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“Alex Deighton,” Thom said.
Jason made a face, keeping his lips together and lowering his chin, then said, “So... you’re happy?”
“No, I’m not happy, Jason. He died.”
Jason put up a hand and said, “Sorry. I mean... it’s not like you liked him, though. Right, Mom?”
“You can keep me out of this,” Wendy said, although she thought her son had a point.
“Just because I didn’t like him doesn’t mean that I’m happy he’s dead, Jason.”
“Yeah, yeah, I know.” The book he was carrying was a threadbare copy ofTintin in Tibet, his favorite. Wendy noticed that he was carrying it with a finger slid between its pages as though he’d come into her office to show her something, probably an illustration he loved or a joke he thought was funny. At thirteen, Jason had suddenly started rereading all his childhood favorites, despite the fact that he was on the cusp of puberty. It was a strange reversion.
“Is Linda calling everyone in the department?”
“That’s what she said.”
“You should call Marcia.”
“I should, shouldn’t I?”
“How’d he die?” Jason said.
“He drowned.”
“Are you serious? Where?”
“I didn’t get a lot of details, but you know the swimming quarry?”
“Which one?”
“Blood Stone. We went there once with Justine and her kids, remember?”
“He was five years old,” Wendy said.
“I remember,” Jason said. “There’s a car at the bottom of it.”
“I don’t know about that—”
“No, there is. Timmy said he saw it. He went there with a snorkel once and told me that he saw it.”
“Okay, well, Alex swims there every morning, used to, anyway, and I guess he drowned.”
“How’d he drown?”
“I don’t know. I just heard about this myself. Jason—”
“Will you get his job?”
“Jesus H, I haven’t even thought about that. Who knows? Maybe. Maybe not.”
“Why’d you come in here, Jason?” Wendy said.
“Oh, I was going to show you something, but it doesn’t matter now.”
Thom noticed the book in Jason’s hand and said, “Aren’t you too old to be reading that?”
Jason shrugged and said, “Never too old to revisit the classics, Dad.”