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you ready to hear this?"

Jamie leaned back against the pillows. "No, but I want to hear it, anyway."

Brandon nodded and dragged one of the chairs closer. Straddling it backwards, as was his favorite position, he waited for Nate to resume his seat on the edge of the bed, then said, "I'm only gonna be able to tell you part of it, because this is an ongoing investigation, but I'll do my best to tell you all I can."

"Okay."

"Just after breakfast this morning, I got a call about an accident out on Tully Road. The body of a young man was found, fully clothed, lying on the side of the road not far from a black, older model Firebird."

"Ben."

"Yes. We'll have to wait for the autopsy before we declare an exact cause of death, but all preliminary reports indicate he was the victim of a hit-and-run."

Jamie clutched the blankets tighter. "He was murdered? You've got to launch an investigation, call in the F.B.I., whatever it is you do. You've got to put out an A.P.B. on the killer's car. You've--"

"Hold it." Brandon put up both hands to stop Jamie's tirade. "Do all you kids O.D. on T.V. crime dramas?" Under his breath, he said, "When I get my hands on that idiot Morgan, I'm gonna rip his ass a new one for making that damn announcement." He turned back to Jamie. "In the first place, nothing found at the scene indicates that Ben Lewis was murdered."

"But you said--"

"What I said," Brandon spoke slowly, much like one would speak to an unruly five-year-old, "was that Ben was the victim of a hit-and-run. Yes, it's a crime to hit someone and leave the scene of an accident. When I find the person who did it, you can bet your last buck that I'll see his ass prosecuted. I've got my men searching for the car even as we speak. But that doesn't mean that it was a case of intentional homicide."

Jamie's blank look more than conveyed his lack of understanding. Nate stepped in. "What he means, James, is that Ben's death was probably unintentional, and the guy who hit him ran scared and left the scene. Tully Road hosts a string of beer joints a mile long, literally. More than likely, the guy was drunk, didn't see Ben standing there, hit him, and then panicked."

"Why would Ben be out of his car in the first place?"

Brandon leaned his arms on the back of his chair, resting his chin on his forearm. "I can answer that. Ben's front tire on the driver's side was flat. Since his car was pointing back in the direction of the Reed City limits, he'd have been facing traffic while trying to change it. We found a disassembled jack and a tire iron not far from the body. Most likely, he'd just gotten them out of the trunk and was headed back to the front of the car when he was hit."

Jamie wasn't sure what to say. He appreciated the sheriff's honesty, and he was glad to know what happened, but that didn't take away the loss. If anything, knowing that Ben's death was probably the act of some drunken asshole made it worse. His death was meaningless, just one more statistic on some nameless tally somewhere.

Nate cleared his throat. "Do you have any questions for us, James?"

"Just one. Did he," his voice cracked. "Did he suffer?"

Brandon shook his head. "I can't say for sure, not until the report comes back, but I honestly don't think so. Going by his injuries, I'd say death came quick, if not instantly."

Jamie went back to picking fuzz balls from the blankets. "Thanks." He took a deep breath. "If you don't mind, I think I'd like to be alone right now."

Nate stood up, and Brandon did the same. "We understand, James. I'm gonna leave a prescription for a mild sedative with your aunt, just in case you need it. And I'll make sure she has all our numbers. You can call us anytime, for any reason. Also, if you're okay with it, I'll come back tomorrow to check on you, just to make sure you're all right."

Jamie nodded and lay back down, burrowing beneath the covers again, his eyes already closing.

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