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Kennedy was certain she had heard wrong. Noah was just a boy. A boy from a good family. He wouldn’t have done something like burn his house down. Sure, he’d been angry at his dad, but still ... Noah Abernathy, a murderer?
The police had to have the wrong information.
“He just got in a fight with his dad.” Kennedy heard the tremor in her own voice. Her face flushed with every pair of eyes staring at her, but she had to convince them they were wrong. “They were upset at each other. That shouldn’t mean he’s a suspect.”
Dominic pursed his lips together. “How well do you know Noah Abernathy?”
Kennedy ignored her burning cheeks and tried to remember if she ever had a single conversation with him. So maybe she couldn’t tell the chaplain about his life goals and ambitions. But still ... a murderer?
“What about the senator?” she tried. “You can’t be as outspoken as he is without making people angry at you. What if he said something ... What if there was some bill ...?” She didn’t pay attention to politics unless her dad was railing on about some controversy or other. She didn’t have a clue what she was talking about.
“This is clearly a sensitive topic,” Dominic began, “not just because it involves a teenager that you all want to protect, but because of the nature of Noah’s fight with his dad.”
So this was how it would go. Now that his father had died, Noah would be dragged out of the closet and paraded through the streets for everyone in the Boston area to gawk at. If she thought the press made a field day out of her kidnapping with Noah’s little sister last fall, it would be nothing compared to this oncoming media frenzy.
No wonder Noah was hiding.
Or was he? Maybe he didn’t even know about his dad yet. Maybe he went out with some friends and had no idea what storm had rolled in on him and his family, a storm that was determined to strip him of all privacy and dignity.
“So Noah’s dad got mad when he found out his son is gay.” Nick was up out of his chair now and pacing around the dining room table. “That night his dad dies in a fire. It still doesn’t mean the two events are connected.”
“That’s why we’re here.” Dominic spoke with the patience of a preschool VBS school teacher. “Well, that’s why the detective is here. We need to get to the bottom of this, and we need to do it ASAP before the media blows it all out of the water. So if there’s anything else you can think of that you haven’t mentioned yet ...”
“He was texting someone.” Everyone turned to stare at Kennedy again. “I came out here a few minutes before Nick came. Noah was in the kitchen when he got a text.”
“Did he say anything?” Drisklay asked. “Did you see his reaction?”
“Yeah.” Kennedy could visualize the exact way the light from Noah’s screen had cast that the eerie green glow all around him. “He was out here in the dark. His phone beeped, and when he read it ...”
Drisklay leaned toward her. So did Carl and Sandy. Nick stopped his pacing.
Kennedy licked her lips. Maybe she shouldn’t have mentioned the text.
Dominic held her gaze from across the table. “What happened when he saw the message?”
Kennedy let out her air. Felt her lungs deflate. Her dad always told her that honesty wasn’t just the best policy. It was the only policy. Try telling that to Noah Abernathy right about now.
Everyone was waiting for her response. There was no way to take back what she’d already said. Nothing to do but proceed forward and hope for the best. Hope she wasn’t getting Noah into even more trouble.
“He looked at the message and said something like, ‘I’m gonna kill him.’”
Nick and the Lindgrens stared at her. Drisklay actually wrote something down in that tiny pad of paper he always carried around. Dominic gazed at his folded hands on the table. Kennedy didn’t meet anyone’s eyes. Had she just condemned an innocent boy?
It was possible the text wasn’t about his dad. Why would Noah ask to go home if he was still mad at his father? Besides, being mad and saying you’re going to kill someone is a lot different than actually committing murder. What had he been doing out in the kitchen in the dark anyway? She couldn’t remember. Her body was still wide awake, but her brain was exhausted, covered by a thick, heavy mental mist as powerful as Prospero’s magic in The Tempest.
Drisklay scraped his chair against the floor as he stood from the table. “Thank you folks for your time. I’ll be sure to keep in touch, and you have my number if you think of anything else.” He leveled his gaze. “Of course, you’ll call if you see or hear from the kid.” It wasn’t a question.
Nobody said anything as he passed down the hall and let himself out.
“Well then,” Sandy said, “what happens next?”
All eyes turned to Dominic, who still sat serenely at his place. Kennedy wondered how the chaplain stayed so stately and composed. Didn’t he know what was going on? Didn’t he care that an innocent boy had been accused of starting the fire that killed his own father?
Carl let out his breath. “I guess we should all try to get some sleep.”
Sandy sighed. “I supposed that’s all we can do right about now.”
“Not to step on any toes, ma’am,” Dominic interjected, “but I think there’s one more thing that we can do first. The most important thing of all.”
“That’s exactly right.” Carl grabbed Sandy’s hand on one side and Kennedy’s on the other. Nick sat back down, and everyone around the table joined hands.
“Now then.” Carl’s booming voice reverberated through the house, a harmonious sound that wrapped Kennedy’s soul up in peace. “Let’s pray.”