looking for something to do. Where’s the action, where’s the fun? Some music, some noise, some excitement. He just has to pick his spot.”

“And there are so many.”

“Yeah, there are. I appreciate you making time for this.”

“How much sleep have you had in the last, what, thirty-six hours?”

“It has to be enough.” But it made her think. “You know, if he’s got a summer job, or the big brain copped him an internship—lab work’s where I lean. He’s not getting a lot of sleep, either. Maybe taking boosters to get through the day. Or making his own.”

“Considering the amount of sleep most teenagers need, you’re very likely right.”

“It’s good. That’s good. He’ll screw up somewhere. Not soon enough, maybe not soon enough, but he’ll screw something up.”

She pulled out her signaling ’link. “An incoming from the lab. The scuff marks. Got a partial. Kick It brand, Zoomers, men’s size between six and seven. That’s small, isn’t it?”

“Dennis wears a ten, if that helps.”

“Small feet, short guy. And even I know this brand is crap. Cheap soles, dye bleeds, so enough for the partial. Bet he’s got blisters. Gotta get on this.”

“Keep me informed.”

“I will. Thanks again.” She kept her ’link in her hand as she tagged Peabody. “Find out what stores in New York carry Kick It brand Zoomers. We’re looking for men’s size six to seven.”

“Small feet, crap shoes.”

“I know that much. Find more.”

She cut Peabody off, grabbed a glide.

Already a mistake, she thought. Scuff marks, trace on the window frame. Little, tiny mistakes.

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