"Tell me," Marcus said.
She told him.
Owen’s big brother Tyler, who was fourteen, had an airsoft rifle, a black one, a replica of some military thing, with the orange safety tip on the barrel that the law required. Except Tyler had painted the tip black with a Sharpie because he thought it looked stupid, and he had left the rifle on the Halvorsens’ back deck, and that afternoon after Loretta picked the boys up from school Owen had carried it across the yard and the two of them had played army in the Reeds’ front garden, hiding behind the big boxwood by the mailbox and popping up to ambush the cars that came around the curve of Larkspur Court.
"There aren’t many cars," Danielle said. "It’s a cul-de-sac. The FedEx van. Mrs. Okafor. And then a county car."
"A sheriff."
"A deputy. Coming round to turn in the circle, the way they do. And Caleb popped up from behind the hedge with that thing and pointed it at the car." She pressed her hands harder against the table. "Owen told me. I went over to the Halvorsens’ after. Owen said the car slowed right down. Almost stopped. He said the man inside looked at them for a long time. And then he drove on. He went round the circle and drove out and that was it."
That was it. Marcus stood at the counter with his hand flat beside the passport wallet and felt the hood of the cruiser against his cheek, the heat of it, felt a hand on the back of his neck.
"Your mother saw it from the front window," Danielle said. "Owen said she came out of the house like—he said like a fire. Like she was on fire. She took that thing out of Caleb’s hands and threw it in the hedge and she grabbed him by the arm and took him inside, and Owen ran home. And then she went into her room and got your father’s belt."
"She still has it."