“Exactly Saturday, exactly two fifty-eight a.m.”
Haley said, “You left the house at three in the morning?”
“I do it when I can’t sleep.”
“Oh, Crispin—”
“You take your Lunesta and he takes his Ambien. You know what I think about medication, Haley.”
“Being out there at night is more dangerous than medication.”
“I challenge that idea, Haley. Vehicle traffic is infrequent and I stay away from the road.”
“But in the dark, by yourself—”
“The dark is neutral. There are no people. One time I saw a raccoon. We looked at each other and went our separate ways. I’ve also seen deer. They’re afraid of me. Even the large ones.”
“I can’t believe this—where do you go in the middle of the night?”
“Early morning. Typically I walk around our backyard. Atypically when I remain wide awake, I go outside in front and walk a few paces south or a few paces north. This was the first time I had a goal and a destination.”
I said, “Wanting to make a statement.”
“A gastrointestinal statement. At dinner, I ate a lot of fiber.” To his mother: “Remember? The chili and the salad and then cereal? You approved of my having a good appetite.”
“Oh, Crispin!”
“When I saw the parents and felt better about how pathetic he and she are, I knew it was time to change the plan. The fiber was working and I made it back here just in time and used my toilet. Then I sprayed that organic orange spray you like, Haley, and took a shower and went to bed.”
His mother rocked and placed a hand on her temple. “I feel a migraine coming on, we need to end this.”
Milo said, “Just a coupla more questions. These parents, Crispin, what did they look like?”
Blank stare.
“Son—”
Haley said, “He has no idea.”
Milo said, “Tall, short, fat, skinny—”
Blank stare.
“Hair color?”
Silence.
“Clothing?”
No response.
“Is there anything you can recall?”
Emotionless head shake.
From voluble to mute. As if the boy’s brain waves had changed.
Haley Moman got between Milo and her son. “This isover.You have to leavenow.”
