“He doesn’t have a best friend, like. Just whichever of them are about.”

“He have a girlfriend?”

“Nah. Not the last while.”

“Exes?”

“He went out with Caroline Horan for a couple of years, in school.”

“Good relationship?”

Trey shrugs. This is an extravagant one that means How the hell would I know?

“When’d it end?”

“A while back. Before Christmas.”

“Why?”

Another shrug. “She dumped him.”

“Any beef there? She accuse him of anything? Hitting her, cheating on her?”

Shrug.

Cal underlines Caroline’s name. “Where would I find Caroline? She work around here?”

“In town. Or she did when Bren was going out with her, anyway. Shop that sells shite to tourists. And sometimes she usedta give Noreen a hand—her mam and Noreen are cousins. I think she’s in college now, but, so I dunno.”

“He have any problems with anyone else?”

“Nah. Fought with the lads, sometimes. Nothing serious, but.”

“Fought like what? Arguments? Yelling? Fists? Knives?”

Trey gives Cal the drama-queen look again. “Not knives. All the rest, yeah. Didn’t mean anything.”

“Just guys being guys,” Cal says, nodding. This may well be true, but it needs checking. “What’s he do for fun? Any hobbies?”

“Plays hurling. Goes out.”

“He a drinker?”

“Sometimes. Not every night, like.”

“Where? Seán Óg’s?”

That gets an eye-roll. “Seán’s is old fellas. Brendan goes into town. Or people’s houses.”

“What’s he like drunk?”

“He’s not a bad drunk or nothing. He goes messing, like him and his mates robbed a load of signboards from outside shops in town and put them in people’s gardens. And one time Fergal’s parents were away and he had a party, and he passed out drunk, so the rest of them put a sheep in his bathroom.”

“Brendan ever get rowdy?” Cal asks. “Start fights?”

Trey makes a dismissive pfft. “Nah. He gets into fights the odd time, like once a bunch of lads from Boyle jumped on them in town. But he doesn’t go looking.”

“What about drugs? He ever do any of those?”

That gives Trey his first real pause. He eyes Cal warily. Cal looks back at him. He’s got no duty to nudge and cajole, not here. If Trey decides he doesn’t want to do this after all, that’s fine by Cal.

“Sometimes,” Trey says, finally.

“What kinds?”

“Hash. E. Bitta speed.”

“Where’s he get it?”

“There’s a few lads around the townland that always have stuff. Everyone knows to go to them. Or he’d buy it in town, sometimes.”

“He ever do any dealing?”

“Nah.”

“Would you know?”

“He told me things. I wouldn’t rat on him. He knew that.”

There’s a quick fierce flare of pride in Trey’s eyes. Cal is getting the flavor of this. The kid was Brendan’s pet brother, and everything about that was special.

“He ever have any problems with the police?”

The corner of Trey’s mouth twists scornfully. “Mitching off school. This fat lump comes down from town and gives us shite.”

“He’s doing you guys a favor,” Cal says. “He could report it to child protective services, get you and your mama in big trouble. Instead, he takes the time to come out here and talk to you. Next time you see him, you thank him real nice. Brendan run into police any other ways?”

“He got caught speeding, coupla times. Racing, like, with his mates. Nearly lost his license.”

“Anything else?”

Trey shakes his head.

“What about stuff he didn’t get caught for?”

They look at each other. Cal says, “I told you. Any bullshit, we’re done.”

Trey says, “He robs off Noreen sometimes.”

“And?”

“And off places in town. Nothing big. Only for the laugh.”

“Anything else?”

“Nah. You gonna tell Noreen?”

“Pretty sure she already knows, kid,” Cal says dryly. “But don’t worry, I’m not gonna say anything. How’d Brendan get on with your daddy?”

Trey doesn’t flinch, just one blink. “Bad.”

“Like what?”

“They’d fight.”

“Argue? Or it got physical?”

Trey’s eyes snap furiously with the fact that this is none of Cal’s damn business. Cal sits and watches, letting the silence stretch, while the kid’s instincts drag him two ways.

“Yeah,” Trey says, in the end. His face has tightened up.

“How often?”

“Few times.”

“Over what?”

“Dad said Brendan was a waster, sponging. Bren said look who’s talking. And sometimes . . .” Trey’s chin jerks sideways, but he keeps going. He’s sticking to his side of the deal. “To make Dad leave Mam or one of us alone, sometimes. If he was raging.”

“So,” Cal says, staying back from that, “it’s not likely Brendan headed off to join your dad.”

Trey makes a harsh, explosive noise that’s something like a laugh. “No chance.”

“You got a phone number for your dad, or an email address? Just in case.”

“Nah.”

“ ’Bout for Brendan?”

“Know his phone number.”

Cal flips to a fresh page in his notebook and passes it to Trey. He writes carefully, pressing the pen down hard. The wind is still going outside, rattling the door and pushing in at its edges to wrap cold around their ankles.

“He have a smartphone?” Cal asks.

“Yeah.”

An hour with that number, and the techs at work would have known every single thing that was on Brendan’s mind. Cal has none of their skills, none of their software and of course none of their rights.