“Yeah.” Jordan walked with his head down, the flat lid of his backwards-baseball cap pointing up at a moonlit sky.
“How are you feeling about it?”
“It’s sad, like you say.”
“Obviously I didn’t know him that well, but he took the time to welcome me. Suicide is a terrible thing, an awful thing.”
“I know. How can you hang yourself? That’s, like, hard to do.”
“It must be.” Chris didn’t explain that, in fact, the opposite was true. It wasn’t that difficult to hang yourself, and if the ligature were positioned correctly, it wouldn’t be suffocation that would be fatal, but the breaking of the hyoid bone at the base of the throat, crushing the windpipe.
“God, it sucks,” Jordan said, as they approached the restaurant. “It’s so hard to believe that Mr. Y is dead. It’s, like, final. You can’t change it or take it back.”
“Right, I know.” Chris had actually had the same thought about death. That it was final, and forever. “It’s difficult to wrap your mind around.”
“Is this place any good?” Evan asked, still texting as Chris opened the door to the restaurant, which was packed.
“My mom likes it,” Jordan said, and Chris felt a twinge at the mention of Heather. He pointed at an empty table, and a harried waitress gave him a nod. They went over and sat down at a tiled circle, fitting with the island scheme of the restaurant.
Chris eyed both boys, but only Jordan was paying attention. “Sorry you had to practice this morning, guys. I was surprised that Coach Hardwick held it after the news about Mr. Y.”
Jordan nodded sadly, but didn’t reply. Chris could see Heather’s features in her son’s face, the warmth of her eyes and the shyness of her smile. He wondered what it would be like to have Jordan as a son. Or to have a son at all.
Evan glanced up. “Coach Hardwick holds practice, no matter what. I think his wife could die and we’d still have practice.”
“Jordan, Evan, you know, the school’s worried that any time you have a suicide, you guys are going to start getting strange ideas. They’re going to have grief counselors there on Monday.” Chris wasn’t lying. He’d already gotten a flurry of emails from Dr. McElroy informing the CVHS community of Abe’s death and setting up preventative counseling for CVHS students. “Do I have to worry about you guys? You wanna talk about it?”
“You don’t have to worry about me, Coach.” Jordan managed a smile.
“Me, either,” Evan said, still texting away, his thumbs flying.
“I’m glad to hear that. But just let me know, don’t be ashamed. Everybody gets down sometimes, when you just don’t feel like yourself.” Chris sensed he was talking about himself, but stayed on track. He needed information about his four suspects—Evan, Raz, Trevor, and Dylan. “You know, being new, I don’t know the team very well, but what about some of the other guys? Raz, for example. And Trevor and Dylan?”
Jordan sighed. “Raz was upset, but I don’t think he would ever do anything like that. I hope not, but since his dad died, you know, he’s been down.”
“No way, he wouldn’t.” Evan shook his head as he texted.
“I’ll keep an eye on Raz. I know he’s got some trouble at home he’s dealing with, so this is a hard time. But I’ve got his back.”
“Good, Coach.” Jordan smiled, and Chris wanted him reassured so that the two boys didn’t become close again. Raz was on Chris’s list of suspects and had chosen the Bill-of-Rights side in Chris’s classroom exercise. The profile of his suspect would be a kid with a grudge against the government, which had been Timothy McVeigh’s motivation in blowing up the Alfred P. Murrah Federal Building in Oklahoma City.
“Jordan, tell me about Trevor. He’s a helluva third baseman, and I got to talk to him a little at the game. What’s he like?”
“Beef, he’s a nice guy,” Jordan answered, as the waitress came over with a tray of water glasses, setting them in front of them with a hurried “be right back,” which made Chris think about Heather.
I quit my job!
Suddenly Evan looked up from his phone with an excited grin. “Dude! Looks like Brittany freed up. She wants me to come over.”
Jordan’s gaze shifted sideways. “You mean Miss Booty Call?”
“Ha! Coach, you mind if I bounce? She goes to a different school, and I never get to see her. Check her out.” Evan scrolled through his phone, swiping through photos, then held one up of a pretty blonde making a duck-face kiss. “I mean, you feel me? This girl is haaawwwt!”
“Go ahead, Evan. As between me or her, I’d choose her too.” Chris turned to Jordan. “I’m assuming you guys took Evan’s new car. If you did, I can take you home, so Evan can go.”
“Uh, okay.” Jordan smiled. “We did take his car. He loves that car. He’d sleep in it if he could.”
“Dude, you love my ride, too.” Evan jumped up. “Coach, sorry. Later, Jordan.” Evan took off, leaving Jordan alone with Chris, who paused before he resumed the conversation.
“How about Evan? You ever worry about him becoming depressed?”
“No, are you kidding?” Jordan looked at Chris like he was crazy. “He has too much to live for. He’s dating, like, four girls in rotation.”
“He’s got a varsity and a JV?”
“Hell, he’s got a farm team.”
“Ha!” Chris wanted to know more about Evan, who was on his suspect list. “He seems like a pretty happy guy to me. Is he?”
“Yes, totally. He’s, like, so popular.”
“But Mr. Y was popular, so that doesn’t tell you anything.”
“Right.” Jordan’s face fell.
“What’s Evan like?”
“Like what you see. Easy, cool. I’m not that friendly with him, but he’s got nothing to be bummed about. His family is rich, and his dad is a big deal. They belong to the country club my mom works at, er, quit from.”
“She told me. Good for her.”
“Right.” Jordan brightened. “She hated that job.”
Chris felt fleetingly the warmth of the bond he shared with Jordan, especially in Heather, but he put her out of his mind. “So does Evan have a lot of friends outside of school?”