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eezed halfway out of their sockets by the pressure of the rope； giving him a goggle…eyed stare that would last until the eyeballs fell into the cranial cavity。
Zach folded the autopsy reports and jammed them back into the envelope。 It was as if Trevor had imagined the scene so many times that it was imprinted on these sheets of paper like some sort of psychic snapshot。 Zach glanced over his shoulder again； but the doorway was still empty。 He wasn't sure if he had been afraid of seeing Trevor； or something worse。
Enough snooping for now。 It was making him jumpy。 He put the envelope back and found a fat paperback book in the very bottom of the bag。 Thou Shall Not Kill was the true tale of a man named John List who had calmly and systematically murdered five members of his family… wife； mother； two sons； and a daughter…and then disappeared for eighteen years。 The back cover said they had caught him through the TV show America's Most Wanted。
The book fell open in Zach's hands to page 281； where the spine was cracked。 List was killing his older son； fifteen…year…old Johnny。 He'd struggled with the boy in the kitchen； shot him in the back as he ran down the hall； caught up with him and shot him nine more times as he tried to crawl away from his father toward some imagined safety。
Zach checked out Johnny's school picture in the section of photographs at the center of the book。 A skinny； grinning kid with badly cut dark hair and birth…control glasses and ears that stuck out goofily。 Looked like a hundred puter geeks Zach had known； not so different from how he had looked at fifteen。 This shit could happen to anybody。
He sat down at the table and began to read about the Lists。 He didn't usually read this kind of thing； but it was a pretty interesting story。 They didn't find List's family until a month later； lined up on sleeping bags in the giant ballroom； their bodies black and swollen。
When it grew too dark to see the page； Zach got up and switched the overhead light on without thinking about it。 He read for two hours； until he heard stirring and yawning from the bedroom。
Trevor appeared in the kitchen doorway； his hair rumpled and tangled； knuckling sleep from his eyes。 He had put on a pair of baggy black sweatpants but remained shirtless。 〃Was I out long？〃
〃Couple hours。 I thought you could use it。〃
〃Why are you reading that？〃
Zach put the book down。 〃Why are you？ I mean； it's none of my business； but it seems a little depressing for someone in your situation。〃
Trevor pulled out the other chair and sat down at the table。 〃I always read books like that。 I keep hoping 〃one of them will make me understand why the guy did it。〃
〃Any luck？〃
〃No。〃 Suddenly Trevor looked up； speared him with those eyes。 〃Anyway； I meant why are you reading that book that was in my bag？ I didn't say you could go in my bag。〃
Zach held up his hands。 〃Sorry。 I just wanted something to read； and you were asleep。 I didn't touch anything else。〃
Great。 They'd make a perfect pair： a professional snoop and a privacy freak。 Zach guessed now was probably not the best time to tell Trevor how much he had liked the drawings in his sketchbook； and he didn't think he'd better mention the autopsy reports at all。
Trevor still didn't look happy about the matter； but let it drop。 He noticed Zach's Post…it notes； peeled one off the table and read it。 〃What's this？〃
〃A phone card number。〃
〃What's it for？〃
〃Making phone calls。〃
Trevor gave Zach a look； but decided to let this pass too。 〃Are you hungry？〃
〃Starved。〃
They retrieved Kinsey's can of ravioli from under the couch and ate it cold with forks scrounged out of a kitchen drawer。 It was awful； but Zach felt better after he had choked it down。 He watched Trevor drink two Cokes the way some guys drank beer； putting the stuff away with more regard for quick chemical effect than thirst or taste。 He was starting to think he could watch Trevor all night。
〃Do you want something else？〃 he asked； thinking they might go out to the diner。
Trevor looked at him rather sheepishly。 〃Could I 。。。〃
Anything； Zach wanted to say； but settled for 〃What？〃
〃Could I have some more of that pot？〃
Zach laughed and fished the half…burnt joint out of his pocket。 It was a bit damp； but fired up fine。 〃I thought you weren't used to it；〃 he said。
〃I'm not。 I never really liked it before。 But my dad used to smoke a lot back when he was drawing； and I just thought 。 。 。〃
〃What？〃 Zach asked gently。 〃That you could figure out why he stopped？〃
Trevor shrugged。 〃If I really wanted to figure that out； I'd start drinking whiskey。 Bobby used to say pot made him more creative； and after he went dry； he wouldn't smoke even when Momma tried to make him。 It was like he didn't even want to try anymore。〃
〃Maybe he just knew it was gone no matter what he did。〃
〃Maybe。〃
They sat at the table talking and smoking。 As Trevor passed him the joint； Zach noticed the tracery of slightly raised white scars on his left forearm。 He had to put some on the outside； Zach thought； to match the ones on the inside。 But he didn't yet know Trevor well enough to say that。 Instead he talked of New Orleans； the daytime bustle of the French Market； the way the cobblestone streets looked at night under the gas lamps all black and gold； the neon smear of Bourbon Street； the river like a dirty brown vein pulsing through the city。
At last they both began to yawn。 Trevor stood up； stretched hugely。 Zach watched the loose sweatpants ride low on the ridges of his hipbones； then wondered why he was staring； he'd already seen it all this afternoon。 〃Do you want to crash here？〃
Finally。 〃That'd be great。〃
〃You can have the big bedroom。 There's a mattress and； uh 。 。 。〃 Trevor stared at the floor。 〃Nobody died in there or anything。〃
Zach hadn't expected an invitation to bed down with Trevor； was still trying to convince himself he didn't want one。 But he couldn't help feeling disappointed as he said good night and left the kitchen。
He untied his sneakers； took off his glasses； and was about to lie down on the sagging double mattress when he realized that his head and back were throbbing in tandem。 He'd been running on pure adrenaline for more than twenty…four hours； now the pot and the long drive had finally kicked in to give him the great…granddaddy of all body aches； and he hadn't brought any kind of medicine。
He padded down the hall to Trevor's room； saw that the light was still on； and tapped at the door。 〃Do you have any aspirin？〃
Trevor was sprawled in bed reading the John List book。 〃Yeah； I think so。〃 He sat up and rummaged in his bag； came up with a single white pill。 〃Here you go。 I think this is my last one。〃
〃Thanks。 G'night again。〃 Zach went to the kitchen and drank from the faucet； put the pill in his mouth； and washed it down。 A chill ran along his spine as he passed the hall doorway and returned to his room。 It was dank and dim； empty except for the mattress and some moldering cardboard boxes in the shadowed recesses of the closet； the window an inky rectangle beaded with rain。
For the fi