"Nancy Kress - Evolution" - читать интересную книгу автора (Kress Nancy)

Jackie looks up. "Who killed the doctor?"
"The bastards that think they run this town," Sean says. He flicks the
hair out of his eyes. His face is ashy gray. "Fucking vigilantes'll get us
all."
"That's enough, Sean," I say.
Jackie's lip trembles. "Who'll get us all? Mommy..."
"Nobody's getting anybody," I say. "Sean, stop it. You're scaring
her."
"Well, she should be scared," Sean says, but he shuts up and stares
bleakly at his plate. Sixteen now, I've had him for sixteen years. Watching
him, his thick dark hair and sulky mouth, I think that it's a sin to have a
favorite child. And that I can't help it, and that I would, God forgive me,
sacrifice both Jackie and Jack for this boy.
"I want you to clean the garage tonight, Sean. You promised Jack three
days ago now."
"Tomorrow. Tonight I have to go out."
Jackie says, "Why should I be scared?"
"Tonight," I say.
Sean looks at me with teenage desperation. His eyes are very blue.
"Not tonight. I have to go out."
Jackie says, "Why should I -- "
I say, "You're staying home and cleaning the garage."
"No." He glares at me, and then breaks. He has his father's looks,
but he's not really like his father. There are even tears in the corners of
his eyes. "I'll do it tomorrow, Mom, I promise. Right after school. But
tonight I have to go out."
"Where?"
"Just out."
Jackie says, "Why should I be scared? Scared of what? Mommy!"
Sean turns to her. "You shouldn't be scared, Jack-o-lantern.
Everything's going to be all right. One way or another."
I listen to the tone of his voice and suddenly fear shoots through me,
piercing as childbirth. I say, "Jackie, you can play Nintendo now. I'll
clear the table."
Her face brightens. She skips into the living room and I look at my
son. "What does that mean? 'One way or another'? Sean, what's going on?"
"Nothing," he says, and then despite his ashy color he looks me
straight in the eyes, and smiles tenderly, and for the first time -- the very
first time -- I see his resemblance to his father. He can lie to me with
tenderness.
****
Two days later, just after I return from the Food Mart, they contact me.
The murder was on the news for two nights, and then disappeared. Over
the parking lot is scattered more TV-camera litter. There's also a wine
bottle buried halfway into the hard ground, with a bouquet of yellow roses in
it. Nearby is an empty basket, the kind that comes filled with expensive
dried flowers at Blossoms by Bonnie, weighted down with stones. Staring at
it, I remember that Bonnie Widelstein went out of business a few months ago.
A drug-resistant abscess, and after she got out of Emerton Memorial, nobody on
this side of the river would buy flowers from her.