Page 11 of No Child of Mine

“Don’t play dumb, boy, it was drugs and you know it.” The man dropped a hotdog on a bun and threw it on a paper plate. He slapped the plate in front of Benny and a second later, added a can of grape soda. Then he pulled a long knife from a wooden block on the counter, and leaned over Benny with a weird little smile on his face. He waved the knife around in the air, then ran his finger along the edge. He chuckled.

He slid the blade between Benny’s wrists and the tape. “Sharp, ain’t it?”

Benny tore his gaze from the man’s face and focused on the blade.Don’t move. Don’t move.He felt the cool metal slide along his skin. A sob burbled up in his throat.

The man cut the tape with a jerk. “Ain’t got no chips. Have to make do.”

“That’s okay.” Benny swallowed another hiccupping sob and sank against the chair. He grabbed the hotdog, his mouth watering. He froze. His hands were black with dirt and grease. Mr. Daniel always made Benny wash his hands before he ate, even if they didn’t look dirty. The man wasn’t going to let him wash up, and he was awful hungry.

His gaze dropped from his hands to the black, oily patches on his pants. Something from the trunk of the car had stained his church pants. One of the knees had a rip in it. Mr. Daniel would have to buy a new pair. Pants cost a lot of money.

When Mr. Daniel found Benny, he might send him back. A sob rumbled up inside Benny.Stop it.He wasn’t a baby. He bit into the hotdog. It was still cold in the middle. A chunk stuck in his throat. What did the man mean, drugs? Mom said they were presents. They always gave him money to give to Mom. She said they were giving the presents to someone else, paying her to buy the presents for them. She called it being their personal shopper. It made him feel bad. His mom never shopped for him. She never gave him presents.

The man plopped into the chair across the table. “You know, when this is over, maybe we’ll go fishing.”

Benny didn’t know what to say so he nodded and kept chewing. When it was over, would he still be with this man? It wouldn’t be over then, would it?

“Yeah, I never had no daddy neither, when I was a kid. I always wanted a daddy to take me fishing.” The man took a long swig from a brown beer bottle. He burped and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “You like fishing, boy?”

“Yeah.” The hotdog wouldn’t go down. It stayed in his throat, gagging him. He liked fishing with Mr. Ray and Marco at the ranch. He wanted to go home. Go fishing.

“Me, too. I used to pretend I was fishing with my daddy. My mama would never say who he was, though. Musta been an okay dude. Had me, right?” The man cackled. “Yeah, I like to fish. Played some ball, too. You play basketball?”

The man didn’t look mean anymore. He looked like a regular guy, talking about basketball. Benny loved basketball. Marco liked it best so he tried to teach Benny all the moves. The lay-ups and teardrops and stuff like that. Benny didn’t play as well as his buddy, but he tried. “Yeah, I play.”

“I played in high school. At South San. Had some college scouts look at me. Junior college in the valley. Places like that. Busted my knee. After that school sucked, so I quit. Better things to do. Make money. Lotsa money.”

If he made a lot of money, why did he live in this house? Benny knew better than to ask that question out loud. He’d learned the hard way from being around his mom. Things didn’t always make sense, but it was best not to ask why.

“Don’t turn up your nose at me, boy.” The man’s face switched to the mean look again. “Yeah, I got into the dope. But so did you. You know you been delivering crack fortu mamaever since she got you that bike at the sheriff’s repo auction, right?”

Benny chewed and tried to swallow. He couldn’t answer so he shrugged.

“Play dumb, boy. That’s okay. You just like me. Just like me. You won’t be running to the cops or trying to get away ’cause you just like me.”

Benny wanted to say no, he wanted to yell, but he was too scared. He wasn’t like the man. He didn’t know he’d done something bad. His mom never told him. The cops would understand that. Fear boiled up inside him. Maybe not. Maybe they’d put him in jail like his mom.

He tried not to cry, but tears formed. He dashed his hand across his face. He wasn’t scared. He wasn’t bad. He was good. Mr. Daniel said so. He wanted to yell at the man, tell him Mr. Daniel said so. The man had a gun. Benny stayed quiet.

“You don’t know who I am, do you, boy?”

“No, sir.”

A big smile creased the man’s face.

“I’m your daddy.”

* * *

Daniel threw his suit in the backseat of the Jeep. Changing into jeans and T-shirt made him feel a little better—not much, but at least the tie wasn’t strangling him. He adjusted his shoulder holster. Right or wrong, the weapon made him feel better, too. He slammed the Jeep door and started back toward Ray’s house. They had a ton of interviews to do. Maybe someone had seen something. Heard something that would help them find Benny.

“Dad!”

Daniel jerked to a stop at the sight of Phoebe picking her way on bare feet through the rocks and weeds on the road. His fourteen-year-old still wore the sleek dress she’d told him made her look grownup enough to date—a notion he’d quickly nixed—but she’d ditched the hose and heels.

“What are you doing out here,m’ija? Your mom will be looking for you.”

Phoebe balanced on one foot and picked at a pebble stuck to the other. “I’m sure she’ll show up any minute, yelling about something.” She leaned against the Jeep, her face morose. “Dad, I have to tell you something.”