by Henry, April
“I’m here to ask you the same thing. Why are you here? Why aren’t you with Nick?”
She frowned. “Why should I be with Nick?”
“Because he’s being questioned by the police about that girl’s murder!” Only when Mrs. Walker’s customer—an old woman in mushroom-colored shoes—whipped her head around did Ruby realize she had forgotten to modulate her voice.
Mrs. Walker froze. “You don’t understand. He’s helping the police. That’s all.”
“And just what kind of help could Nick give them? He doesn’t know anything. It wouldn’t take them two hours to figure that out. Unless they didn’t believe him.”
The old lady cleared her throat, and with a start, Mrs. Walker started passing items across the scanner again.
“But Nick didn’t do anything wrong.” She put a rubber band around a carton of eggs. “So it can’t hurt him to talk to the police. They told me they just needed to get a few things straightened out.”
“You’ve got to put a stop to it immediately. Nick shouldn’t be talking to them without an attorney. They wouldn’t be questioning him for this long unless they thought he was a suspect.”
“Nick?” Mrs. Walker laughed. She actually laughed. “But he didn’t have anything to do with it. Nick won’t even kill a spider.”
Ruby ground her teeth in frustration. “But what if the police don’t see him the same way you do? If they talk to him long enough, they could make him start thinking that he actually did. Juveniles are psychologically vulnerable to suggestive cues and coercion.”
“This is my son we’re talking about. I know what he’s capable of. I know he didn’t do anything. I’m not really worried.” She turned to the older woman. “That will be $35.87.”
“And I know that, too,” Ruby said to her back. “And I am worried. Nick might start saying what they want to hear. You need to go down to the police station and put a stop to this right away.”
Mrs. Walker bit her lip. Ruby finally seemed to be getting through to her. “The thing is, I can’t leave work.” She lowered her voice. “We’ve got a new manager, and he doesn’t like me because I turned him down for a date. I think he’s just looking for an excuse to fire me.”
“Then call the police.” Ruby held out her cell phone with the phone number already selected. “Call and tell them it’s over, and I’ll go get him. They’ll either have to read him his Miranda rights and arrest him, or they’ll have to let him go.”
Someone behind Ruby cleared his throat. She whirled around. “Is there a problem here?” It was a skinny middle-aged guy with an elaborate black mustache and a red polyester vest.
“Family emergency,” Mrs. Walker said. The manager looked from red-haired Ruby to blond Mrs. Walker. “Can I take five minutes after this customer?”
“You’ve already got someone else behind her.”
“Then after that. Please?”
“This really isn’t the kind of behavior I want you to make a habit of.”
“I’m sorry.” Mrs. Walker lifted her hands.
He grunted. “This once. But don’t think I’m not making note of it.”
* * *
Ruby wanted to fly down the freeway, but she kept to the same seven-miles-over-the-limit rule. She found a place to park and ran into the lobby of police headquarters. Just as she went in, the elevator doors opened and Nick stepped out.
He was holding his coat. Under the arms, his shirt was stained with sweat. On his feet were plastic shower shoes, the kind that prisoners wore. His eyes looked huge and frightened.
Ruby was opening her mouth when Harriman stepped out right behind him. His voice was pitched for both of them. “I know you, Nick. You can’t live with a secret this big. No one can. It will eat at you. But the only way I can help you is if you tell the truth.”
“You know Nick,” Ruby said to Harriman. “And you know he didn’t do it. It’s not even logical.”
“Who ever told you that murder is logical?” Harriman spun on his heel and stabbed his finger at the elevator button. The doors opened back up, and he stepped inside without saying another word.
“They wanted me to take a DNA test.” Nick sighed heavily. “I said no.”
“Don’t say another word until we’re in my car,” Ruby said, grabbing him under the arm. Normally she didn’t like to be touched or even to touch, but this was different. This was like giving someone first aid. Under her fingers, she could feel how he was shaking.
Once they were both inside her car, Nick said, “They took my shoes for ‘evidentiary purposes.’ When I said no to the DNA test, they just told me they would get a court order.” His face changed. “That must be why Harriman asked me if I wanted anything to eat or drink when I first came in. I thought he was being nice. But he was probably looking for my DNA.”
“Why didn’t you just give it to him?” Ruby asked. “I mean, sure, you must have gotten her DNA on you when you crawled through her blood, but she was long gone before we got there. And the converse isn’t true. There’s no way you could have gotten your DNA on her.”
“They said they already know it’s at least a partial match.” He wiped his hands on the knees of his jeans.
“Then they must be lying. The police are allowed to do that when they’re questioning a suspect and trying to get him to confess.”
Nick was breathing fast. “I don’t think he was lying.” His voice broke. “Ruby, I don’t know what to do. I don’t know what to think.”
“But you didn’t do it, Nick. Right?” Something about him made her doubt her surety.
“What if I blanked it out? What if—I don’t know—what if I sleepwalked or something?” He knocked the heels of his hands against his temples. “I don’t know what happened. All I know is that they found male DNA on her right hand, and they said that it matches my dad’s DNA—and any of his male relatives. Which means me.”
“Your dad? But he’s dead. How would they have his DNA profile?” Maybe this was the proof that the cops were lying. Ruby was nearly certain that whatever DNA information the army kept on its soldiers, it didn’t go into CODIS, the FBI’s DNA database.
Nick put his hands over his face. “My dad’s not dead. Not according to Harriman, anyway.”
Even if the detective could lie, why would he tell such a cruel, bizarre lie to Nick? “If he’s not dead, then where is he?”
“In prison. He’s a murderer, Ruby. Harriman said he beat some guy to death. I guess my mom must have decided to start telling everyone he was dead rather than telling the truth.” Nick let his hands fall. His eyes shone with tears. “And Harriman said whoever left the DNA has to be my dad or one of his male relatives. But he doesn’t have any except for us. Which means it has to be me or my brother.”
“Kyle?” Ruby had only met him twice, not enough to weigh whether he could be a killer.
“So that’s why I said no to the DNA test. Because once it doesn’t match, they’ll know it’s Kyle. My mom told them Kyle was sleeping when it happened, but when I came home, he wasn’t in bed. He wasn’t anywhere in the house. I don’t know where he was or what he was doing. I do know that if he killed her, it has to have been an accident. If he did it, he didn’t mean to. I have to talk to him first. Maybe—maybe give him a chance to run.”
CHAPTER 35
NICK
FRIDAY
I WISH YOU HADN’T
As Ruby drove him home, Nick’s mind was whirling with images. Of being small and having his dad lift him in the air with big hands. Of Lucy’s blood darkening his gloves. Of Kyle running to the bathroom Monday to throw up when the police car screamed by their house. Of Harriman offering him something that looked like a cross between a Q-tip and a miniature scrub brush.
Ruby broke the silence. “Did they ever read you your rights?”
“What?” Nick shook his head, trying to orient himself. His hands lay loose on his lap, but he could feel them still trembling. That lady cop had tried to say it was proof of his guilt, th
at he wouldn’t be shaking and sweating if he wasn’t guilty. Of course, he hadn’t told her it was because he kept wondering about Kyle.
“Did they read you your rights?” Ruby repeated. “They have to if you’re in custody.”
“You mean that whole ‘right to remain silent’ thing? No.”
“Then you could have walked out at any time. But they didn’t tell you that. And judges use the standard of what the prudent person would think under the circumstances. Not what an uninformed, naive kid would think.”
Nick roused himself enough to say, “Thanks a lot, Ruby.”
“I’m not saying you’re naive in general. I’m just saying you are uninformed about the law. Next time ask to speak with a lawyer. Or even your mom. If you’re under eighteen and ask to speak to your parent, the law treats that as the same as asking for a lawyer. Either way, at that point all questioning will have to stop.”
“Next time?” Nick swallowed hard, trying to will his nausea away. “There had better not be a next time. If there is, it will be because they’re arresting me for that girl’s murder.”
“I’m afraid you’re going to see them again. Just because you said no to the test doesn’t mean they won’t come back and force you to take it. All they need to do is write up a warrant and get a judge to sign it. It might take them until tomorrow. So when they show up again, don’t talk to them. The only thing you should open your mouth for is to let them get your DNA.”
Ruby seemed so sure of herself, and of him. “How come you don’t think I did it?” he asked.
“I know you, Nick. And I can’t see you coming home from a SAR mission and stopping to murder some girl you caught sight of. It’s not logical.”
“The cops are sure that I did it. And they took stuff from my locker and my room. That means they’ve got stuff with my DNA. Maybe, I don’t know, maybe they planted it.”
“They wouldn’t do that.” But Ruby didn’t sound entirely certain.
“You weren’t there. They all think I’m guilty. Harriman, his partner, this lady cop. I mean, Harriman seems sad, but he still thinks I did it. And his partner almost hit me. Maybe he wanted to make sure that everyone else is certain, too.”
Ruby pulled into his driveway. The house was dark. Nick checked the time on his phone. His mom was still at work. He didn’t know where Kyle was. Maybe that was better. He needed time to think about what the police had said.
“Do you want me to come in with you?” Ruby asked. She didn’t look at him.
“No. That’s okay.” Nick couldn’t wait to be alone. “Thanks again, though, for everything you did today.”
When he went inside, his house was no refuge. In his room, all the drawers gaped open. It was clear the contents had been taken out, gone through, and just stuffed back in the same general area. Nothing was folded anymore. Not that Nick ever folded anything, but his mom did. His socks and underwear, usually on opposite sides of the same drawer, were all commingled.
He imagined Harriman and his partner and that lady cop sifting through everything with gloved hands. Maybe holding up something particularly personal or embarrassing and laughing. It was like knowing someone had gone through your thoughts.
In addition to the magazines, all his notebooks, drawings, and his combat knife were gone. So was his computer. So were all his shoes. He lay down on his bed and put his arm over his eyes.
Ten minutes later the front door opened. “Nick?” his mother called.
He didn’t say anything. Didn’t move. He felt the bed shift as she settled in beside him.
“Nick, honey, I’m sorry.” She touched the arm over his eyes and took her fingers away. “I just thought they would have a few questions, and you would answer them, and that would be it. Of course I wasn’t thinking they thought you did it. That’s a ridiculous idea.”
Anger clotted his throat. “Oh really?” He couldn’t stand to be so close to her. He sat up and pushed himself to his feet. “It’s not so ridiculous knowing that my father is a murderer.”
He heard her quick intake of breath. “I wish you hadn’t learned it like that.”
“And how was I supposed to learn it? You lied to me, over and over. You let me think he was dead!”
“I didn’t tell you he was dead.” Her face was pale. “I just didn’t correct you.”
“Then why did you bother to let me know the truth about Santa Claus and the Easter Bunny?” Nick’s voice rose and he didn’t try to rein it in. “You let me know the truth about everything except my dad. It was like poor little Nick, let him stay in his make-believe world.” He made a sound like a laugh. “No wonder we never go visit any family. Because they might actually tell me the truth. And you know what? I’m old enough. I deserve the truth. My whole fricking life has been a lie. I wanted to be like him.” He leaned down so he was in her face. “I wanted to be like him, and now that’s exactly what they think I am.”
“Listen, Nick.” Bright red now splotched her cheeks. She blinked and tears rolled down her face. “You were four when he went to prison. Four. I did not lie. Not really. You put things together, and you thought you knew the truth. If I lied, it was more by omission.”
“Oh yeah, like that really makes a difference.” Tears burned his own eyes, but he ignored them. Why was he crying, anyway? He was mad. “Does Kyle know?”
Her long silence told him the answer. Finally, she said, “He was older. He remembered the truth. He remembered how terrible it was, the cops dragging your dad away, the reporters banging on the door and taking our pictures whenever we went outside.” She took a ragged breath. “Why do you think I don’t want you to join up? Iraq changed your dad. Before, sure he got angry sometimes, but it was nothing like it was after. I look at you, Nick, and there are times I see him. In the shape of your face, the way you hold yourself. He was hyperactive, like you are. Impulsive. Good, bad, good. He teetered.”
“What? So does that mean you really think I did this thing? You think I came home from saving a little girl’s life and right after that I stabbed some lady in the back and dragged her into that vacant lot to die?”
“No.” Her voice got stronger. “No. I don’t believe that.”
But the thing was, Nick had heard the catch in her voice. The catch as part of her wondered if it were true.
“So what really happened to Dad? They said he beat somebody to death in a bar.”
“He went out drinking. We’d been fighting. We’d been fighting a lot. It seemed like he wanted to fight, like he was just looking for excuses. There was a big football game on and he went to a bar. It was like a perfect storm. He was drunk. He was on edge. And crowds, loud noises—since he had come home, those always set him off.”
Nick sat back down on the bed, but on the end, not next to his mom. Did he really want to hear this?
“He got in an argument, they took it outside, and he ended up killing that poor man with just his bare fists and his boots. The army taught your father how to be a killer. And then it turned him loose. When he came home, he didn’t remember how to be anything else.”
Nick half turned to look at her.
“I had to see his wife every day at the trial.” Her face was wet with tears. “This woman could have been me.” She let her words trail off and swiped at her eyes. “She had two little kids, too. In another life, we could have been friends. But she … she hated me. My husband took her husband away from her.”
“He didn’t take him,” Nick said. “He killed him.”
She let out a long sigh. “You don’t understand, Nick. He didn’t only kill that poor man that day. Don destroyed himself, too. He blew up two families at the same time. I tried to talk to her once, but she said, ‘You can still go visit your husband in prison. The only place I can talk to my husband is at the cemetery.’” Her voice shook. “Society doesn’t want to see the families behind the mug shots. But we exist. I didn’t ask for this to happen. But I have had to pay for this. I raised two boys alone on one salary instead of two.
And I’ve learned not to tell people. Because if you do, they think you deserved it. That it was your fault for not knowing what he was capable of.”
CHAPTER 36
NICK
FRIDAY
WHERE WERE YOU?
Kyle knocked on the door, opening it before Nick even answered.
“Dude! Mom said the police questioned you about that girl!”
His brother didn’t look scared. He looked excited. Maybe that was how killers reacted to scary things.
“Look, don’t tell Mom,” Nick said. “But they said they found DNA at the scene. There’s a way they can test just a part of the male chromosome and look for a match. It matched—it matched Dad! That’s how I found out about him. And the cops said it had to be a relative of his. That means it’s me or you. And I know it’s not me.” As he said the words, their meaning sank in even deeper.
“You’re joking, right?” Kyle stared at him incredulously. “You’re my brother. You’ve known me all your life. Can you really think that?”
“I thought I knew who my dad was, and I was wrong about that.”
“That’s because you never knew him. You only knew this image of him you built up in your mind.”
“How is that any different from you? How well do I really know you?”
“Please! Have you thought that maybe the police are just messing with you? Lying to you to get you to confess?”
“I saw the lab report.”
Kyle rolled his eyes. “Or you saw what looked like a lab report. They were just trying to get you to confess. They weren’t trying to get you to think it was me.”
“So where were you that night, Kyle? Because I know you weren’t home.”
