Authors: B. A. Shapiro
“And so is Alexa,” Suki said, her voice returning. She placed her hand on Alexa’s shoulder.
“Thanks so much for coming,” he said to Alexa. “I know this couldn’t have been easy for you.”
Especially after yesterday
, Suki couldn’t help finishing his sentence in her head, but she said nothing. Neither did Alexa.
He led them into a small room with a beat-up metal desk and a half dozen chairs that had seen better days. Prints of colonial Witton hung on three walls. The fourth was covered with children’s crayon drawings of the police station. After motioning them to be seated, he walked behind the desk, but he didn’t sit. Instead he leaned toward them and, looking at Alexa, said, “Jonah’s dead.”
Alexa moaned softly in the back of her throat and began to cry.
Suki gripped the arms of her chair and bit the inside of her mouth, remembering the certainty with which Alexa had spoken those exact same words yesterday. “
Jonah’s dead … I know he is
.”
Suki thought of Jonah as he had been on the field trip to the Science Museum she’d chaperoned last fall, joking and goofing off, charming all the girls. She thought of Darcy Ward, Jonah’s mother, who was assistant manager at the Witton Savings Bank and always had a smile and a friendly word to say whether you were opening an account or had bounced a check. What kind of hell was Darcy going through now?
Suki blinked and glanced over at Alexa. She thought of all the wild predictions her mother had made in the grip of her psychosis. How every once in a while, one of them came true. How could Alexa have known? Suki reached into her purse and handed Alexa a wad of tissues. Then she patted her daughter’s hand in what she hoped was an encouraging manner and turned her attention back to Pendergast.
He was watching her. When their eyes met, he nodded and sat down behind the desk. Two more men entered the room and took seats on either side of them. One was the chief of police, Charlie Gasperini, who had been a fishing buddy of Stan’s—and Alexa’s. From the time Alexa was a little girl until she was about twelve, she and Stan and Charlie used to go fishing together on Saturday mornings. Charlie and Suki were both on the Friends of the Library advisory board. Pendergast introduced the other policeman as a state cop from the DA’s office who specialized in homicide. Suki didn’t catch his name. Had the detective told Charlie Alexa had been here yesterday telling a wild story that had inexplicably come true?
The room was suddenly very warm. And very full. Suki felt smothered by all the maleness around her. They were so big and so many. She and Alexa were so small and so few.
“Alexa wants to tell you what happened,” Suki said, deciding it was better to offer the information than to be asked. “She wants to help in any way she can.”
Charlie smiled warmly. “Would either of you like something to drink? Coffee? Soda?” When they both shook their heads, he turned to Alexa. “Are you seventeen yet?” he asked.
Alexa tried to speak, but only a high squeak came out of her mouth. She swallowed hard and her voice quivered when she finally answered, “I turned seventeen in January.”
“Your mother is, of course, welcome to stay,” Charlie explained, “but at seventeen you’re considered an adult under the law. If you’d be more comfortable speaking to us alone, that would be fine, too.”
Alexa lunged for Suki as Suki lunged for her. “No,” she said at the same time Suki did. “No,” she repeated more loudly. “I want her to be here.”
Kenneth Pendergast took over the interview. “Fine,” the detective said. “Why don’t you just start from the beginning, Alexa? Take it slowly and tell us exactly what happened tonight.” His use of the word “tonight” gave Suki hope that he had not told his colleagues about Alexa’s prediction. Yet.
“I’d like to call a lawyer,” Suki said, before Alexa could speak.
Alexa looked at her in horror, as if she had somehow let her down, and Pendergast and Charlie Gasperini exchanged a quick glance.
“You’re of course welcome to call your attorney, Mrs. Jacobs,” Pendergast said. “But at this point, Alexa is just a friendly witness. She came to us of her own volition. As a good citizen.”
“
Dr
. Jacobs,” Charlie corrected the detective, then leaned forward and touched Suki’s knee. “We’re very appreciative that you’ve come, Suki. A serious crime has been committed and we want to catch whoever did this as quickly as possible.” He gave Alexa a sad smile. “I’m sure the Wards appreciate it, too.”
Alexa threw a scared glance in Suki’s direction, then sank more deeply into her chair. She began twisting her rings.
Suki looked at the two Witton policemen and the silent state cop; all were sitting stiffly in their chairs, looking steadily back at her. She wanted to believe them. To believe they perceived Alexa to be a friendly witness. To believe they thought Alexa had done nothing wrong. That she was, in fact, doing the right thing.
“Time is important here, Suki,” Charlie said.
She could call Mike Dannow. He was a well-known nice guy, unable to turn down pro bono cases, doggedly working unchargeable hours, ready to help any friend—or any passing acquaintance—in need. But it was almost eleven o’clock on a Friday night, and she had no idea where he lived. Although there probably was an emergency number on the answering machine at his office—
“Please help us get to the bottom of this as quickly as possible, Suki,” Charlie pressed. “A child has been murdered.”
Alexa whimpered.
Suki turned and took one of Alexa’s ice cold hands in both of hers. “Okay, honey,” she said. “Why don’t you just tell them what you told me?”
The three men visibly relaxed at her words. Pendergast and the state cop each took out a pen and small notebook. Charlie smiled.
As Alexa told her story Suki was too concerned with the policemen’s responses to concentrate on her daughter’s words. She watched each of their faces in turn. Did Charlie’s frown connote disbelief? Did Pendergast’s nod mean he thought Alexa was telling the truth? That he believed Jonah’s death had nothing to do with what had happened yesterday? Was the state cop incapable of speech? She felt as if they, or she, were underwater, for only snippets of their conversation reached her.
“Had no idea he had a gun …”
“You were the driver?” Pendergast’s voice was very loud, then it grew soft, and then loud again. “… three others?”
“… two-door Toyota Celica …”
“… he leaned over the front seat …”
“… just one shot …”
Suki’s eyes scoured the policemen’s inscrutable faces, trying to read their thoughts. What did Jonah’s death mean for Alexa? she couldn’t help wondering, even as her heart ached for the dead boy’s mother. Alexa had taken Devin home, knowing he had committed a crime.… She had left Jonah hurt and dying, alone on the road.… She had seen him motionless, covered with blood, twenty-four hours before he had fallen.
“I think I remember headlights,” Alexa was saying. “Maybe a car even passed us.”
Suki jerked to attention.
“Did you see who it was?” Pendergast asked. “What kind of car?”
Alexa played with her rings. “Something dark,” she said. “Something big. Blue, I think. American.”
The detective looked at his boss. “Our anonymous caller—sounds like he might have seen something.”
Charlie stood. Without meeting Suki’s eye, he thanked Alexa and, mumbling something about an APB, quickly left the room.
Pendergast rubbed his beard with an absent gesture. “Where’s the gun?” he asked.
“Devin was going to throw it in the river,” Alexa said. “He took it with him.”
“People have no idea how sophisticated our forensics are now.” Pendergast’s voice was nonchalant, as if he were carrying on a casual conversation at a dinner party. “Do you know we can get a good print off a gun that’s been underwater for years?” he asked Alexa. When she didn’t respond he resumed his detective-questioning-a-witness tone. “Do you know where Devin got the gun?”
Alexa raised her eyes. “His father?” Her answer was a question.
The detective nodded. “How are your grades?”
Startled, Alexa shrugged. “Good,” she said.
“Excellent,” Suki corrected. “Alexa’s planning to apply to almost all the top schools in the fall—early admission to Princeton.” She could hear that the pride with which she usually dispensed this information was missing from her voice. She curled her hands into fists.
“I know you’ve never been in any trouble with the police, Alexa,” Pendergast said, “I assume it’s the same at school?”
“No trouble,” Suki answered for Alexa, her nails cutting into her palms. “Never any trouble at all.”
The detective looked at her with a gentle smile. “Please let Alexa answer the question.”
“A few detentions,” Alexa said, keeping her eyes averted from her mother’s. “Skipping class, talking.” She shrugged. “You know, the usual stuff.”
Suki stared at her in surprise. This was the second time this evening she had caught Alexa in a lie. She’s a teenager, Suki reminded herself. Jen said all teenagers lied, that it was an occupational hazard of adolescence. She, herself, had lied to her own mother when she was Alexa’s age. More than once.
“And the boys?” Pendergast flipped through his notebook. “Devin McKinna, Brendan Ricker, Sam Cooperstein? Are they all boy scouts?”
A ghost of a smile crossed Alexa’s face. “Not exactly boy scouts,” she said. “But they’ve pretty much managed to keep out of real trouble.”
“Cooperstein … Sam Cooperstein …” He frowned. “Not Ned Hunt’s new stepson?”
Suki nodded. Ned Hunt was a sergeant on the Witton police force. He and Nancy Cooperstein had had a New Year’s Eve wedding.
The detective’s frown deepened.
A uniformed officer stuck her head in the door and told the state cop someone from the medical examiner’s office was on the phone for him. Still without uttering a word, he stood and left the room.
Pendergast leaned forward in his chair. “I can’t thank you enough for coming in,” he said to Alexa. “Your information has been a terrific help.”
“So we’re free to go?” Suki jumped from her chair.
“Of course,” he said. “You were always free to go—you came to us, remember?”
“Right.” Suki unclenched her fists and stretched out her aching fingers. They had come. They were free to go. He understood Alexa was a good kid who had gotten a bad break. He realized that yesterday had been some kind of bizarre coincidence. It was going to be okay.
Suki turned to Alexa, but Alexa appeared not to have heard the detective. Her eyes were unfocused and her body hung limp in the chair. Suki knelt in front of her. “We’re going home, honey,” she said softly, pushing Alexa’s hair behind her ear. “It’s time to go home.”
Alexa nodded and stood, but her movements were stiff, uncoordinated.
Suki put her arm across Alexa’s shoulders to steady her and led her to the door. “You’ll want to talk to us again?” she asked the detective.
“We’re going to need an official statement, and I’m sure we’ll have more questions after we’ve talked to the boys. But why don’t you just go on home now and try to get some rest?” he said. “There’s nothing that can’t wait till morning. I’ll call you then with an update.”
When they got home Suki gave Alexa a Valium and told her she’d stay with her until she fell asleep. “Do you want to talk?” she asked. “About anything? About yesterday?”
“No,” Alexa said, curling her body away.
“I think we need to at least discuss what happened—”
“Nothing happened yesterday!” Alexa cried, whipping herself around to face Suki. “It was like you said, I fell asleep. Had a nightmare.”
“But it was a nightmare that came true,” Suki said gently. “That’s some kind of a nightmare.”
“You’re the hotshot psychologist.” Alexa sat up and glared at her mother. “You figure it out. My subconscious mind guessed what would happen? I was worried because Brendan was mad at Jonah, so I turned it into a dream? I don’t know—you tell me.”
“Did you know Brendan was mad at Jonah?” Suki asked quickly. If Alexa had been aware the boys were feuding, her psychological reading of the events was quite plausible.
Alexa set her lips in a tight line and nodded.
Suki could see she was holding something back. “So you
did
know Brendan was mad at Jonah?”
Alexa’s head fell forward. “Yeah,” she whispered, her anger dissipated. “I knew.”
“Let’s leave it there, then.” Suki knew it was far from that simple—and recognized that Alexa wasn’t telling the whole story—but she also knew they needed to put the issue to rest for the moment. She reached out to take Alexa in her arms, but Alexa threw herself back down on the bed and turned her face to the wall.
“You don’t have to stay,” she mumbled.
Suki didn’t answer and she didn’t leave. She sat on the edge of her bed until Alexa’s breathing became deep and even. Then she took two Valiums.
Still, even with the pills, Suki couldn’t sleep. She paced the house, thunderstruck by what had happened. By what might yet be to come. She thought of Alexa, of her mother, of Lindsey Kern. She paced some more.
Kenneth Pendergast’s call came at seven the following morning. Suki was in the kitchen, waiting, and picked up the phone on the first ring.
“We haven’t been able to find either the gun or the witness.” Pendergast’s voice was weary.
The line hung with heavy silence. “Is there something else?”
His sigh was audible over the phone wires. “A complication has arisen.”
Suki said nothing. The blue-and-white kitchen, a room as familiar to her as her own body, suddenly looked foreign, as if it belonged to another woman. A whooshing sound filled her ears, and the doorway to the dining room elongated, as if it were being pulled into the distance on a railroad track. She gripped the edge of the counter for support and closed her eyes against the illusion. “What kind of complication?”
“The boys say they weren’t with Alexa.”
“That’s impossible,” she sputtered. “They’re lying.”
“You may be right, Dr. Jacobs,” he acknowledged, “but we need you and Alexa to come back down to the station. At the moment it appears all three have an alibi.”
CHAPTER FOUR