The Less-Dead (17 page)

“Yeah, me too,” I say.

“Actually, we both did,” my father says.

“The sad thing is,” Banks goes on, “I used to believe a lot of the stuff that caller said. It kills me to think of it now. How brainwashed I was. But the answer’s no. It wasn’t me. And for whatever it’s worth, I didn’t kill Kyle. Or the other
boy, Paul. The police keep questioning me about him, trying to pin another murder on me. I didn’t even know Paul.”

I don’t know if Banks’s statement is true, but for now I decide to go along with it. “That’s what Marty said. I saw him a few weeks ago. He told me he came to visit you. He said you were with Kyle the night he was killed, but that Kyle left with someone else. A man asking for spare change.”

“Yes, that’s right. Pastor Simpson came too, and I told him the same thing. I think both he and Marty believed me. At least, I hope they did. I know Pastor Simpson has been going through a hard time because of me. Because I used to be a member of King of Glory. Apparently the police and the media have been hounding him with questions.”

“I heard. But, Warren, the man who left with Kyle—I was wondering if you might be able to tell me what he looked like.”

Banks shakes his head. “It was dark. And I didn’t pay much attention. But… hold on, why do you want to know this?” He looks at my dad. A glimmer of hope lights up his face. “Is there another suspect? Do they have someone else in custody?”

“I’m sorry, Warren,” my father says. “No. At least, not that I’m aware of.”

Banks closes his eyes for a moment. “Oh, wishful thinking on my part.”

The guard appears at the door. “Five more minutes.”

“Noah,” Banks says, “the boy you found at the greenbelt—Will Reed—was he a friend of yours?”

“Yes, he was.”

“I’m very sorry.”

“Yeah. Me too.”

My dad puts a hand on my shoulder. My first impulse is to shrug it off, but I don’t. No one says anything for a while. “It’s hard to lose a friend,” Banks says. “Kyle and I weren’t close or anything, but he was a nice guy. And for whatever it’s worth, we weren’t, you know, intimate. I just liked him as a friend. That’s all. I think he liked me too. We talked a lot. I mean, sure, he got into some trouble, which isn’t surprising, seeing he didn’t have a family, but deep down he was just scared and alone. Like me.”

Banks shifts his feet, and that’s when I notice the chain. His ankles are shackled together.

“Noah?” I look up. “I’m very sorry about your friend. And I apologize, too, Mr. Nordstrom, for being so rude when you first came. You see, I thought you were with the Exodus group.”

“Exodus group?” I say. “What’s that?”

Banks doesn’t answer. He looks at my dad.

“Exodus is a national evangelical organization,” my father explains. “King of Glory has a chapter. Their goal is to help people who want to change their sexual orientation. The name Exodus is derived from when Moses led the people of Israel out of slavery and into the Promised Land.”

“Change their sexual orientation?” I say. “That’s insane.”

“Yes, I agree,” Banks says. “Anyway, it seems I’m their new project. Just the other day, a guy from King of Glory came to visit. He told me he used to be gay. But now he’s given his life over to God, and he’s happily married to a woman, and they have two beautiful children.” There’s
bitterness in his voice. He sighs deeply. “I’m not proud of this either, but after he left, well, that’s when I …” He trails off.

“That’s when you tried to kill yourself,” my father says.

“Yeah. Only, it didn’t work. Obviously. I’m still here.”

From the corner of my eye, I see my father swallow hard.

“After Kyle was murdered and I was arrested,” Banks says, “I believed what that caller on your show said—that God had brought judgment on both of us. Pretty crazy, huh? I mean, all Kyle wanted to do was help someone in need. Buy him a meal. Anyway, I’ve been thinking about this for a long time, and maybe you can answer a question for me, Mr. Nordstrom.”

“I don’t know, Warren,” my dad says. “I can try.”

“Okay. You see, I love God. I always have. I’ve only had one relationship with a man, and I really loved him, but I ended it, because I believed it was a sin. Now he’s with someone else. I’ve given my life to God, over and over, begged him to change me, but I’m still the same. I’m still gay. Can you explain that, Mr. Nordstrom?”

My father doesn’t say anything for a long time. Finally he looks up. His eyes are glassy. “I wish I had an answer, Warren, but I don’t. There was a time, not too long ago, when I thought I knew everything, but it seems I know very little. I’d say it’s between you and God now. But please, don’t try to hurt yourself again. That’s certainly not the answer.”

A few seconds later, the guard walks into the room. “Visiting time is over,” he barks. “I need to escort Mr. Banks back to his cell.”

Slowly, Banks stands. He shakes my dad’s hand first,
then mine. “Thanks for coming.” He follows the guard to the door, but before leaving the room, he turns around. “There’s something I forgot to mention, Noah. It’s about the man who left with Kyle. I didn’t get a good look at his face, but I can tell you one thing. He was carrying a Bible.”

“LOOK, I
know you’re pissed off at me, and you have every right to be. It’s just … I
really
need to talk to you.”

I’m at church, sitting directly behind Aubrey, whispering into her ear. Her father, Pastor Simpson, has just finished his sermon; I watch as he briskly walks up the aisle past us. Now the worship team take their places onstage and are about to sing their last sappy inspirational song. “Everyone, please rise!” commands the leader. “Let’s praise the Lord together!”

Carson is next to me, right behind Kat. Immediately, he bolts up from his chair and joins in, belting out the chorus, “Jesus, you’re all I need!”

“Aubrey, please don’t ignore me,” I say. Her hair brushes against my cheek. God, she smells good. I glance down and remember kissing the curve of her collarbone that fatal afternoon in the woods at the youth retreat. “I’m sorry about the night at the Red Room. The song—it was a mistake.”

Slowly, she turns around. Her face is flushed. I’m hoping it’s because she feels the same chemistry as I do, but I doubt it. “A mistake?”

“Yeah, a big one.”

The congregation sings,
“You shed your blood for me …”

“Explain,” she says.

“Paid the price so I can be …”

“Here? Now?”

“In your fold eternally …”

“Yes.”

While the rest of the church sings the chorus, I say, “Okay. The song I wrote was the exact opposite of how I feel. I thought you might see through it, you know, to the cryptic message. It was … well, it was my friend Will who gave me the idea.”

The song ends. As people are saying their last Amens, Aubrey looks at me. I can tell she’s holding back tears. “I’m sorry, Noah,” she whispers. “Carson told me what happened. It must have been awful. I just … well, I was angry before, but I should have called you. Are you okay?”

“Actually, I’m not.”

She glances around the church. “Come on, let’s get out of here.”

“Now?”

“Yeah.” As the congregation begins its “meet and greet” session, she brushes past Brandon and motions for me to follow. I do. Brandon doesn’t look too happy about this turn of events, and I can’t say that I care.

When we reach the aisle, Aubrey grabs my hand. Everyone is staring at us now. My guess is that about half the
congregation knows it was me who found the body of the third gay foster boy The media didn’t release my name, but word travels fast in King of Glory. From the corner of my eye, I see Pastor Simpson. I can tell he’s not meditating on Jesus’s shed blood right now; I think he might enjoy shedding some of mine instead. We race past him and out the door.

Aubrey and I stand together in the woods at the greenbelt, gazing at what’s left of Will’s campsite—the charred fire pit, a small knot of rope left from the makeshift clothesline, the stub of Hawk’s cigarette, the big rock where Will and I sat and composed my anti-love song. Meanwhile I fill Aubrey in on the past three crazy weeks of my life. She listens intently, barely saying a word.

When I finish, we’re both quiet for a long time. I hear the familiar sounds of water rushing over the rocks, cicadas chirring. It’s oddly peaceful. Aubrey was the one who decided we should come here. She wanted to understand exactly what I saw the morning I found Will.

Finally she says, “Noah? Where was the body?”

“I’ll show you.” I take Aubrey’s hand and lead her to the spot. It’s covered with leaves and twigs, like nothing ever happened. “Right here. Will was facedown. For a second I wasn’t sure he was dead, but then I knew.”

“And the note with the Bible verse? Where was that?”

“Right there. Beside Will’s head. Tucked under a big rock. The rope was next to it.”

“And what about … ?”

“The carving? I saw that too. Will was wearing a T-shirt I’d given him. You know the one. The Kinks’ 1985 tour. The front was stained with blood. I lifted it, and the cross was there. You can tell the killer took his time. It was no rush job.”

“Oh, God. You must have been so scared, Noah.”

“I think I felt more shock than anything. It took some time to sink in.”

Aubrey shudders. “I just don’t understand how anyone could be so sick. I saw those people on TV—from the Westboro group. I had no idea they existed. And they call themselves a
church
. The whole thing’s insane. And to think that Warren Banks left King of Glory and joined them. I just don’t get it.”

“Me neither. Especially after talking to him in jail. He seemed pretty tortured, but it’s hard to imagine him killing anyone. Anyway, the police don’t know for sure if the Westboro church is involved, or if Warren Banks is guilty of the first two murders. At this point the killer could be anywhere.”

Aubrey thinks this over. “You’re right. I mean, it’s possible that one man killed all three boys—Kyle, Paul,
and
Will—and that the police have no idea who it is.”

“It’s possible.”

It’s a relief to finally talk things over, and I’m glad Aubrey’s with me, but still the guilt hangs over me. Especially here, the place where I blew Will off, the place where he died. I run my hand across his book, tucked away in my front pocket. “Hey, Aubrey? Did you know that our church
had one of those Exodus groups? I mean, before I told you all this stuff.”

She sighs. “Yeah. I knew.”

“And what do you think of it?”

“I hate it. I think it sucks.” She looks at me. “The truth is, Noah, I used to believe everything my father taught. But I don’t anymore. I never told you this, but I met this guy Danny in theater arts. He was my mime partner, and we got to be pretty good friends. When he found out my father was a pastor, he told me that he used to belong to the youth group at his church. Only, when he came out this year, told the group he was gay, they were horrified. They decided to have a prayer meeting for him, and when he didn’t show up, they told him not to come around unless he was willing to change. It’s just so
wrong
. I don’t think Marty would
ever
do something like that.”

“You’re right. He wouldn’t. Carson told me Marty doesn’t agree with the church’s view that being gay is a sin. He thinks the youth group might be able to bring about some kind of change.”

“Really? That’s great.”

A lock of hair has fallen into Aubrey’s face. I reach over and tuck it behind her ear. “Aubrey, there’s something I didn’t tell you. Something about me and Will. You see, when we first met, I didn’t know he was gay. But after we hung out for a while, I realized he was, well,
into
me. Actually it was Carson who figured it out. Anyway, I thought I was okay with it. Will knew I was straight, and it’s not like he was expecting anything in return. But it turns out, I wasn’t okay. The last time I saw him, right here in the
woods, he said something and I took it the wrong way. I’m really ashamed of how I acted toward him. I was going to apologize at the Red Room, but he never showed up.”

Aubrey takes my hand. “I’m sorry, Noah. Try not to dwell on it. I’m sure Will knew how you really felt.”

“That’s the problem. I’ll never know.” I bend down, pick up a rock, throw it as hard as I can. I hear a thud in the distance. “There’s something else I did. Will gave me a book to write my songs in. Inside the cover, he wrote an inscription. It was like a poem. Anyway, some guy at school took it from me, read it aloud, started calling me a queer. I punched him in the stomach, and afterward I threw the book in the trash.” I pick up another rock and throw it. “I’ve been calling my father a hypocrite, and now look at me.”

“Noah, you made a mistake, but you’re not a hypocrite.”

“Yeah, well, I’m not so sure. Anyway, thanks for coming here with me,” I say. “Thanks for listening. And I really
am
sorry about the song.”

She shakes her head. “Don’t be. I’m beginning to understand it better now. Come on, let’s get out of here.”

We hike to the twin falls and take seats, side by side, atop the flat limestone bedrock. It’s a warm day. Aubrey kicks off her shoes and puts her feet in the water. I run my hand over Will’s book again. There’s a lump in my throat. “Aubrey? There’s one last thing I need to tell you. Actually, there’s something I need to
show
you. But before I do, would you promise me …” I can barely get the words out.