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Show 107 "It is easy. We drive to the nearest police station where you say 'I want to report an attempted burglary.' Then they'll get in touch with Gram . . . and . . . " She turned away from him. In the dim light of the Burger Chalet he saw her mouth turn down. "Come off it, Dyna, why'd you do it? What were you after? Are you on drugs, is that it?" "Parker! Is that what you think?" "What em I supposed to think?" "I don't know. All I know is, I blew it, I just blew everything. I can't expect you to understand." "Hey, come on," he lowered his voice. "Parker, the non-talker, wants to have a conversation for once. What happened? Can't you trust me?" Her breath came in ragged chunks that were very close to sobs. Whether she trusted him or not, she couldn't talk. She wasn't able to, he realized, watching her roll the tortured napkin into hard spaghetti shapes. He reached for the jacket beside him. "Come on, let's split. I'll take you home." Leaving the Burger Chalet, Parker's heart threatened to pound right out of his chest. What was he supposed to do, get mean? Make her open the bag, turn her pockets inside out? He was no cop! He couldn't make her talk-not him! The solid cold feel of the steering wheel didn't suggest any solutions to Parker, but its familiarity was comforting. Hurt, disappointed, his head full of crazy, amorphous thoughts, Parker held on tight to his faithful old pickup. Maybe he should turn her in. The rumors at school about her police record must have been true, so maybe he wasn't doing her a favor, giving her an easy out. You punish criminals, his dad said repeatedly, you don't coddle them. But why wouldn't she defend herself? Even that, even an excuse . . . Finally, Parker decided to take a new tack. "Is this the way you and your grandma get along?" he asked, letting the words come out sharp and nasty. "Leave Gram out of this!" Dyna retorted. "I've done it before, if |