A Living Grave by Robert E. Dunn

be?”
    â€œYou kind of went away for a second, there. I wondered—”
    â€œI should go inside. I need to see what’s taking Danny so long.”
    â€œOkay, Carrie. If you think you should. But I wanted to ask you something first.”
    She had scooted down off the hood of the car and I noticed how low her jeans were riding on her bony little hips. The panties that peeked out of the waistband had cartoon bears on them. A little girl trying so hard to be a woman; or a girl, older than she should be, reaching back for childhood?
    I stepped out of the truck to show I would follow her if she tried to go into the store. She got the message and stood beside the car.
    â€œI need you to tell me about the man called Leech.”
    â€œMy mother told me not to talk to you about things. She said I didn’t have to unless she was around.” She spit the words out quickly and without thought. She had practiced saying them, I was sure.
    â€œIt’s true,” I told her. “You don’t have to talk unless we make it all official and bring you in and call your parents.” I let that sink in a moment before continuing. “Is that what you want? Or would you like to help me find out what happened to your friend?”
    Carrie crossed her arms and looked back at the storefront, then to the sky and back to the ground. “She wasn’t my friend, okay?”
    I wondered if her surliness was about guilt or fear. “Even if she wasn’t, wouldn’t you want to help find her killer?”
    â€œWhat would I know about it?”
    â€œI’m not saying you know anything about it. But you know something about that man, Leech.”
    â€œSo?”
    â€œSo it might help me to understand what happened if I knew something about him.”
    Her arms were crossed over her chest and she kept looking off into the street or into the store window, avoiding me and the word. Afraid of being caught talking or hoping for rescue? “Carrie—”
    â€œI don’t know.”
    â€œRemember what I said about trust, Carrie. You can trust me. I just want to help you.”
    â€œNo one helps anybody. I’ve got my own help and it’s none of your business.”
    â€œWhat help, Carrie?” No answer. “Can you tell me why you need help?” She looked ready to cry. “Does it have something to do with this Leech?”
    Carrie reached down to the car hood and, with a finger, wrote the name in the grime. Leech. As soon as it was complete she swept away most of the word with the palm of her hand. “You don’t understand anything,” she said.
    â€œHelp me to understand, Carrie. I’ve been looking for him. Can you tell me his real name?”
    She grinned like she knew a secret but only for a second before she dropped it and said, “No.”
    â€œAre you afraid of him?”
    She nodded, then quickly said, “That’s not why I can’t tell you. I don’t know.”
    â€œIs Danny afraid of him too?”
    Carrie nodded again.
    â€œHas he threatened you?”
    â€œWhy can’t you just catch him and put him in jail?”
    â€œBecause I need information. I don’t know if he did anything. I don’t even know his name.”
    â€œHe killed Angela.”
    I looked at her and she turned away to look at the dirty car hood again.
    â€œDo you know that for sure? Did you see it?”
    Still looking down, she shook her head.
    â€œDo you know anything I can use in court?” I asked.
    â€œI know he’s bad. I know he did it.”
    â€œHow?”
    â€œI just do. Because I hate him.” Then she looked up and past me. Danny had just come out of the hardware store with a bag. She leaped at him.
    â€œWhat’s going on?” he asked. The question was quiet and addressed to Carrie, but he wasn’t taking his gaze off of me. Carrie whispered something to him and his eyes turned down to look at the hood of