Scotty was propped up on his mattress, reading a book by some guy named Truman Capote. It was about death and murder and the rawness of the story is what he liked—more than the gruesomeness of the crime.

He thought fleetingly of Vanessa's house. It was still hard as ever to find some peace in quiet in his house but school was out until the New Year and headphones worked pretty well for just reading. Instead of the radio being tuned to WCIN, the local soul station, Scotty ...