The following day Luke and Oscar were on their way to the chapel for the memorial service for Mrs. Heckler. Dress code was enforced. Coat and tie for the boys, dresses for the girls—clothes usually reserved for chapel talks and sit-down dinners.
“Hey, Luke, do you have a second?”
Luke felt his heart beat a little faster. It was Pippa. Her cheeks looked pinker than usual, maybe from the wind, and it made her look softer, not as resolute. He’d avoided her at Animal Hour the night before; he’d decided to wean himself off his interest in her. But now here she was again, and looking good too.
Luke glanced at Oscar, who rolled his eyes and kept walking. “Try not to be late,” he called over his shoulder.
“Aren’t you heading to the service?” Luke asked Pippa.
“This will only take a minute.”
They veered off the path to go under the sycamore tree.
There was a bench there, donated in honor of a member of the class of 1998 who had died in a car accident, but neither of them sat down. It was an unwritten rule that only seniors were allowed to sit on the bench, and it would not be good if anyone caught you there. Luke had never attempted to see what would happen if he tried, and he wasn’t about to start now. Still, it would have been nice to have a seat. It was sort of awkward standing there.
Pippa took off her striped scarf and rewrapped it around her throat. Luke plunged his hands into his pockets and was trying to think of something to say when she finally spoke.
“Listen, I’m sorry if I’ve been a little brusque lately.”
“Oh. It’s okay.”
“No, it’s not. I’ve been quite rude, really. I don’t mean to, it’s just… Well, I’ve been burned a bit of late, and I have a hard time trusting people.”
“I can relate,” confessed Luke. He thought about all of the new “best” friends he acquired after his abduction. There were so many people who liked to coast on other people’s fame or notoriety. When he had first arrived on campus, his classmates wanted to make him into some sort of celebrity because of what had happened to him, and his story was told over and over with great embellishment. But Luke wanted no part of playing the victim, or the hero, for that matter. So he had learned early that the best way to deflect unwanted interest was to keep his cards close to his chest, and to confide in a select few.
“I know you can relate, and that’s why I quite like you, Luke,” Pippa said. She looked him squarely in the eye. “You’re what my friend Tamara would have called a brilliant egg.”
“A what? I’ve never heard that one before,” Luke said, embarrassed but also kind of psyched.
“It suits you.”
“Um…thanks? I think.”
“Don’t worry, it’s a compliment. I wish you could have met Tamara… Look, I know I’m a bit cagey, but I do have good reason…”
Luke could see in her face that she was conflicted. “Is there something you want to talk about? I mean, I want to say you can trust me, but that sounds like something strangers say to each other on one of those online dating sites.”
Pippa smiled. “It does, really. But I do think you’re genuine. I can’t talk about it now. It’s not you, it’s me, as the saying goes. But I just want to let you know that… I don’t know… Bear with me, if you will. I need to get some things sorted. And I emphatically don’t want anything to do with this whole Mrs. Heckler murder. The last thing I need is more police in my life.”
“More police?”
“Police. Police in general,” she added quickly. “You remember, I told you my mother was a barrister.”
“Oh. Right.”
“Luke! I’ve been looking for you.”
Luke was startled. He turned around to find Mr. P. approaching. He glanced back at Pippa, who was pulling at the ends of her scarf nervously.
“Hi, Mr. P.,” Pippa said. “Text me,” she whispered before slipping away.
The dean waved at her but was all business.
“Luke, could you please follow me? We’d like a word,” said Mr. P.
Luke nodded. “Sure.” He wanted to ask who we was, but he didn’t dare.
They walked together toward Archer, making small talk along the way. As they were about to enter the building, Luke saw Kelsey, who took in the situation and flashed an even more panicked expression than he’d just seen on Pippa. Luke gave her a quick nod as if to assure her that everything was cool, but he felt a pit forming in his stomach. What if they knew something? But then why single him out? Maybe because they thought they could break him. He decided to be strong. He’d stick to the plan. He only hoped the girls would, too. But judging from Kelsey’s reaction, it didn’t look good.
Instead of turning left into Mr. P.’s office, the dean made a right turn into Headmaster Thompson’s office. Luke surveyed the room nervously. He had only been in the wood-paneled office a handful of times before, and every time the atmosphere had been light, with so many other people crammed inside the rectangular room that it had felt festive. There was a decidedly different feeling today, one of tension and gloom. Even the subjects of the framed oil paintings on the wall seemed to stare down at him with suspicion. Although a fire crackled softly in the fireplace, the room felt cold and unwelcoming. Besides the headmaster, one of the police officers from the assembly was seated in the leather armchair, reviewing a manila file. He looked up and studied Luke carefully.
“Come on in, Luke,” said the headmaster. “Have a seat.”
Luke prayed the beads of sweat forming on his forehead were invisible. His tie felt tight around his neck. He quietly took a seat and felt three sets of eyes boring into him. The headmaster remained behind his desk, and Mr. P. sat on the radiator next to the window, folding his arms and staring at Luke.
“Luke, this is Chief Corcoran. I think you’ll remember he spoke at the assembly.” The headmaster motioned to the officer.
“Yes, hello,” Luke said.
The chief didn’t say anything. Luke shifted uncomfortably in his seat.
“Luke, you’re a leader here at school. I was telling Chief Corcoran that you have been on the student government since you were a first-year, and it’s most likely that you’ll be elected student body president next year. You’re a varsity soccer and lacrosse player, and a dorm prefect. A solid B-plus student,” said the headmaster, smiling.
Luke nodded, stifling an irrational urge to laugh at the headmaster lauding his average grades.
“I thought we’d bring you in, talk to you a little bit about what the situation is here. Maybe hear what you have to say,” said the headmaster.
“I’m not sure how I can help,” Luke said. “I barely knew Mrs. Heckler.”
The chief cleared his throat. “We’re more interested in collecting perspectives from around campus the night of the murder. Did you notice anything unusual?”
“No, sir.” Luke’s voice didn’t betray any of the panic he was feeling inside. Anything unusual? Holy crap. They obviously knew he’d been out of the dorm.
“Nothing at all? Nothing out of the ordinary that night? Everyone where they were supposed to be?”
Luke kept his gaze steady. “Yes, from what I recall.”
Inside, his stomach was roiling. He didn’t know what to do. If he admitted he’d been in the woods, there was no going back, and the consequences would be huge and irreversible. On the other hand, if he didn’t say something now, it could be worse for him if it ever did come out—he was breaking the school’s honor code by lying, and that was grounds for immediate expulsion. Not to mention, he didn’t like the idea of withholding any information that might help find the killer.
The chief continued staring at him, waiting for Luke to blink. Luke met his gaze, refusing to back down, feeling as if his life depended on it. Or at least, his life here at St. Benedict’s.
“Is there something specific you’re wondering about?” Luke asked. “Things have been pretty hectic, so my memory isn’t the best right now, but I want to help. Maybe if I knew exactly what time or place you’re wondering about, I can think harder about it.”
“Let’s talk about your roommate,” the chief said. “Oscar Weymouth. We found his student ID card in a very unusual place last night.”
Luke gulped, surprised by both the directness of the revelation and the fact that the ID was turning out to be the exact worst-case scenario he’d feared.
“Oh?” he asked, cursing himself that his voice came out all high pitched and nervous. “Where?”
The chief didn’t answer. “Did Oscar leave your room at all the night Joanna Heckler was murdered?”
“No.”
“No? Are you certain?”
Luke was definitely at a crossroads. It was now time to make a choice, one that he could not go back on, but he wasn’t going to turn on Oscar, not now, not without a chance to talk to him first about a plan.
“I’m certain I didn’t see him leave.”
Technically, that was true. Luke hadn’t seen him leave. He had left with him. He hoped they didn’t call him out on the semantics.
“Luke, I’ve heard a lot about you from Headmaster Thompson. And glancing through your folder, I’d say you pretty much toe the line,” said the chief.
Luke flinched. The chief was looking at his file? Was that legal? Suddenly Luke wished he could have a lawyer present. He shifted in his leather armchair.
“Luke has always been a fine member of the community,” added Mr. P.
Luke felt awash with relief that Mr. P. was coming to his defense. His words carried weight. He had actually gone to St. Benedict’s, and Luke was certain he had never ended up in the headmaster’s office for any sort of infraction. Even though he was still in his early thirties, it was hard for students to ever imagine him as a teenager. He was always so serious.
“There is one thing that I don’t quite understand, though,” said the chief, again staring at Luke intently. “Your friendship with Oscar. I’ve been learning quite a bit about him today, and it doesn’t seem as if the two of you are the most compatible.”
Luke tried to remain cool. “Oscar’s been my roommate since our first year. We were placed together, and, well, we’ve roomed together ever since.”
Luke thought of the day he met Oscar. At the time, Luke was a shy and slightly nervous fourteen-year-old who was escorted to campus by both of his overprotective parents as well as his oldest sister, Katie. He was from Georgetown and possessed some of the savvy that comes from growing up in a city, but the kidnapping the year before had turned him into an international celebrity. He was feeling pretty vulnerable starting at St. Benedict’s, knowing that everyone on campus knew everything about him. He didn’t want people to treat him differently or befriend him for the wrong reasons, like some people had at home. But that didn’t happen with Oscar. By the time Luke and his family found his room on the second floor of Nichols, Oscar had dismissed his own parents, and covered the wall with posters of old rebel bands like the Clash, the Ramones, and the Sex Pistols.
“Don’t expect any royal treatment,” Oscar had warned. “I’m not going to think you’re cool just because you’ve been on YouTube.”
Oscar had been the only one who was straight with Luke in those days, and it was totally refreshing. It was exactly what Luke had needed, and they had been best friends ever since.
“Yes, but why?” asked the chief. “Surely you can switch roommates, can’t you, Headmaster Thompson?” He turned to face the headmaster.
“Of course,” nodded the headmaster, now looking more serious than before.
“So why stick with Oscar?” asked the chief again.
“We’re friends,” said Luke.
“But you don’t seem to have much in common,” said the chief.
“That’s not true,” protested Luke. “We’re both on the lacrosse team, we both like edgy Netflix shows and sites like Funny or Die…” Luke’s voice faded. It all sounded so trite when you had to outline the reasons you liked someone.
The chief looked at him carefully. “It seems like Oscar is on his last legs here.”
Last legs? Why was he saying that now?
“Well, I know he likes to challenge authority but—”
“Challenge authority?” interrupted the chief. “How so?”
Did he say the wrong thing? It wasn’t anything new; for sure the chief had Oscar’s file there. “I don’t know, I mean, yes, he’s been busted before for certain things…”
“Then I’m sure you also know who suspended him last year for going into New Haven for the day without signing out.”
Luke’s mind raced. “Um…”
“Dean Heckler,” said the chief. “He’s the one who put Oscar one step away from expulsion. Came down hard on him, as I understand. I’m sure Oscar is not too fond of Dean Heckler.”
Luke didn’t know what to say. It was true, Oscar was no fan of Dean Heckler, but he really didn’t like any member of the faculty. He didn’t even really trust the cool teachers like Mr. Crawford—who Oscar insisted had arrested development and still wished he were a student at St. B.’s rather than a teacher. But if they were trying to imply that it was reason enough for Oscar to retaliate against Heckler’s wife, well, that was ridiculous.
“Oscar talks a big game,” said Luke. “But underneath, he’s a good guy.”
The chief gave Luke a look of disbelief that made it clear he was skeptical. He’s the type of guy who could extract confessions from innocent people, thought Luke. He wondered if the chief had ever met Dean Heckler before the murder. They were a lot alike.
“Look, sir, I understand how he might come off, but your perception of Oscar is all wrong. I feel like…” Luke hesitated. It was hard to describe how he felt about Oscar without sounding overly sentimental. “I’m definitely a better person because of Oscar. He’s sort of, you know, always looked out for me.”
“Did he?” asked the headmaster.
Luke turned to him and nodded. “I’m not sure I would have survived here without him. This place can be really intense.”
“But you’ve survived intense situations before, Luke,” the chief pointed out. “On your own.”
Luke nodded, knowing what the chief was alluding to but hoping they weren’t going to go there.
“I read all about you this morning, Luke. And I remember seeing you interviewed on, what was it? Good Morning America?” asked the chief.
Luke shrugged. “Could have been.” The fact was, Luke had been interviewed on most of the national morning shows. He’d gotten all sorts of attention after his abduction.
“You don’t like to talk about that, Luke?” asked the chief.
“It’s ancient history,” said Luke, pulling at his jacket cuff. The room was getting hotter.
“You were pretty brave,” said the chief.
“Luke showed tremendous courage,” interjected the headmaster. “To remain calm and show the strength and determination to escape, even in his weakened condition, was an impressive feat very few could have achieved.”
Luke squirmed. He hated this conversation. He felt the chief studying him carefully.
“May I show you something?”
“Sure,” said Luke, with the hope that this would change the subject from sneaking out.
The chief glanced at the headmaster, who nodded, before taking a large manila envelope off the desk and sliding out some photographs.
“What you are about to see is privileged. We don’t want you discussing this with any of your classmates, you understand?”
“Yes,” said Luke.
“These are crime scene photographs. Are you choosing to see them?” asked the chief.
“Uh-huh,” said Luke.
“What’s that?” snapped the chief.
“Yes, sir,” said Luke. He stomach was twisting into a knot.
“We can have your parents present for this, son,” said the headmaster, reaching his hand over the table.
“No, it’s okay,” said Luke.
The chief handed him the stack of photographs. Luke looked at the first one. It was of a body—Mrs. Heckler, no doubt facedown in a pile of leaves. Her dirty blond hair was splayed around her head, and her arms were opened wide by her sides, as if she had been reaching out. She was wearing jeans and a dark green coat, with a maroon scarf around her neck. He felt sad. She probably had no idea that when she chose this outfit that it would be her last, and then some kid would be in the headmaster’s office, staring at pictures of her dead body. He wondered if her parents were alive. His parents would be devastated if anything happened to him or his sisters. His kidnapping had almost killed them. Luke looked at the next photograph. It was a close-up of Mrs. Heckler’s head. There was no blood or anything. All he could really see was her hair and the scarf. He could tell it was a St. Benedict’s scarf, the one most students and teachers bought from the school store.
He wasn’t sure how long he was supposed to take looking at each picture, and he could tell that everyone in the room was watching his reaction carefully. The thing was, at this angle, the pictures could be of anyone. Of course he knew that it was Mrs. Heckler, but he couldn’t see her face or anything. And besides, reruns of shows like Law & Order were always on. Pictures of dead bodies didn’t seem that outrageous. Sure, the ones on TV were fake, but they didn’t look any different from these pictures.
“What do you think, Luke?” asked the chief.
“I think, it’s…um…sad.”
“It is sad,” said the chief, reclaiming the photographs and sticking them back in their envelope. “Any idea from those pictures how she was killed?”
“Strangled, maybe? By the Southborough Strangler?”
“And did you notice what was around her neck?” asked the chief.
“It looked like a St. Benedict’s scarf,” admitted Luke. He didn’t know what they were after. Why did they show him the photos?
“Good deduction,” said the chief. “It was, in fact, a St. Benedict’s scarf. And do you know whose it was?”
“No, I have no idea.”
“It was Oscar’s scarf. His name was sewn right there into the tag.”
Luke flushed. He hadn’t been prepared for that. Oscar’s scarf was the murder weapon? Luke felt suddenly dizzy. But no, this was Oscar they were talking about! His roommate of the last three years! There had to be an explanation. There was no way that Oscar had killed Mrs. Heckler. Right?
“Someone could have stolen his scarf.”
“Do you think so? Did he mention anything like that?” asked the chief.
“No,” Luke admitted.
“No,” the chief repeated smugly, leaning back in his armchair. “Which makes sense, because as it turns out, there were yearbook pictures taken two days ago, the day of Mrs. Heckler’s murder.”
The chief pulled out another photograph from his folder and slapped it on Luke’s lap. Sure enough, there was Oscar in the back row, wearing his St. Benedict’s scarf.
Luke felt his heart pounding, and for the first time, he realized that he was in over his head. Way over.
“So now we have Oscar’s ID at the scene of the crime, and his scarf used as the murder weapon…”
“Well, the ID is not really…” Luke was about to blurt out the fact that they were all there but immediately stopped himself.
“The ID is not really what?” asked the chief.
Luke shook his head. “Nothing. I was just going to say that people lose those all the time. And scarves.”
“Luke, now is the time to tell us anything you can think of about Oscar’s relationship with Mrs. Heckler,” said the headmaster.
“Relationship? I don’t think he really knew her.”
The headmaster and the chief exchanged knowing looks. Relationship? Luke wondered. Was he missing something?
Luke took a deep breath. “I promise you, I can’t think of anything.”
“Well then, we’ll have to start at the beginning, and you’ll have to tell me everything you know about Oscar from the first day you met him,” said the chief.
Great, thought Luke. That would take forever.
“I’ll leave you to it,” said the headmaster, rising. “Dean Palmer will stay with you. I have to make a speech at the memorial service, but I will be back in twenty minutes. Make sure you’re forthcoming, Luke.”
“Of course.”
What about all that talk at the assembly on how kids were not under suspicion, Luke wanted to ask. Was that all a show?