Waking Hours (36 page)

It didn’t jump, or even blink.

He picked it up and looked at it, his hand open and flat.

“Are you sick?” he asked the frog.

It was then that he heard a voice behind him say, “Sir, please step away from the pond.”

30
.

In the doctor’s office, Dani envied the man’s library. She recognized tomes on child psychology and cognitive development by Piaget and Bettelheim and Kochanska, even one entitled
Faith in Medieval Europe
written by Tommy’s friend Carl Thorstein (unless there was more than one Carl Thorstein). She noted a shelf full of hardbound collected volumes of scholarly journals, and popular magazines like
Wondertime
and
Parenting
, and books on education. In one section she saw books listing Ghieri as the author or coauthor. In another, books that were more historically than currently relevant, biographies of Fröebel and Rousseau and Dewey and Montessori, and the works of Freud, Adler, Jung, Malinowski, and others, in what Dani guessed were original leather-bound first editions.

The framed diplomas and citations and awards on the wall behind Dr. Ghieri’s desk indicated an extensive education, with PhDs from the Sorbonne in psychology and Princeton in sociology. Framed photographs below the diplomas told her Dr. Ghieri was an accomplished hunter and a successful lacrosse coach, also attested to by a display of trophies on a shelf. He had, on his desk, several framed photographs of what Dani assumed were family members. Also on his desk, she saw a closed laptop, a tobacco humidor, and an ashtray in which lay a meerschaum pipe carved in the shape of a bearded man’s head. The room smelled of tobacco, not a stale or sour smell but aromatic and sweet, more like baking bread. She finally noted, mounted high above a bookshelf where no one could reach it, a ceremonial Chinese sword. Its purpose was decorative, but she nevertheless found it odd to see a weapon on display in a child psychologist’s office.

“Amos will be here momentarily,” Ghieri said, glancing at the clock on the wall. “Punctuality is one of the first things we teach.”

Dani sat up in her chair when Amos entered. He looked like a clean-cut all-American boy, his fair hair neatly combed, his eyes a light hazel, his fair skin with just a faint spray of freckles across his cheeks, his school uniform hanging loosely on his gangly frame. When she shook his hand, it was surprisingly large and felt clammy and cold.

Dr. Ghieri explained the ground rules to Amos. Amos would talk only about the party he’d attended and the people who were there on the night that Julie Leonard was killed. He should not feel compelled to discuss his own personal or medical history.

Irene had told Dani she didn’t think she’d have any trouble getting a grand jury to subpoena the school for Amos’s psychiatric medical records if necessary. Compliance was another matter.

“Do you understand?” Dr. Ghieri asked.

“I think so,” Amos said.

“Just tell the police the same story you’ve told me,” Ghieri said.

“If you don’t mind, doctor,” Phil said, “it works better if we ask questions and take it one step at a time.”

“Of course,” the doctor said.

“How ya doin’, Amos?” Phil said. “You all right?”

The boy shrugged.

“You know why we’re here?”

“I think so.”

“We’re trying to figure out what went on at that party,” Phil said. “We understand that you were there, but that you left early. Who invited you?”

“Logan Gansevoort,” Amos said.

“How? How did he invite you?”

“On Facebook. He sent me a message.”

“And you knew him from grade school? It was where—East Salem Elementary?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Were any of the other kids at the party from East Salem Elementary?”

“Yes, sir.”

“People you knew?”

Amos nodded.

“Who?”

“I knew Liam from town camp. And Rayne and Khetzel, I think. But not the others.”

“Liam didn’t remember you,” Phil said. “The girls didn’t seem to know who you were either.”

“I was pretty quiet in grade school,” Amos said. “I didn’t know much English at first.”

“How was that for you?” Dani said. “Trying to fit in. It must have been pretty hard to make friends if you didn’t speak English.”

“This is getting into Amos’s personal history,” Dr. Ghieri cautioned.

“It’s okay,” Amos said. “I don’t mind.”

Ghieri gave Amos a withering gaze that said,
I will decide what you can talk about
.

“Just the kids at the party,” Phil said. “You didn’t really have a relationship with any of them except Logan, is that right?”

“Yes, sir.”

“You knew him from Cub Scouts? Pinewood Derby? You made a car together? What’d it look like?”

“It was silver,” Amos said. “It looked like metal, but it was wood.”

“Don’t most kids build their cars with their dads?” Phil said. “It’s unusual for two kids to do it with each other.”

“Logan’s dad was too busy,” Amos said. “My dad thought it would be better if I did it all on my own.”

“Did you do half and Logan half?” Phil asked.

“I did most of it,” Amos said.

“You and Logan won first prize?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Except that the local paper always runs a picture on the front page of the winners,” Phil said. “Did you see the story they ran after you won?”

“I don’t remember,” Amos said.

“Help me understand exactly how this might be relevant,” Dr. Ghieri said.

“Just that we found the newspaper,” Phil said, “and according to the newspaper, only Logan Gansevoort won. It doesn’t mention Amos at all. It looks to me like Amos did all the work and Logan took all the credit. Somebody did that to me, I’d be ticked off at him for a long time. I don’t think I’d ever forget it.”

“I didn’t care,” Amos said. “I just thought it was fun to win.”

Phil looked skeptical.

“You lost touch with Logan, but you got back in touch via Facebook,” Dani said. “Did he friend you or did you friend him?”

“I don’t remember,” Amos said. “I mean, you plug in what schools you went to and stuff and then people just show up on a list of suggested people and you click on whether or not you want to be their friends again.”

“Did you know Julie Leonard before the party?” Phil asked Amos.

“No, sir.”

“You never instant-messaged her in some anonymous chat room?”

“What part of anonymous don’t you understand?” Amos said.

“Amos,” Ghieri cautioned.

“It’s all right,” Phil said. “I phrased that poorly. Pardon my public education. So you had no contact with Julie Leonard, that you know of, prior to the party.”

“No, sir,” Amos said.

“You did have contact?” Phil appeared confused again.

“I was agreeing with the negative statement you made by echoing it,” Amos said.

“So, yes, you agree that you had no contact?”

“Yes,” Amos said.

Dani watched Amos closely, the way his eyes narrowed. His fingers became slightly arched instead of relaxed. His shoulders rose a quarter of an inch higher than they needed to be, and then he touched his nose, often a sign that someone was lying or about to lie. Phil was getting to him. Amos was clearly growing angry, frustrated by the stupid questions from the stupid man in the stupid sport coat who, for reasons Amos could not understand, had authority over him.

Dani knew the detective was anything but stupid. There was a method to his presentation, and possibly to his wardrobe choices.

“So Logan hits you up on Facebook about the party,” Phil repeated. “Did you save the message?”

“Our system automatically deletes e-mails and social network content after three days,” Ghieri said. “Students may, of course, print out or copy and paste anything they want to save.”

“You didn’t happen to print out Logan’s message, by chance?”

Amos shook his head.

“So the night of the party. Walk me through it. What happened?”

“I was at Starbucks,” Amos said. “It’s kind of a hangout. I’d earned a midnight pass.”

“Part of our system of rewards and reinforcements is to grant off-campus passes to students who’ve demonstrated consistency in various targeted behaviors,” Ghieri explained.

“Go on,” Phil urged Amos.

“I knew that was the night of the party. I was at Starbucks . . .”

“You drive there?”

“I took the shuttle,” Amos said. “My car is being repaired.”

“What’s wrong with it?”

“I don’t know,” Amos said. “It’s really loud.”

“Where’d you take it?”

“I took it to the Shell station in Ridgefield,” Amos said.

Dani had observed the student parking lot, a virtual fleet of Mercedes Benzes and Audis and BMWs. She’d also seen the St. Adrian’s shuttle around town, a white van that took students into town and back. Tinted windows had always given the van a sinister aspect, she thought.

“You were meeting Logan at Starbucks?” Phil asked.

Amos nodded.

“So he picks you up and then what?”

“We drove to his house.”

“Was anybody else in the car with you?”

“Terence and Parker,” Amos said.

“But you didn’t know them very well.”

“No.”

“What were they doing?”

“Smoking marijuana,” Amos said. “And drinking.”

“Did you have any?”

“I had a beer,” Amos admitted, looking shamefully at Dr. Ghieri. “But I don’t do drugs.”

“So why were you going to this party?” Phil asked. “What kind of a party did you think it was going to be?”

“I wasn’t really sure,” Amos said. “Kind of wild.”

“Wild in what way?”

“Well,” Amos said, struggling. “Logan said there would be girls there.”

“There usually are at parties,” Phil said. “So it was a mixer?”

Amos squinted. Dani couldn’t remember the last time she’d heard anybody call a party a
mixer
.

“Did Logan say there was going to be anything different about this particular party?” Dani asked.

“Yes,” Amos said. He looked at Dr. Ghieri, who nodded. “He said he thought there would probably be some skinny-dipping in the pool.”

“Swimming naked?” Phil said.

“Yes,” Amos said. “That’s generally what people mean when they say skinny-dipping.”

“That’s what you meant by wild?” Phil asked. “Things were going to get a little crazy?”

“Yes, sir,” Amos replied.

“Why were things going to get crazy?” Dani asked. “Did you have the impression that Logan was going to put something in the punch? Maybe GHB or roofies?”

“I don’t know what that is,” Amos said.

“Gamma-hydroxybutyric acid and Rohypnol,” she told him. “Date rape drugs.”

“No, ma’am,” Amos said. “I mean, Logan didn’t tell me what he was putting in the punch. But I knew it had something in it. That’s why I didn’t drink any.”

“So he was going to drug these girls,” Dani said. “And you went to the party to take advantage of them.”

“No,” Amos said.

“Then why?” Dani asked.

“Just to see what happened,” Amos said.

“So you weren’t going to participate,” Dani said. “You just wanted to watch. Did you stop to think that might be wrong?”

“That’s why I left,” Amos said. “At first I thought maybe it was just going to be sort of harmless.”