Chapter 4: Kieran's Shop

Ronan did not ask me to stay in the house.

He took the phone out of my hand, listened to Kieran breathing on the other end, and said, "Where?"

I told him the address.

Ten minutes later we were in the back of the car again.

I was in a wet coat, with a cut on my knee from the slate.

Kieran worked at Dorchester Auto Body, a cinder-block shop under a rail bridge.

The roll-up door was half open and a light was on.

Two men in leather jackets leaned on a Honda with its hood up.

My brother stood between them and the office, holding a wrench.

"Stay here," Ronan said.

I opened my door.

"No."

He looked at me over his shoulder, and I saw him decide not to argue.

We crossed the lot together.

The taller of the two men was chewing gum.

"Look at that," he said. "The sister. Declan said she might show."

"Declan's a thoughtful man," Ronan said.

The gum stopped.

The man took a long look at the face in the shop light, the gray streak, the cold eyes.

The color left his cheeks.

"No," he said. "You can't be."

"Say it."

"You're dead."

"So I hear," said Ronan. "Whose idea was the visit tonight?"

Nobody answered.

My brother had not moved, and he had not looked at me.

He was looking at Ronan.

Kieran was freckled and sandy-haired, twenty-two years old, and he had gone white to the lips.

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