Lindsay Rogers

“Everyone is so cheerful and happy,” I said“This isn’t Mister Rogers Neighborhood, Dex. It’s Miami. Only the bad guys are happy.” She looked at me without expression, a perfect cop stare. “How come you’re not laughing and singing?”“Unkind, Deb. Very unkind. I’ve been good for months.”She took a sip of water. “Uh-huh. And it’s making you crazy.””

“But of course, very few people are Dexter. This is generally a good thing, but in this case it came in handy to be me. Four months after reading a story in the paper about a missing boy, I read a similar story. The boys were around the same age; details like that always ring a small bell and send a Mister Rogers whisper trickling through my brain: “Hello, neighbor.””

“But like everything else in the world that sounds good, freedom is an illusion. And in this case, I had no more choice than a man strapped into Old Sparky who is told he’s free to stay alive as long as he can when they throw the switch. I looked up at Roger the Pirate. His smile looked kind of mean all of a sudden. “Quit smirking,” I told him. He didn’t answer. I followed my sister and Chutsky into the park.””