Dark Places

assholes—they neglected the shit out of her—and she’d need the drama, start some shit, run away, whatever. Total soap opera. I guess she finally ran away, decided it wasn’t worth coming home. I mean, you try the white pages?”
    “She’s listed as a missing person,” Lyle said, looked at me again to see if I minded the interruption. I didn’t.
    “Oh, she’s fine,” Trey said. “My guess is she’s living somewhere under one of her crazy-ass names.”
    “Crazy names?” I said, put a hand on Lyle’s arm to keep him quiet.
    “Oh, nothing, she was just one of those girls, always trying to be different. One day she’d talk in an English accent, next day it was Southern. She never gave anyone her real name. Like she’d go to the beauty parlor and give a wrong name, go order a pizza and give the wrong name. She just liked screwing with people, you know, just playing. ‘I’m Desiree from Dallas, I’m Alexis from London.’ She was always giving, uh, using her porn name, you know?”
    “She did porn?” I said.
    “No, like that game. What’s the name of your childhood pet?”
    I stared at him.
    “What’s the name of your childhood pet,” he prompted.
    I used Diane’s dead dog: “Gracie.”
    “And what was the name of the street you grew up on?”
    “Rural Route 2.”
    He laughed. “Well, that one didn’t work. It’s supposed to sound slutty, like Bambi Evergreen or something. Diondra’s was … Polly something … Palm. Polly Palm, how great is that?”
    “You don’t think she’s dead?”
    He shrugged.
    “You think Ben was really guilty?” I asked.
    “I got no opinion on that. Probably.”
    Lyle was suddenly tense, bobbing up and down, pushing his pointy finger against my back, trying to steer me toward the door.
    “So thanks for your time,” Lyle blurted, and I frowned at him and he frowned back at me. A fluorescent above us thrummed on and off suddenly, flashing sick light on us, the bunnies scampering around in the straw. Trey scowled up at the light and it stopped, as if scolded.
    “Well, can I give you my number, in case you think of anything?” I said.
    Trey smiled, shook his head. “No thanks.”
    Trey turned away then. As we walked toward the door, the music got loud again. I turned around as the storm started to crackle, oneside of the sky black, the other yellow. Trey was coming back out of the office, watching us with his hands on his sides, the rabbits behind him doing a sudden scuffle.
    “Hey Trey, so what’s BFE then?” I called.
    “Butt Fucked Egypt, Libby. That’s our hometown.”
    LYLE WAS GALLOPING ahead of me, leaping off the steps. He reached the car in three big strides, jiggling the handle to be let in,
comeoncomeoncomeon
. I dropped in next to him, pre-annoyed. “What?” I said. Thunder crackled. A gust of air kicked up a wet gravel smell.
    “Just drive first, let’s get out of here, hurry.”
    “Yessir.”
    I swung out of the parking lot, back toward Kansas City, the rain turning frantic. I’d driven about five minutes when Lyle told me to pull over, aimed himself at me, and said, “Oh my God.”

Ben Day
JANUARY 3, 1985
12:02 A.M.
    T hey pulled up outside Diondra’s, the dogs barking frantically as usual, as if they’d never seen a truck, or a person, or Diondra even. They all three went through the back gate, then Diondra told Ben and Trey to stand in front of the sliding door and to take their clothes off so they wouldn’t drip blood everywhere.
Just peel ’em off, put ’em all in a pile, and we’ll burn them
.
    The dogs were frightened of Trey. They barked but they didn’t come near him—he’d beaten the shit out of the white one once, and they all walked carefully around him ever since. Trey pulled his shirt off from the back, the way guys in movies did, the hard way, and then he unbuttoned his jeans, his eyes on Diondra, as if they were about to screw. Like this was some crazy foreplay. Ben pulled his shirt off the same way, and unpeeled his pants, those leather pants he’d sweat through already, and then the dogs were on him, sniffing at his crotch, licking at his arms, like they might devour him. He pushed one away, his palm on its snout, pushing hard, and it just came right back, slobbery, aggressive.
    “It wants to suck your dick, man.” Trey laughed. “Get it where you can, right?”
    “He ain’t getting any from me, so he might as well,” Diondra snapped, doing her pissy, loop-de-loop head twist. She stepped out