I SAT DOWN, SHAKEN. IT DIDN’T matter that he was an officer of the law. No one—no one—but our handler and some higher-ups should have known our identities. That was one of the things we’d been told. Now I questioned everything we’d been told.
In four years, we’d never been exposed. We kept the secret through Dad’s indiscretions. We never swayed from the legend(s), stayed normal, and boring, and low-key. And Hill blows it up like it’s not our lives at risk, like it’s nothing. The interrogation room got smaller. Hotter. The ticking clock was a slow jackhammer pounding at the wall.
“Why am I here?” I asked.
He said, “Believe it or not, I wasn’t at the school this morning for you. I might not have ever thought about you again—that’s the way this thing’s supposed to work, right? You don’t bother us, we don’t bother you.”
He talked like I was a lion at the zoo. I waited for him to answer my question. And thought about mauling him.
“Stepton High is my daughter’s school. Was my daughter’s school. She graduated back in ninety-seven. When things were still good here. Nick, or whatever your name really is, I care about this town more than I can say. I raised a family here. I’m willing to fight for it.”
He was losing me. “Is this a campaign speech? I’m not old enough to vote.”
“I want to know what you did to the Cruz boy.”
I leaned forward so fast I almost came off my seat. “What I did? I didn’t do anything.”
Hill’s head bobbed while he looked at me. If this were science class and I was something he viewed through a microscope, he’d be twisting all the little focus knobs. He said, “Sure you didn’t. I’m supposed to turn a blind eye, though. Let my town go to pot because you’re some G-man’s pet monkey?”
Okay, maybe he didn’t think he was being racist, but—
“I get it, to an extent, but I never signed on to ignore a murder.” He took another sip of his coffee while I replayed his last statement.
He didn’t sign on to ignore murder. Which meant he’s ignored other things. Like falsified crime stats, maybe. Eli, man, what were you digging into?
Hill threw me off by bringing up the Program, then implying I had something to do with Eli’s death. I settled down quickly. Voices flitted into my mind, ghosts from my old life. Not so much advice but overheard tactics on the formalities of the legal system, how to use them in your favor.
Interrogation Room Tip #1: Assume they’re always watching.
I checked out the mirror. Someone could be taking notes on the other side. Or there could be recording equipment. He’d just admitted he played a hand in sweeping crimes less severe than murder under the rug, though. Not something he’d want on tape. Still . . .
Interrogation Room Tip #2: If you’re talking, say stuff that makes you sound innocent.
“Eli committed suicide,” I said. “I saw the razor he used.”
Hill said, “About that, did you know we treat suicide like a crime? Obviously, if it’s truly what it appears to be, there’s no one to prosecute, but we don’t skimp on our procedures. We take pictures, catalog evidence, all of it. Except in the case of your pal Eli. EMTs were bagging him up before I could get a crime kit going. Fouled the whole thing.”
He talked about Eli like someone’s freaking lunch sandwich. Bag him up. Next order, please! “Maybe you should be talking to those EMTs.”
“Maybe you should tell me what happened between you two. That journalism room looked tossed a bit. You guys have a fight? He say something about your mama?”
“No,” I said. “He did mention yours.”
His chair legs screeched as his weight shifted. He reached across the table, grabbed me by the jacket while his fist hovered by his ear. I braced myself for the punch.
Interrogation Room Tip #3: Piss them off enough to hit you, and it’s a Get Out of Jail Free card.
He vibrated with tension, an internal struggle that could go either way.
A hollow thud sounded on the interrogation room door. He leaped backward like someone had walked in, realized we were still alone, and shouted, “What?”
“Need you in the hall, Sheriff,” a muffled voice said.
Hill rose with his Styrofoam cup. He walked past, switched the cup to his right in order to rest his free left hand on his holstered Taser. Subtle. He maintained eye contact until the last possible moment, then pounded the door with three hard strikes. The lock disengaged and he stepped outside.
I allowed myself a deep breath, sat calmly with my hands on the table.
When Hill returned, he kept glancing at the mirror as if he saw something he didn’t like in the reflection.
He jerked his head toward the door. “You’re free to go.”
This was a trick. It had to be. I hesitated.
Hill grabbed me under one arm and yanked me from the chair. “You may think you’ve gotten away with something, but that’s not true. One day, someone might just find you in some secluded room. Come on.”
The school must’ve called Mom; I looked forward to her ripping Hill a new one. In the reception area, the only adult present, other than the desk sergeant, was a white guy in a blazer and khakis. His hair was mostly dark with a little gray. He was bald up top and the exposed flesh was tanned, brown speckled with pink and red. He smiled wide, joking with the desk sergeant until he saw me.
His smile got wider. “You must be Nicky Pearson.”
“Nick,” I said. What I didn’t say was, “Who the hell are you?”
Smiley guy flashed his hundred-watt teeth at Hill. “I’ll take it from here, Rodney.”
The sheriff gave me one last vicious look, then stomped away. The desk sergeant handed me a Baggie with my cell, money, house keys, and a pack of gum. I checked my things while watching the stranger from the corner of my eye. When I was done I faced him, unsure of what would happen next.
He extended a hand. “I’m Rich Burke, the mayor of Stepton.”
Didn’t see that coming.
“The mayor?” I looked to the desk sergeant, who read the question in my eyes, nodded a confirmation, then went back to his paperwork.
“I know you’re wondering why the mayor is picking you up from jail.”
“Yeah.”
“I’m up for reelection and I’m looking for a running mate.”
An awkward pause. The desk sergeant snorted an obligation laugh, so I guessed that was a joke.
The mayor said, “Let’s talk in the car, Nick.”
Another ride from a stranger. Great. I followed him through the station doors, on edge. When I spotted the car, I longed for Hill and the interrogation room.
It was a dark blue BMW. The same one I’d seen outside of city hall. Mayor Burke was the guy Dad had been working for. The one he was afraid of.
Me and Dad had something in common after all.