Don't I Know You? Read Online Free Page A

about money.”
    McGuire shook his head slowly. He was like a bear doing a trick. “Dads,” he said. “Sometimes they don’t know what they want.”
    Outside, people coming home from the bars. There was laughter. Something hit a garbage can. Steven felt bad for wanting to go to bed so much.
    â€œYou’re sure that bracelet was hers?”
    â€œShe had a lot of bracelets,” Steven said.
    McGuire nodded. “Did she drink?” he asked.
    â€œSometimes,” Steven said.
    â€œWhat did she like to drink?” McGuire asked.
    â€œI don’t know,” Steven said. “Kahlua. Sometimes she let me make Kahlua milk shakes.”
    McGuire smiled and pulled out his notebook.
    Sometimes she gave herself B-12 shots for the hangovers. It was okay, she always told Steven. She was a nurse.
    It sounded like someone was walking around in the living room. He closed his eyes and tried to remember better the sounds the guy had made in her bedroom.
    â€œWe were gonna move in with Phil,” Steven said.
    â€œOh?” McGuire said. “So I guess I was wrong.” He smiled. “Sometimes I am. Not often, but sometimes.”
    â€œIn a different town,” Steven said. Someone she knew, he thought. He thought of all the people they knew. He imagined someone doing that to her.
    â€œYou okay?” Detective McGuire said. “Getting tired?”
    â€œWe were gonna live in a town,” Steven said.
    â€œSounds good,” McGuire said.
    Someone she knew had done that to her. The guy he’d seen was someone she knew.
    â€œWe were all really happy about it,” Steven said.
    McGuire nodded. “You should be,” he said.
    Detective Adams came in. “You about all done?” he asked.
    McGuire stood up. He held the edge of the table like he was thinking about lifting it.
    â€œWhere’s Phil?” Steven said.
    â€œI told him to go home; get some rest,” Adams said. “We all need some rest. He said he’d call you in the morning.”
    â€œWhere do I go?” Steven asked.
    Adams checked his notebook. “Christine Mahoney?”
    Christine from the hospital. Another nurse. His mother always listed her under Person to Contact in the Case of an Emergency.
    â€œShe’s on her way,” Adams said.
    â€œC’mon,” McGuire said, “we can wait out on the stoop. Get some air.”
    The lobby was empty. There was no one on the street. Steven had no idea what time it was. It was still warm, but cooler than in the apartment. Detective Adams said he’d see McGuire back at the precinct. He told Steven he had his condolences. He gave him his card.
    Steven and McGuire sat on the bottom step, their knees up high.
    When he walked with his mother, she would sometimes put her fingertips on the edge of his hood or the back of his collar. After a while, he knew to look ahead, knowing there’d be something she’d seen, something she was watching out for.
    â€œWhat next?” Steven said.
    McGuire rubbed his eyes with the heel of his hand. “You’ll have to go ID the body,” he said. “Someone can go with you.”
    Steven looked at the toes of his sneakers. The rubber was wearing away. He could see his socks.
    â€œHow will you find out what you need to find out?” he asked.
    â€œThere’ll be an autopsy; that’ll help,” McGuire said.
    Steven waited.
    â€œWe’ll talk to her friends, to the neighbors.”
    Steven must’ve looked skeptical. McGuire said he’d rather canvas this kind of neighborhood than the East Side any day. “People hang out windows all day here,” he said.
    He was right.
    â€œThey might not tell us anything right away,” he said. “Maybe they want to talk to a friend before they say anything. Maybe they just need a little prodding, a little encouragement.” He said it took patience. He rubbed his hands like he was putting lotion on