This wouldn't be easy. He needed a written map to perform simple chores like finding a grocery store or getting around Boston. He still relied on a taxi to get him from his apartment to Peabody. When not with us, he was on his own, with no companion but his troubled mind. I encouraged him to enroll at nearby Boston University in hopes he'd find an interest. Martha was playing nurse maid to both Howie's limitations and his fragile ego while struggling with morning sickness and her stressful hospital position.
I cautioned everyone not to be concerned with what occurred after we conveyed a tip. The tip we offered must be the end of our involvement. Once in the authorities were notified, we must move on and not look back. It was heart wrenching when sometimes our tip failed to bring about justice. Under no circumstances should we ever personally get directly involved with a case. We vowed to protect our own anonymity at all costs. This rule was absolute; we forbade ourselves from divulging so much as a hint to anyone. I was pleased with the overall response and I think we collectively felt a modicum of relief. We had firm footing on which to struggle forward.
My principal concern remained Quinn. I knew he desperately wanted to pursue Howie's never-before-encountered ability as far as it would go. To assure myself he wouldn't sink our fragile boat I took him aside for a stroll in the small backyard.
"Don't get me wrong, Ben. I'm all for putting these guys down. God knows, I've seen the bastards before, in their formative years. There were a lot of those kids in the foster system where I grew up; you could see them coming. A kid who stole matches so he could light spiders on fire and watch how far they ran. Then he graduated and dosed a cat in kerosene. I broke his arm before he could toss the match. That got me kicked out of the home and a juvie record for abusing the little bastard. This stuff I've been doing with the plants and shit all summer? It's science one-oh-one. What Howie has is off the 'ucking charts and I'm now part of it! Do I agree with how he's limiting it? Hell, no! But I'm going to ride it for my eight seconds and get my rodeo ribbon, before I get tossed on my ass. It's Howie's head so it's his choice but the machines, are mine exclusively." How could I expect more?
We were improving. Betsy compiled a comprehensive portfolio of automobile models which Howie memorized so he could better identify vehicles. We researched tip lines in an effort to spread around our contacts. Finding the most effective sources remained less than satisfactory.