Still sitting in the van, I wondered how to approach this. "Let me ask you a question."

He waited.

"You've never given me your take on what happened to my brother," I said.

"That a question?"

"More an observation. Here's the question: How come?"

"How come I never gave you my take on your brother?"

"Yes."

Squares shrugged. "You never asked."

"We talked about it a lot."

Squares shrugged again.

"Okay, I'm asking now," I said. "Did you think he's alive?"

"Always."

Just like that. "So all those talks we had, all those times I made convincing arguments to the contrary…"

"I wondered who you were trying to convince, me or you."

"You never bought my arguments?"

"Nope," Squares said. "Never."

"But you never argued with me either."

Squares took a deep drag on the cigarette. "Your delusion seemed harmless."

"Ignorance is bliss, eh?"

"Most of the time, yeah."

"But I made some valid points," I said.

"You say so."

"You don't think so?"

"I don't think so," Squares said. "You thought your bro didn't have the resources to hide, but you don't need resources. Look at the runaways we meet every day. If one of them really wanted to disappear, presto, they'd be gone."

"There isn't an international manhunt for any of them."

"International manhunt," Squares said with something close to disgust. "You think every cop in the world wakes up wondering about your brother?"

He had a point especially now that I realized he may have gotten financial help from my mother. "He wouldn't kill anyone."

"Bullshit," Squares said.

"You don't know him."

"We're friends, right?"

"Right."

"You believe that one day I used to burn crosses and shout' Heil Hitler'?"

"That's different."

"No, it's not." We stepped out of the van. "You asked me once why I didn't get rid of the tattoo altogether, remember?"