Chapter Seven – Part 4
Elroy tried not to look like he was paying attention as the grown-ups bickered. He watched his iPod intently as he flung little cartoon birds at little cartoon pigs, but he kept watching them out of the corner of his eye. The way the colors shifted around them, especially when they became upset or angry, fascinated Elroy. He also knew that staring, in Barney's words, "creeped people out."
Everyone had gathered in a parking garage close by the hospital where they had taken Charlie. Elroy played Angry Birds leaning on the bumper of the grey van, while everyone else was by Mr. Jackson's sedan, the dark blue one that looked like an unmarked police car. Barney, a blond man in jeans and cowboy boots, sat on the hood. He shone bright in Elroy's vision, not like the girl, but he was all strong colors and coiled energy. George paced in front of Barney, running shaking hands through wispy white hair. His aura was faint, almost black and white. Tired.
"Calm down, George," Barney said. His voice had twang, like a real cowboy.
"Oh, 'calm down' he says," George said. "Great, Barney, I'll remember that advice when you're in charge of a kid that blows up and starts threatening the local cops."
"You ain't in charge of them 'till we have them, George. Now if Elroy started waving a gun, then I'd worry." Barney cocked a head toward Elroy, and Elroy studied the screen on his iPod as a small red bird flew way too far off the screen.
"I'm sure Elroy appreciates that."
"Do you, Elroy?"
"Sure," Elroy said without looking up.
"Y'all know what'd happen if you waved a gun around?" Barney asked him.
Elroy looked up at Barney's frightening aura. He said, quietly, "You'd shoot me in the head and Mr. Jackson would dump the body in a storm sewer."
Barney laughed and looked back at George. "Smart kid."
George stopped pacing. "His IQ is twice yours, Barney, and I'd like you to shut the fuck up."
"Touchy," said Barney, but he shut up.
"God," George muttered, "of all the teams to be saddled with. The boy was eighteen. We should have snagged him the moment we found him."
"The girl is better," Elroy whispered.
"I know, and that's what you're here for. But—" George stared at Barney, "using someone as unstable a Charles Wilson to draw her out again was not the right way to do things."
"Fuck you very much," Barney said politely.
At that, the sliding door on the van shot open and the woman inside said, "Would you children stop bickering." She was pointedly looking at George and Barney, "Some people are trying to sleep."
"Sorry Jane," George said.
"He started it," said Barney.
Jane ignored him. "Is Jackson back yet?"
Three heads shook in unison. George said, "He's off with some local cops, but I don't see the federal bit lasting much longer—" George stopped in mid-sentence, because a gray-haired man was walking toward them.
"Speak of the devil," Jane said.
Fred Jackson walked up to the trio of vehicles. He nodded toward George and Jane, "Doctors—"
"What's the good word, boss?" Barney asked.
"The word is, Charlie Woodrow Wilson is no longer a concern of ours."
"You're kidding," George said.
Fred shook his head. "No. We're supposed to avoid local involvement, and waving firearms at policemen is pretty involved. For what he is, Mr. Wilson isn't worth the trouble of extracting from the criminal tangle he's put himself in."
"What a waste," Jane said.
"It's his own fault, Doctor."
"What now?" George asked.
"Now we shift our attention to the powerful focus that Elroy drew our attention to."
"The girl?" Barney asked.
"The girl."
"I told you she was better." Elroy smiled.
