“Ben!” Susan called out.

Louis stared at the kid, shaking his head.

Oh man. . don’t do this. You don’t even like kids.

Louis rose and went to the hallway. “Susan? I’ll stay with him,” he called.

Benjamin looked up at him. Susan came out of her bedroom, brush in her hand but still in her robe.

“What?” she said.

“I said I’d stay with him. No sense in dragging him out at this time of night.”

Louis looked down at Benjamin. The gratitude on the kid’s face was almost painful to see.

“I can’t ask you-”

“I don’t mind,” Louis said, motioning toward the sofa. “I’ll just sit here and watch TV. It’s no problem.”

“No, it’s not right.” She disappeared into her room, half-closing the door.

Louis looked at Benjamin. “Sorry, buddy.”

With a sigh, Benjamin dragged himself up off the floor and trudged off toward his room.

Louis could hear them both rustling around in their rooms. Finally Susan reappeared, wiggling her arms into a beige jacket. Her hair was pulled back into a knot, and she had put on lipstick.

“I’ll only be an hour,” she said.

“I thought-”

“I changed my mind. Make sure he’s in bed by ten and that he brushes his teeth after you give him that pudding in the fridge that he’ll con you out of ten minutes after I leave.”

“Okay,” Louis said.

Benjamin had come back out. He had put on jeans and T-shirt but was still barefoot.

“You can stay here,” Susan said to him.

“Yes!” He made a pumping motion with his scrawny arm.

“But don’t give Mr. Kincaid any lip, you hear?”

She was stuffing things into her briefcase. “You have my pager number. I’ll be at the jail.” She paused. “You look tired. If you feel like it, take the sofa. There’s a blanket in the closet at the end of the hall.”

“Thanks.”

She started to the door.

“Susan?”

She turned.

Louis hesitated. “I’ll find Hayley Lieberman.”

She nodded and opened the door.

“Take an umbrella,” Louis said, “it’s getting ready to rain again.”

She stared at him for a moment, then grabbed the umbrella.

“Thanks,” she said softly. Then she was gone. Louis locked the door behind her and stood looking out the window, watching her old Mercedes chug off into the darkness.

He turned. Benjamin was standing there, staring up at him.

Louis looked at his watch. “You got a half-hour. What’s on?”

Benjamin scrambled onto the sofa, dug the remote from under a cushion and started punching it. A.J. Simon was giving his slob brother Rick grief as they drove down yet another San Diego freeway in pursuit of yet another dirtbag.

“You like this show?” Louis asked, sitting down next to him.

Benjamin shrugged. “It’s junk. I’d rather watch Miami Vice. Mom won’t let me. Too much drugs.”

Louis nodded. “Where’s your bathroom?”

Benjamin pointed down the hall.

Louis started down the hall toward the bathroom, but then paused. Her bedroom door was open. He took a step, trying to see inside without being too obvious.

It was painted an off-white, with a ceiling border that swirled with browns and deep reds. The furniture was old, borderline antique. Her bed was unmade, the comforter a big, billowy thing that matched the border. There was a pile of black clothes on the floor, something lacy looking, and a wad of pantyhose.

He spotted the tape player on the bureau, and could pick up the strong scent of vanilla. He saw a candle burning on the night stand.

“Hey, Benjamin,” Louis called.

“What?”

“Your mom left a candle going in her room. Come here and blow it out.”

“Your legs broke?”

“Just get in here, please.”

Benjamin went in and blew out the candle. He gave Louis a “you’re nuts” look and started off to his own room.

“I thought you wanted to watch TV?” Louis asked.

Benjamin gestured to his clothes. “Can’t sleep in this.”

Louis followed him to the bedroom and stood at the door.

“You don’t have to watch me every minute,” Benjamin said as he wriggled out of the jeans.

“Yes I do.”

“I’m not going to run away or something.”

“Well, I’m responsible. I’m not taking any chances.” Benjamin gave him another withering look.

Louis’s eyes wandered over the boy’s bedroom. It was beige, like his mother’s, with a brown spread, tan carpet and shelves of books and toys. The ceiling was studded with little green stars that probably glowed in the dark, and eight papier-mache replicas of the planets were strung from the ceiling. There was a small telescope at the window, Star Wars posters on the walls and a gleaming saxophone sitting in a stand. The room was surprisingly neat. Nothing like his own room back at the Lawrence house had been.

“Nice room,” Louis said. “Very neat.”

“I’m not a slob,” Benjamin said. He was buttoning his pajamas, one eye on Louis as he ventured farther into the room.

“You make those?” Louis asked, pointing at the planets.

“Yeah. Science project.”

“I thought there were nine planets.”

Benjamin shook his head. “Pluto is technically not a real planet. They think it’s really an asteroid. So I left it out. I only got a B because of it. But I’m right. It’s just an asteroid.”

Louis nodded. He noticed a framed photograph on the dresser. It was of a striking black man with close-cropped hair and serious eyes. He was wearing a dark suit.

He had to ask. “That your dad?”

Benjamin was folding his clothes and he paused to glance at the photo. “Yeah. His name is Austin. He’s in England.”

So now you know, Kincaid.

“What’s he do?”

“For work? He does financial stuff, kinda like working for a bank, but he like sets up companies in foreign places. He has a lot of money, but can’t use it ’cause it’s like tied up in big buildings and Ma says he’s cash poor. Whatever that means.”

Louis was still looking at the photo. “How often does he get home?”

“Never,” Benjamin said. He tossed his sneakers into the closet. “You wanna look at Venus?”

Louis shook his head.

Benjamin plopped down on his bed. “Probably too many clouds tonight anyway.”

Louis came in and sat on the edge of the bed. “So. . your mom and your dad. .”

Don’t ask, Kincaid. It’s not right.

“They got divorced when I was little,” Benjamin said, rolling over onto his stomach. “I don’t remember him really, not in my real brain, but he sends me stuff. He sent me the telescope for Christmas and fifty dollars for my birthday. And that.” He pointed to a cast-iron replica of a double-decker bus.

“I wanted a Nintendo Super Mario, but it’s like two hundred dollars. Guess he’s too cash poor to get that. But the bus is kinda cool.”

Louis sensed a sadness in Benjamin’s voice. “You want some pudding?”

Benjamin hesitated, looking at Louis. “Can I show you something first?” he asked.

Louis shrugged. “Sure.”

“You promise not to tell my mom?”

“I don’t know. What if you show me drugs or cigarettes or-”

“Oh man. . it’s just a book.”

Great. Was the kid going to show him pornography? Maybe it was only Playboy. Bare boobs, that was normal, wasn’t it? But damn, the kid was only eleven.

Benjamin was rooting through his closet.

“Has your mom ever seen stuff like the stuff in this book?”

“All the time.”

Benjamin emerged with a large hardcover book. He brought it back to the bed and sat down next to Louis, laying the book on his small knees.

Louis had a hard time not letting his mouth hang open. The book was titled In the Presence of Evil, Mass Murderers and Serial Killers.

“Where did you get this?” Louis asked, trying to gently wrestle it away.

Benjamin held tight. “From the swap meet. I told the man my mom was a lawyer and she needed it for work.”

“Have you read it?”

“Four times.”