Blood Trail by Nancy Springer Read Free Book Online

keep anything to yourself in Pinto River. That detective had to tell other cops, and the way this town works, he might as well have used a megaphone. Of course everybody knew. And now they were taking sides, and everybody who was friends with the Gingriches hated me. I half hated myself.
    The guy on the phone snarled, “No, shooting’s too good for you, lying snitch. As if that poor family don’t have trouble enough already. Ain’t you got no decency?”
    Apparently all the decent people of Pinto River just absolutely knew that some outsider killed Aaron.
    The guy told me, “I hope the psycho who killed that poor boy does you the same way.”
    I dropped the phone like it was a timber rattlesnake, but I could still hear the guy shouting. My lump sister must have heard too, because she rolled to the edge of her bed, snagged the phone off the floor, said into it, “Get a life,” and hung up. “Jeez,” she said.
    The phone rang again. From Mom’s room came her sleepy, grouchy voice. “Jeremy, who the—”
    I hollered, “Mom, you answer it!”
    â€œJust let it ring!” Jamy yelled.
    â€œ What? ” As the phone kept ringing, Mom showed up at the bedroom door, pulling her bathrobe on. “Who?”
    I didn’t know how to explain, so I picked up the phone and handed it to her. It was the same guy. I could hear him from where I stood. Mom’s face changed, and she said, “Sir, I am going to call the police.” But he just got louder. Mom hung up on him and pulled out the phone jack. She looked at me. “What’s he talking about?”
    She’d asked me at supper how the polygraph went, but I’d just rolled my eyes at her and asked her to pass the ketchup. Didn’t want to talk about it. Now I mumbled, “My guess is, I was in the late news.”
    Jamy said, “Huh?” and sat up staring at me.
    Mom said, “For what?”
    â€œFor what the damn lie detector made me say, damn it.”
    â€œExcuse me?”
    â€œAaron said—” I could barely get it out. “That day—when Aaron said he was scared—I asked him what was the matter, and he said—” I couldn’t go on.
    â€œHe said what? ” Jamy demanded.
    Mom told me, kind of like the detective, “Jeremy, just take a deep breath and spit it out.”
    I whispered, “Nathan.”
    For a minute Mom and Jamy just stared. Then Jamy said, “Oh … my … God.”
    And Mom did something I never expected. She walked over and hugged me.
    I didn’t want anybody touching me. I yelped, “Mom, get off.”
    She stood back. “I was just thinking of the Gingriches,” she said, her voice wavery. “Those poor people, they’ve lost a child, and … and they might lose another …”
    The Gingriches. Memories. Mrs. Gingrich baking snickerdoodles for Halloween, handing me a plateful warm out of the oven and saying, “Jeremy, sample these for me, would you, and see if they’re any good?” Knowing darn well I’d eat every one of them. Then Mr. Gingrich coming in and saying, “Eat up, son. How did practice go today?”
    Oh, my God.
    It hit me like a rock, what I’d done to them. I guess I’d been kind of hoping the Gingriches wouldn’t have to know.
    Mom said, “Jeremy? You okay?”
    I whispered, “They’re going to hate me.”
    Mom sighed, then said quietly, “Probably. But you had to tell the truth. You should have told the truth to start with.”
    The brat butted in. “That’s really what Aaron said? He was afraid of Nathan?”
    â€œYes, damn it! Shut up!”
    â€œJeremy!” Mom hushed me. “Shhhh.”
    But my stupid sister didn’t shhhh. She kind of squeaked, “Oh, my God, what if Aardy … Oh my God, I’ve got to talk with her.” Like she hadn’t been leaving messages on the