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Ram might no longer have his youthful good looks, they made a handsome family, the kind of family you might see in a travel brochure, or in a prescription drug commercial. But the Ram Andy had known did not fit into that picture, so each time he saw them, Andy had told himself that Ram probably was a rotten husband and a nightmare of a father, that he probably cheated on his wife and treated her like a slave, and took all of his problems out on his kids.
    “So you gotta look out for yourself. I’m tellin’ ya, Andy, you gotta . Nobody else is gonna look out for you. Unless you happen to be one of those lucky few who has a friend . . . a real friend . . . who has your back. I was trying to be that kind of friend, Andy.”
    All it had taken to change Andy’s mind was that single, brief meeting with Ram in the courthouse. That had convinced him that Ram the hateful, sadistic boy had grown into a responsible man. Ram was so friendly and genuine, he’d made Andy want that to be true. He wanted to believe that the monster of his youth had been melted down into a decent, friendly human being.
    But Andy had been right the first time.
    “I wanted to be the kind of friend who would look out for you. To . . . well, like I said . . . to make up for the way I treated you in school.” He rose up to his full height again, extended his arm, elbow locked, and held his gun a couple of inches from the top of Andy’s head. He shouted at the top of his voice, “ Are you tellin’ me I made a fuckin’ mistake ?” The corners of his mouth were pulled down and he glared at Andy.
    Hey, mommy’s boy!
    Andy’s mind, barely coherent, babbled at him: Go along just tell him go along what he wants to hear go along with whatever he says!
    “No, Ram, no, no, no.” He repeated the word “no” quietly, over and over, as he slowly got to his feet, holding up his left hand, palm out. “No, you didn’t. I’m, I’m—” For a moment, the words caught in the soft, moist tissue of his throat like shards of glass. He coughed once. “Grateful, really, I’m grateful for what you’ve done. Are you okay? They didn’t hurt you, did they?”
    Ram slowly lowered his gun. He seemed confused by Andy’s response. “Uh, no. They didn’t hurt me.”
    “Good, I’m glad. We were worried.”
    He frowned. “We?”
    “Donny and me. Out in the car. We heard the gunshots and we were worried.”
    “About . . . me?”
    “Yeah. Donny’s still out there and the storm’s getting worse. Don’t you think we should get out of here?”
    Ram thought about that for a moment, then slowly nodded. “Yeah, we should go. We should. It wouldn’t be good to stick around here.” Still nodding, he said, “Hang on just a second.”
    Ram turned and walked back over to Anton, who still lay on his side, unmoving. Pointing his gun at Anton’s head, arm rigidly extended downward, Ram leaned forward slightly and fired. Then again. He stood upright and turned to Andy.
    “This was a good thing we did here tonight.”
    Jesus Christ, we?
    Andy wondered vaguely if Ram had always been like this, or if something had triggered it. If he did this sort of thing with any regularity, it seemed he would get caught. He had killed everyone in the room—did he expect to simply walk away and be free of any consequences? As a cop, he should know better. He didn’t seem to care if he got away with it or not. He didn’t even seem to be considering that.
    “These people wouldn’t have changed,” he continued. “They don’t rehabilitate. They just reproduce.” He released one cold, steely laugh. “These won’t. Now, your boy is with you, and that cunt, that traitor to her own son, is gone. I know it’s harsh, Andy, but it’s the only way to deal with them. I know. My wife was gonna take our kids. She was gonna take ’em away from me. That fucking cunt was gonna take our kids and leave town and divorce me and keep me away from my own fucking flesh and blood.”
    His voice was