Chapter 9

“You gunning to tell me what the hell was going on back there with the fish kids and the crazy broad too?” Hogan was getting more frustrated the longer Vergil wouldn’t look at him.

“It’s the same story.”

Hogan tugged Vergil’s ruined jacket back over the patch job and grumbled. “Better be a good one.”

They were on the road again by the time Vergil had his courage together, Hogan was practically chewing on the steering wheel with irritation.

“I’ve never told nobody about this before. I’d appreciate if we kept it between us.”

“Just spit, would you?”

“I grew up in a place like that. Not some little backwater nowhere…someplace where things weren’t right. It was meant to be an artist’s commune up in Kingsport. There weren’t many kids there but thosewho were didn’t have parents, we belonged to everybody, and nobody.”

Hogan’s eyebrows were drawing down lower with every word he heard, but he kept his eyes on the road.