Dead Renegade by Victoria Houston Read Free Book Online

something wrong. But I know now that I wasn’t really. For reasons that we’ll never know, Mom was just short on affection. I suppose that’s not the worst thing a parent can do, but I do worry about one thing that may have happened because I was afraid of making her mad …
    “Do you remember the night I ran home from the skating rink? When I was so upset?”
    “Yes. You’d been in a fight with one of your friends. You kids were always hitting each other with snowballs—”
    “It wasn’t that.”
    And then Mallory told Osborne about how the red car had pulled up, the man asking his questions, talking low so she had to approach the car whereupon he tried to grab her. She was able to pull away but not before he threatened her.
    Osborne was stunned. “Wait a minute. That really happened? For heaven’s sake, Mallory, why didn’t you tell your mother and me?”
    “Oh, Dad, it’s what we’re saying about Mom,” said Mallory. “We loved her even if she was always critical. That night I was sure she would say it was my fault. Like I shouldn’t have been out so late. Or I must have said something or done something to cause it to happen. Kids … right or wrong, kids think it’s their fault. And he did tell me he would kill you and Mom if I said anything.”
    “Oh, my God,” Osborne had said. “All right, I can see not telling your mother. But me? Why didn’t you tell me?”
    “Dad,” Mallory had said, tipping her head towards him, “Mom ran the show. Not you.
    “But you know what has worried me most all these years? Something I was finally able to work through with my shrink, though it still haunts me: haw many other little kids got hurt by that creep because I didn’t say something that night? ’

    Osborne accelerated so hard coming out of the intersection his tires spun. Could it be that Bobby Shradtke was out of prison? Molesting youngsters again?
    He had to see Lew as soon as possible. Forget the reunion party, he needed advice. A little girl had woken up this morning innocent. Was it already too late? He could only hope she had not been touched.
    If she had, then he would need help—to keep from doing something he should not do.

CHAPTER 9
    G azing out the window to his left as he sat in Edna Schradtke’s living room, Kenny watched the Subaru slow to a stop across the street. He shifted in his chair, hoping to get a good look at the driver, but the sun reflecting off the driver’s side windows made it impossible to see. After a long pause, the Subaru drove off. Kenny shrugged. Probably just someone taking a call on a cell phone.
    He turned back to the man sitting on the sofa across the room. If eight years of hard time had damaged Big Bobby Schradtke, you sure couldn’t see it. He was still six feet tall and all angles—thin as he’d been as a teenager and with that head that looked like it had been in the wrong place when someone slammed a heavy door.
    It had struck Kenny years ago that the distance between Bobby’s ears was too short while the length of his head from chin to hairline was too long. A hairdo that hinted of a 1950s ducktail didn’t help either. Then there were his eyes, which looked like they’d been slipped onto his face kinda sideways. Yep, Bobby was one weird-looking dude when they were kids, and just as peculiar now. Guys at the bar were always surprised to hear he and Ron were brothers.

    The living room, tidy and spare with the one sofa, two maple end tables holding lamps and three chairs, including Edna’s rocker, was stifling in the summer heat despite the open windows. Didn’t seem to bother Edna or her parakeet, both of whom were fixated on Oprah. So Kenny sat and sweated, watching Edna’s fingers weave together a crochet needle and a line of bright red yarn while her sons talked over the sound of the TV as they worked their way through a case of Bud.
    “So, Bobby,” said Kenny when there was a lull in the brothers’ conversation, “what-ah brings you back to