Excerpts

Chapter One Vera Drinkwater had been a slut in high school, or so they said. According to Artie Galbreath, she'd traded a blowjob for tickets to REO Speedwagon in the back of his Goodtimes van, the kind with the shag carpet on the walls. Artie was the class dealer and liked to sample his own inventory, so you had to take that into account. I had no firsthand knowledge of her morals as I only knew her from the two or three classes we had senior year. As I recalled, she looked the part back then. She didn't appear very slutty now, sitting in my office crying. She looked pathetic, sleazy, and frumpy at the same time in a too-tight running suit with mascara drizzling down her face. Her hair was stringy and fried blond one too many times. "Hank, you've got to help me." She blew her nose into a crumpled paper napkin. "I don't know where else to turn." "Vera, why don't you take a moment and get yourself together. Then start at the beginning." I pushed a box of tissues across the desk. She grabbed a handful and blew her nose again. "It's my little brother. He's missing. He was supposed to come to my birthday party, two days ago, and he never showed up. It's not something he would do; it's not like him at all." She coughed and shifted her weight. Her chair squeaked on the worn hardwood floor. My office was the back bedroom of a converted 1920s Tudor house, on Reiger Street, in old East Dallas. For that era, it was a large room, with plaster walls, crown molding, and built-in bookcases. Everything about the place squeaked or groaned. "What's your brother's name?" She rubbed her nose with another wad of tissues. "Charlie. I mean Charles. Charles Wesson." "I remember him." An image came to mind: little Charlie Wesson, all arms and legs, gawky with thick glasses and an overstuffed backpack, two grades below me. The stoners who hung out behind the gym used to pound the hell out of him until I intervened that one time. That stopped them for a while. The downside was that I couldn't get rid of Charlie, always tripping over himself to be in my general vicinity. "He's my half brother; my mom remarried a couple of years after her and my dad split." Vera tugged at a lock of blonde hair, wrapping it around her thumb. "My stepfather's name was Ketch Wesson. He's Charlie's father." She seemed to say the name of her mother's second husband with a vengeance, as if she wanted to expel the words before they lingered on her lips too long. "I take it you didn't like Ketch too much." She grimaced and made a hucking sound that ended with the clearing of her throat. "Ketch was an asshole. Ex-marine, big run-a-tight-ship kinda guy. Lots of chores. And rules. Still, he kept a roof over me and Mom's head when no one else would." Copyright (c) 2005 by Harry Hunsicker. All rights reserved. Excerpted from Still River by Harry Hunsicker All rights reserved by the original copyright owners. Excerpts are provided for display purposes only and may not be reproduced, reprinted or distributed without the written permission of the publisher.