The Forgotten. Faye Kellerman

we attracted quite a crowd. For a while, I was worried that someone was going to report me to the authorities—the real authorities, not you. Which would have been the correct thing to do. But no one did. All of them … the convictions of a turnip.”

      Silence.

      Jacob said, “Being arrested would have been consistent with my self-image. I was in the nadir period of my life. I was smoking weed and taking pills and screwing around and screwing up. I was out of control. Thank God, you got to me first.” He looked up. “That’s a compliment.”

      “Thank you.” Decker stared at him, as if looking at a stranger. “You didn’t tell me you were taking pills.”

      He waved Decker off.

      “What else didn’t you tell me?”

      Jacob threw his head back. “You’re a good guy, Dad. You try to be understanding. But even good guys have their limits.” He faced his stepfather. “I’m scaring the hell out of you, aren’t I?”

      “Yes, you are.”

      “I hate everything and everyone,” Jacob said. “I’m furious all the time. But I’m the problem, not the world. I’m trying to channel it all into constructive endeavors. Probably sounds like a crock of crud to you, but it’s true.”

      Decker was quiet.

      Jacob looked away. “I really am trying. For Eema, especially, because she deserves better. I haven’t touched anything chemical beyond an aspirin in six months. I’m doing well in school. I’m still working the suicide hot line once a week. I feed the homeless once a month. I am trying! But it’s hard!”

      Decker put his hand on his son’s shoulder. He leaned over and kissed his forehead. “What can I do for you, Jacob?”

      He shook his head. “I guess you can just keep doing what you’re doing. Like not freaking when I tell you these things.”

      “It’s hard,” Decker said. “Inside, I’m freaking pretty badly.”

      The teen pushed his plate away and closed the book. “You’ve seen a lot of psychos in your day, right?”

      “Right.”

      “Do I fit the profile?”

      Decker didn’t dare contemplate the thought. “No.”

      Jacob smiled with watery eyes. “You’re just being nice.”

      “You have a conscience,” Decker said. “Psychos don’t. But that doesn’t mean that you couldn’t do damage if you blew.”

      “I know that.”

      “Were you just spouting off at Ruby Ranger or did you really mean it?”

      “At the time, I think I really meant it. She’s a bad person. She defends people like Hitler and Stalin and Pol Pot. When I threatened her, she played it real cool. In truth, I think she liked it. I know she liked it. She got excited—aroused. Her nipples got hard.”

      “That could have been fear.”

      “It was a sexual thing, Dad. Believe me, I know. These people … they are so rich, so privileged. Nothing is novel to them, so they’re always looking for kicks. When drugs don’t do it anymore, they move on to other things. Ruby Ranger thinks mass murderers and serial killers are misunderstood geniuses. Do I think she’s behind the vandalism after what Lisa told me—that she and Ernesto are playing the mating game? Absolutely! I wouldn’t be surprised if Ruby did it just to get to me, that she was waiting for me to come after her with a gun. She’s probably all wet and horny about it—”

      “Jacob, please!”

      “I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” He covered his face. “I’m such a pain in the butt.”

      “You’re not a pain … yeah, you are a pain. You’re very worrisome. I’m stymied. I don’t know what to do.”

      “Don’t worry. I’m not going to do anything stupid, I promise you.”

      “Are you being open with Dr. Gruen, Jake?”

      “Bit by bit. Like I am with you. I tell him partial truths until I get the nerve to tell him the whole truth. He can tell what I’m doing, but lets me go at my own pace. He’s much better than the first one. I didn’t like her at all.”

      “Did you tell him about your threatening remarks to Ruby Ranger?”

      “Yeah. We’ve been working on that.”

      “Okay.” Decker chose his words carefully. “Would you mind if I called him? I could use some guidance on what to do for you.”

      “You’re doing fine, Dad. I probably talk to you as much as I talk to him.”

      No, I am not doing fine! Mildly, Decker said, “So you’d prefer that I don’t call him?”

      “Let me talk to him first, okay?”

      “Fair enough. Is there anything else you’d like to tell me?”

      “About Ruby Ranger or about me?”

      “At the moment, I’m more interested in you than in Ruby Ranger.”

      “What specifically? Drugs? Yeah, I took pills, too. Mostly downers when pot wasn’t enough. I liked being zonked out. It took the edge off the anger.”

      “What else, Yonkie?”

      “That’s it.”

      Silence.

      “No, really. That’s it.” He showed Decker his forearms. “See? I’m clean. I’m very angry, but I’m not chemically altered. You’re seeing the unadulterated Yonkel.”

      Decker tried out a smile. He thought he was partially successful. “What about sex?”

      “What about it?”

      “Are you sexually active? I’d like to be sure that you’re protecting yourself.”

      “Very much so.” Jacob smiled. “I’m not doing anything.”

      Decker’s laugh was real. “Okay.”

      “I made this deal with myself, that I’d wait with girls until I go away next year to Johns Hopkins. I have to work to keep the grades up, and girls are a distraction. Mostly, I’ll be older, the girls will be older. It ain’t easy, but I can wait.”

      “That’s very smart.” Decker stalled. Somehow he got the words out. “Actually, when I asked you if you’d like to tell me something, I was thinking about criminal activity, Jacob.”

      Jacob turned red and looked away.

      “Am I way off base?” Decker asked.

      Jacob continued to stare off. “I shoplifted.”

      “B-and-Es?”

      “No.” He looked at Decker. “No.”

      Decker was about to say, “Okay, I believe you,” but he couldn’t find his voice.

      Jacob said, “I shoplifted. Mostly booze, but I also stole about a dozen CDs over about a three-month period.” A pause. “Sixteen CDs. Don’t ask me how I did it with all those metal detectors. There are ways. I’m doing kapparah for it.”

      “What kind of atonement?” Decker asked, using the English word.

      “I never opened the CDs. They were still in their wrappers.” A beat. “Two months ago Dr. Gruen called the store manager. He explained the situation without mentioning names. Then he returned the CDs for me, no questions asked. As far as the stolen booze goes, I screwed up my nerve and did that myself. I used to hit this mom-and-pop liquor store. The owner—Mr. Kim—he’s being decent about the whole thing. We reached an agreement—a price. I’m