A Measure of Blood by Kathleen George Page A

careful.”
    Careful? “What’s with you, Ma? You sound, like, restless.”
    â€œI am. I am. I think sometimes I ought to just pick up and travel. You know, see something different.”
    â€œYou should. You should go. You took care of the old bastard forever.”
    â€œDon’t call him that.”
    â€œYou didn’t find him foolish?”
    â€œSometimes.”
    â€œWell, I’m glad to hear it.” He starts walking again.
    She chatters on about plans she could make. He doesn’t care that his mother is restless. He has bigger things on his mind now—what’s going to happen to his son. He has tried to find out, but how to take the next step is not clear to him.
    Earlier that day he drove down Morrowfield and looked toward the building where it happened but he did not see his son.
    He parked way down on Murray where he couldn’t be associated with his car and he walked back to the Golden Seal vitamin store. When he got inside, he pretended to browse the shelves for a long time.
    â€œMay I help you?”
    â€œA general vitamin? My girlfriend wants a high-quality brand. ”
    â€œWe carry pharmaceutical grade.”
    â€œGood, good. I mean we’re moving up a couple of streets away. So this place is convenient. The only thing—we were wondering, is the neighborhood safe? I mean, isn’t this where that woman was killed?”
    â€œJust around the corner. Horrible.”
    â€œMy girlfriend just kept wanting to know about the little boy. She saw it on the news and she just felt so bad for him.”
    â€œEverybody does.”
    â€œWhat happens to a kid like that?”
    â€œI don’t know. Foster care. Whatever.”
    â€œFoster care?”
    â€œYou know. People who make a few bucks taking on kids that need a home. It’s a lousy life for the kid.”
    He had to buy the vitamins, still didn’t know anything.
    â€œAre you still there?” his mother asks.
    â€œYeah, Ma, but I have to hang up now.”
    He’s made it through Monday, and when he arrives at his apartment, there are no police at the door and none inside the apartment, only the three Koreans drinking beers and talking, talking, talking.
    â€œYou wash car. It look new,” Shin says.
    â€œHave to keep things looking good.”
    â€œYou hungry? We have vegetables, rice? Always make extra.”
    â€œNo thanks.”
    Finally the Koreans go to bed. He’s missed the news on TV, so he finds a video on his laptop. Is there anything? Yes. Yes. Police say the perpetrator may be the owner of a maroon sedan, possibly a Corolla.
    Better not drive by the house again. They have the make wrong, but the color right.
    Late, it’s late, but he finds the website for the Pitt News . He’s going to lose money, but he knows what he has to do, before they start looking at makes other than Corollas. Beautiful ’09 Pontiac, perfect condition. $9,500 or best offer.
    He’ll take the loss.
    His hands tremble as he types. On the upside, he’ll have cash. His mother told him a new car was money very foolishly spent. She drove an old red VW Bug and it served her fine, she insisted.
    He sleeps fitfully, with bad dreams.

4.
    Tuesday
    TUESDAY MORNING AND Nadal eats his cereal and strides to work at the computer lab in Lawrence Hall. The whole lab has been torn up (as it always is when there is a school break), with some computers replaced. There will be glitches. Now that students are back, it seems most of the inquiries are about how to use the official Pitt email—some kids are swift but a few of them get irritable trying to get used to the new setup.
    He takes his place behind the table. For the first four hours he just needs to monitor the printers and answer questions from walk-ins. He gets phone duty for the second four hours. Sometimes he gets phone duty at night and that’s great because he can sleep for stretches between calls.
    Josh, the