The Departed

help. However I can, I’ll help.”
    * * *
     
    IT was hours later before Taylor saw Dez again. The day had slipped away from him without giving him much time to think about Anna, and what tomorrow was. He’d get up early to visit her grave, to take her the flowers. God knew he spent a lot of time thinking about her anyway, no matter where he was.
    He stood in the hallway outside the small hospital lounge, where Mark’s mother was alone, weeping. The family’s day hadn’t gotten any easier. In fact, after Mark had made his confession to Dez, it had gotten worse—so much worse.
    The boy had started having seizures. Apparently he’d had a lot of trouble with them when he was younger, although they’d leveled off as he’d gotten older. The stress, Taylor imagined. Especially once it was discovered the boy was showing signs of going into alcohol withdrawal.
    Like that family didn’t have enough on their hands, he thought, staring out the window as Mark’s mother fought to control her sobs. Her husband was in the room with their son, and she’d been in there as well, up until twenty minutes earlier.
    But now…now she was out here, crying as though her heart was breaking.
    Taylor suspected she hadn’t wanted to break down in front of Mark—so hard for parents to always stay strong around their children. He guessed she needed a few minutes to get the tears out without upsetting her son. He couldn’t blame her.
    One thing was certain, though. Mark wouldn’t be talking to the cops for a few days yet. While part of Taylor was impatient, there was another part of him that thought this was better—the sooner the boy talked, the sooner the other boys would know. Then they’d have time to shore up their defenses even more.
    For now, Mark was as safe as he could be, safe and being kept from all visitors…including cops and friends. Until they had the withdrawal symptoms and the seizures under control, Mark’s visitations would be very, very limited. And very controlled.
    When Dez showed up and came to stand beside him at the window, he spared her a quick glance.
    “She looks like she’s had her heart ripped out,” Taylor said, his voice flat.
    Dez sighed. “It’s only going to get worse. Wait until he confesses that he knew three of his friends had killed Tristan and he hadn’t done anything about it.”
    “Fuck.” He shoved a hand through his hair and shook his head. “ Why ? Damn it, why didn’t he say anything?”
    “He was scared. Tristan, the kid who brought me here, he was the guy everybody liked; everybody respected him. Or almost everybody. Some of the kids were even scared shitless of him—on their own, they wouldn’t have messed with him. You don’t expect that kind of guy to become a target, but that’s what they did—they targeted him, plotted his death, carried it out, made it look like he’d merrily had a poisoned cocktail. They got away with it, too. Mark was scared it would happen to him. In his shoes, how do we know we wouldn’t have done the same?”
    “You wouldn’t.” Taylor snorted and shook his head. Then he sighed. “But in the end, he did the right thing…and I think he knew they would try to do something. They still might. Telling you took guts.” He paused, then added, “There’s somebody watching over him. It’s not a cop from the department, though.”
    Dez narrowed her eyes. “What do you mean, it’s not a cop ?”
    “Calm down. It’s actually better this way. Right now, everything is still quiet—nobody knows but his family, you…and this friend they got on the door. An ex-cop,” he said, a faint smile tugging at his lips. “Retired from Louisville and moved back home a few years ago. And it’s somebody who volunteered—a guy by the name of Luther—he works with him at the hotel. He’s friends with the family and when he heard about what happened, he showed up here, offered to watch over him. Seems like he’d suspected something was bothering the kid.”
    “Ex-cop. Cop. Same thing.” She reached up to toy with the chain at her neck, a worried look on her face. “We’re sure we can trust him?”
    Taylor gave a short nod. “I’m sure. You’ll probably feel better if you talk to him, get a read on him yourself. But he’s got a look in his eyes. He’s pissed. Good and pissed. Anybody wants to hurt that kid, they’ll have to go through him. He’s already kicking himself for not realizing how bad the kid was messed up