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him stop hurting himself？
〃Listen；〃 he said。 〃Bobby killed the others because he couldn't take care of them anymore and he couldn't let them go。 Then he killed himself because he couldn't live without them。 Right？〃
Trevor made no response； but he didn't look away。 Suddenly Zach had a flash of intuition； the way he sometimes did when hacking a troublesome system。 He thought he knew what was on that loop in Trevor's brain。 〃Is it about love？〃 he asked。 〃Trev； do you think you have to make all this keep happening to prove you love me？〃
At first he thought Trevor wasn't going to answer。 But then； ever so slowly； Trevor nodded。
We're so fucked up； Zach thought。 We could be the Dysfunctional Families poster kids if either of us lives long enough。 Thanks； Joe and Evangeline。 Thanks； Bobby。
〃But I know you love me； Trevor。 I believe you。 I want to stay alive and show you。 I don't need you to take care of me； I can take care of myself。 And if you e away with me I won't leave you ever。〃
〃How 。 。 。〃 Trevor's voice sounded husked out； used up。 〃How can I know that？〃
〃You have to trust me；〃 said Zach。 〃All I can tell you is the truth。 You have to decide the rest for yourself。〃
Trevor looked up from the hypnotic swirling pattern in the mirror shards； looked into Zach's battered face。 The pain in his right hand was enormous； hot as a skillet on the burner； then cold all the way to the bone。 His knuckles were torn to bleeding ribbons。 He thought he had broken at least one finger。 The feeling of it made him heartsick。 But the terrible anger was gone。
He had been ready to go plunging down； down； down。 And he had nearly taken Zach with him。
Zach was kneeling before him； naked and bloody as if he had just been born。 Pain needled through Trevor's legs as he stood。 His feet were sliced up pretty badly too； he realized； he had been grinding them into the broken glass； trying to obliterate some image he could not piece together。 The mirror fragments were opaque with his blood now； reflecting nothing。
Trevor climbed out of the tub and helped Zach up with his good hand； grabbed him with the other arm and buried his face in Zach's stiff hair。
〃What can I do？〃 he asked。 The question seemed terribly inadequate； but he could think of no other。
〃Leave with me。 Now。〃
Trevor expected to feel the house clenching like a muscle around him； trying to hold him in。 But he felt nothing ing up through the floorboards to mingle with the blood from his feet； nothing in the walls around him。 He looked over Zach's shoulder at the buckled shower curtain rod and felt only an echo of the old sorrow tinged with dread。 That was where Bobby had ended up； where he had chosen to end up。 Trevor could choose to go anywhere he wanted to。
The realization was like seeing infinity suddenly unfold before his eyes。 A million mirrors； and none of them broken。 A million possibilities； and more branching out from each of those。 He could leave this house and never see it again； and he would still be alive。 And it was by his own hand： he had chosen to be with Zach； had chosen to eat mushrooms and go to Birdland； had sought out the house and turned the knob and walked in on Bobby's eternity。 They were all choices he had made。 It was up to him。
Zach opened the bathroom door and pulled him into the hall。 The house was full of a clear； still blue light。 The night was over。
Trevor looked down into Zach's ill…used； blood…smeared； weary face。 J choose you； he thought； but I can't believe you still want me。
They stumbled into the bedroom and sat on the edge of the bed。 Zach found his glasses unharmed on the floor and put them back on。 Trevor saw the gouge in the opposite wall where he had tried to hit Zach； saw the bloodied hammer in the corner。 He stroked Zach's hair with his good hand； kissed his eyelids； his forehead。 He hoped an electrical current would have run up his arm and shocked him to death if he had violated this wondrous brain。
Zach leaned against him。 His head lay heavy on Trevor's shoulder。 〃I need to get out of here；〃 he whispered。
〃Okay。 Where will we go？〃
〃I don't know。〃 Gingerly； Zach touched Trevor's right hand； which he was cradling in his lap trying to keep still。 〃This looks bad。 You need to get it set。 And I think I might have a concussion。〃
〃Oh 。 。 。 Zach 。 。 。〃
〃You didn't do it。 My dad did。〃
〃Your dad？〃
〃Yeah。 Look； we have to talk； but I can't right now。 I feel like I'm gonna pass out。 We need a hospital。〃
〃The closest one's twenty miles away。 Can you call Kinsey on your cellular phone？〃
〃His home phone's cut off。 I heard him say so last night 。 。 。〃 Zach trailed off。 His eyes were half…closed now； his breathing quick and shallow。 His skin felt cool； slightly damp。
〃Can you drive？〃
Zach shook his head。
〃But your car has a stick shift。〃
〃I know。 I'll shift for you if I can stay awake。 If I can't； it's gonna hurt you like hell； and I'm sorry。 But I can't even see straight。 I'd run us right off the road。〃
〃All right； then。〃 Trevor tried to flex his hand。 Great bolts of pain shot up his arm。 The two middle ringers were stiff； swollen shiny； suffused with blood。 The skin felt as tight and unfortable as an ill…fitting glove。 His knuckles were so badly abraded that he thought he could see a pale glimmer of bone beneath all the red； though he didn't look too closely。
I can't hold a pencil with that； he thought。 But he was too worried about Zach to care much。
Zach helped Trevor dress； tugged his sneakers on and tied them for him。 Trevor felt the linings tugging at the cuts on his feet； blood soaking into the soles。 Then Zach dressed himself and helped gather their belongings。 Trevor took nothing but his Walkman； his tapes； and his clothes。 If his hand healed； he would get new pens and sketchbooks later。 He couldn't imagine using the old ones again。
After some consideration； he held a match to the envelope containing his family's autopsy reports and burned them in the kitchen sink。 It felt a little like smashing his hand had felt。 But he thought they belonged here。
He helped Zach out through the living room； half holding him up as Zach carried both bags。 The air was thick as syrup； sucking at Trevor's legs； pulling at his feet。 You could stay； it whispered。 There is a place for you forever； here in Birdland。
But Trevor would not listen。 It was only one of a million possible places； and it wasn't the one he wanted anymore。
Zach clung to him until they were out of the house and off the porch。 The sky was a deep watery blue streaked with rose。 A few stars were still visible； they seemed too huge and bright； their glitter too intense。 The whole world was silent。
Wet grass brushed their knees as they made their way to the back of the house where the car was parked。 Trevor helped Zach into the passenger seat； then slid in behind the wheel。 Zach fumbled with his seat belt。 Trevor wanted to wear his too； but he didn't think he could fasten it himself； and he was afraid to ask Zach to lean across the seat and help him。 Zach looked sick and sweaty； on the verge of blacking out。
Trevor fitted the key into the ignition with his left hand and turned it awkwardly。 The engine roared into life。 Pain flared in his foot as he stepped on the clutch。 The Mustang began to roll through the yard and down the overgrown driveway。
〃Zach？〃
〃。 。 。 yeah 。 。 。〃
〃Put it in second。〃
Zach groped for the shift stick and pulled it down into second gear。 The car picked up speed。 They were at the end of the long driveway now； turning onto Violin Road。 Trevor steered with his left hand； braced his right forearm against the wheel。 He glanced into the rearview mirror。 The house was barely visible through the shroud of weeds and vines。 It looked like an empty place。 Trevor wondered if it ever would be。
He let the car coast down the rutted gravel road。 〃Okay；〃 he said。 〃Put it in third。〃
No response。 Trevor looked over at Zach。 He was slumped back against the seat； eyes shut； glasses sliding down his nose； bruises blooming like dark flowers on his pallid face。
〃Zach！〃 he said。 〃ZACH！〃
〃。 。 。 mmm 。 。 。〃
Trevor slowed the car to a crawl； made sure Zach was breathing； speeded back up to twenty or so。 If he rolled through stop signs； he could drive all the way to Kinsey's house in second gear。 It would be hell on the clutch； but he didn't care。 If anything happened to Zach now； Trevor might as well go right back into that house and nail the door shut behind him。
〃Stay awake；〃 he told Zach。 〃I don't want you slipping。〃
〃。 。 。 mmmmmm 。 。 。〃
〃Zach！ Sing with me！〃 Trevor tried to think of a song whose words he knew。 The only thing that came to mind was one he had been made to learn at the Boys' Home。 It would have to do。 〃YIPPIE KI YI YO…O；〃 he sang loudly。 〃GIT ALONG； LITTLE DOGIES！ e on； Zach。 Please 。。。 IT'S YOURRRR MISFORTUNE； AND NONE OF MY OWWWWN 。。。〃
〃Yippie 。 。 。 ki yi yo；〃 sang Zach in a ghostly voice； barely a whisper。
〃GIT ALONG； LITTLE DOGIES 。 。 。 c'mon； louder 。 。 。〃
〃YOU KNOW THAT WY…OMING WILL BE YOUR NEW HOOOOOME；〃 they finished in unison。
Trevor glanced over at Zach。 His eyes were open； and there was a tired smile on his face。 〃Trevor？〃 he said。
〃What？〃
〃You're a lousy singer。〃
〃Thanks。〃
〃And； Trev？〃
〃What？〃
〃That song really sucks。〃
〃So？〃
〃So 。 。 。 you want this thing in third gear？〃
〃Take it up to fourth；〃 said Trevor； and pushed the pedals to the floor。
Chapter Twenty Three
Frank Norton chewed on a stale glazed doughnut and regarded the improbable figure that had just appeared in the doorway of his office。 The kid looked seventeen or eighteen； his skinny body awkwardly put together and slightly hunched。 Dirty brown ringlets of hair hung in his face。 The lenses of his glasses were as thick as Coke bottles。 His beady little eyes peered suspiciously through them。
〃Is Agent Cover here？〃 he demanded。
Should've known he was looking for Ab； thought Norton。 Who else has teenage nerds in his office at seven in the morning？ 〃Nope。 He had a rough time chasin' down a Chevy pickup yesterday and he's not in yet。〃 The kid stared blankly at him。 〃Can I help you？〃 he added。
〃My name is Stefan Duplessis。 I'm assisting him with the Bosch case。〃
Ah。 The stoolie。 〃Sure； Stefan。 What can I do for you？〃
〃I've found a very important clue。〃 Duplessis held up a sweat…stained piece of newsprint。 〃I think Zach Bosch planted this article in the Times…Picayune。 Furthermore； I think he's in North Carolina。 The first article said so； and this one does too。 I've even figured out the name of the town！〃
Furthermore。 Jesus。 〃Is that so？〃 Norton asked politely。 Ab was really grasping at straws on this case。 That hacker was probably living it up in Australia by now。 〃Well； Stefan； I'm afraid that's not my case。 You'll have to leave it on Agent Cover's desk。〃
〃But I need to talk to him now！〃 The last word was pronounced naaaaow； like the noise his sister…in…law's Siamese made when Norton pulled its tail。
〃Sorry； kid。 You can't。〃
〃Then I'll wait till he gets here。 This is too important to leave on his desk。〃
〃Suit yourself。 There's a bench in the hall。〃
Duplessis made his exit with an air of wounded dignity。 Ab Cover isn't a Secret Service agent； Norton thought。 He's a goddamn babysitter。
A few minutes later he got up to get a cup of coffee and saw the hacker sitting forlornly on the hard wooden bench； still clutching his section of the Times…Picayune。 Norton's curiosity got the better of him。 〃Hey； kid； can I take a look at that？〃
Duplessis handed him the paper。 It was smudged with the gray whorls of his fingerprints； and he had circled the article in green felt…tip。
Travis Rigaud of St。 Tammany Parish accidentally shot himself while cleaning his collection of handguns…five different times with five different guns； twice in the left foot；
once in the right calf； and once in each hand； severing two fingers 。 。 。
Norton handed it back。 〃That's real nice； Stefan。 He'll be happy to see it。〃
Ab Cover isn't even a baby sitter； Nort