“Why were you back there?” I asked.
“What’s it matter?” He answered quickly, like he’d expected the question. “I was just hanging out.”
I’d let it slide for now. “Were you alone?”
“Yes.”
“And it was dark out, right?”
“Must of been a moon or something, ’cause it was light enough for me to tell it was Andy.”
“What was he doing?”
Keith licked his lips. They looked dry, the skin cracked and flaking.
“Do you want a sip of water?” I asked.
He shook his head and shut his eye. I wasn’t ready to let him fall back to sleep.
“Keith?” I prodded.
“He was walking by the side of the church,” he said. “Looking at, like, where the ground and wall meet.”
“You could see that?”
He opened his eye to cut me a look. “I’m not fucking making it up.”
“Did he have anything in his hands?”
“Don’t remember.”
“Could it have been another boy who looked like Andy?”
He tried to laugh, but coughed instead. I held the plastic cup of water for him and he took a sip through the straw. “Only one Andy Lockwood,” he said, shutting his eye again. “One’s enough.” I’d let him sleep. Didn’t want to hear more, anyway. I shouldn’t have been there in the first place.
I called Flip Cates as soon as I got to the hospital lobby.
“Cates,” he answered.
“It’s Marcus, Flip,” I said. “I’m taking myself off the investigation.”
“I’m glad to hear it,” Flip said. “Because I was about to take you off myself.”
“You talked to Reverend Bill?”
“Yes.”
“I don’t believe Andy could be responsible for that fire,” I said, “but as long as his name’s getting tossed around, I figure I’d better—”
“There’s something else,” Flip interrupted.
“What?”
“A woman called the hotline last night. She said she was driving by the church the night of the fire on her way to Topsail Beach and saw a kid—a boy—walking alone outside the building.”
“What time? Did she give a description?”
“She was vague on time. Between eight and nine. It was dark out, but she thought the boy had dark or brown hair and looked around thirteen. A young teenager or preteen, is what she said.”
“Did you get her name? Why’s she just calling now?”
“We got her name. She was renting a cottage the weekend of the fire and left that Sunday morning to go back to Winston-Salem. She didn’t make the connection between what she saw and the fire until the hotline number was broadcast on her local news yesterday.”
I rubbed the back of my neck. It felt like a noose was tightening around it.
“We’re going to ask Laurel if we can search Andy’s room,” Flip said.
I don’t know why I was surprised. If we had this kind of information on another kid, I’d expect the same action. But Andy? It seemed like overkill.
“Okay,” I said, after a minute. “Keep me in the loop, all right?”
Chapter Twenty
Andy
I WAS MR. POPULARITY AT SCHOOL TODAY. That’s what Miss Betts called me. They showed the Today show on the TV in all the classrooms. Everybody saw me. My friend Darcy said I was awesome. A boy I don’t really know said, “Next, your ugly mug’ll be on the cover of People magazine.” He was the only one who said a mean thing, and I didn’t mind. Could I really be on the cover of People?
Miss Betts had me tell what it was like to be on TV in front of everybody. Don’t brag, I kept saying inside my head.
Remember, we don’t brag.
After school, I sat on the bench at the bus place when my friend Max showed up.
“Hey, Andy,” he said. He was in the ninth grade but was way taller than me. “I heard about your lighter,” he said. “That sucked.”
“Yeah,” I said. “If you go on a plane, don’t put a lighter in your sock.”
“I’ll remember that,” Max said. “You got any coffin nails on ya?”
“Sure.” I took off my backpack and put it on the bench. I reached into the secret zipper place to find my cigarettes. I liked how Max called them “coffin nails.” When you first had one, you coughed a lot. I didn’t get the “nails” part, though.
I found my package of coffin nails and gave him one. I took one for me, too, and he lit them with a cool green lighter.
“You’re in the market for a new lighter now, I guess, huh?” he asked.
I used to think “in the market” meant going to the store, but I now I got it. “Yeah,” I said. “You wanna trade me for that one?”
Me and Max were good traders. I got my old lighter from him. And one time a pen with water in it that had a girl in a bathing suit. You turned the pen upside down to make her bathing suit come off and then she was naked. I only had the pen for one day, because Max wanted it back. He traded me a whole package of cigarettes for it.
“You can have this lighter for five bucks,” he said.
“I don’t have five bucks,” I said. “I’ll trade the rest of my coffin nails for it.”
“You only got four left, dorko. What else you got in that book bag?”
I took out my three books, my inhaler, my iPod. Two sticks of gum. A matchbox car.
“Why you carryin’ around a retarded matchbox car?” he asked.
“I don’t know,” I said. I didn’t. Matchbox cars were for little kids.
I saw something at the bottom of my book bag. “Look!” I pulled out a picture a girl named Angie sent me. I was sure Max wouldn’t call the picture retarded.
“Oh, mama!” Max licked his lips. He looked like he wanted to eat Angie’s picture.
“It’s my favorite,” I said. “I have four pictures.”
“Who is she?” Max asked.
“My friend Angie.”
“Your friend Angie’s got some bodacious hooters.”
Angie sat on a motorcycle in her picture with shorts and a shirt that let you see a lot of her hooters. Hooters are breasts. One day I said, “Emily’s got almost no hooters,” and Mom started yelling how we never call breasts hooters. But around Max, I still did.
“I’ll trade you the lighter for this picture,” Max said.
I had to think hard. I’d miss Angie’s picture a whole lot. It was bent though. Kind of crinkly from being in my book bag. Max’s lighter wasn’t bent at all.
“Okay,” I said. We traded fair and square. I’d have to hide the cool green lighter good, like in the secret zipper part of my book bag where I kept the coffin nails. I didn’t like hiding things from Mom, but sometimes I had to.
The bus came and I got on it but Max didn’t. He took a different bus than me. I waved to him, but he was staring at Angie’s picture and didn’t see me. I missed Angie’s picture all of a sudden. I’d probably have more in the mail when I got home, though. Then maybe Mom or Maggie could take me to the store.
I wanted to see if my face was on the cover of People.
Chapter Twenty-One
Laurel
FROM THE PORCH OF OUR HOUSE, I could see the lights on the mainland across the sound. It was the first night warm enough to be outside without a sweater, and I welcomed the salty balm of the air as I sat on the old glider, my feet propped up against the railing. Maggie was studying at Amber Donnelly’s and I’d finally gotten Andy settled down enough to fall asleep and could take a minute for myself.
I’d really had to rein Andy in today, his first day at school since being on the Today show. I had to remind him not to brag about his heroism or newly found celebrity status. I was beginning to wonder if appearing on TV had been a good idea. Today’s mail brought dozens more cards and letters from around the country, and I knew he was being inundated with e-mail. For a boy whom the world ordinarily treated with sympathy, curiosity or suspicion, such a
ttention was heady stuff.
I heard a car door slam, the sound rippling across the water. Standing up, I peered around the corner of the house and saw the tail end of a pickup in my driveway. Marcus?
The doorbell rang as I walked back into the house. I pulled the door open to see him standing on the front porch.
“Is everything okay?” I asked. It was unusual for Marcus to show up like that, and I thought of Maggie, the only one of my small family not safe at home.
“Mostly okay.” The porch light caught concern in his smile. “Just wanted to run a thing or two by you. Can I come in?”
“What does mostly okay mean?” I asked as he walked past me into the living room.
“Let’s sit on the porch,” he said. “It’s a great night.”
I led the way back through the family room to the porch. “Do you want some iced tea?” I asked.
“I don’t need anything.”
I sat on the glider once again, but without the sense of calm I’d had earlier. I couldn’t recall the last time I’d been alone with Marcus. He visited Maggie and Andy frequently, because I decided long ago that whatever happened in the past, I wouldn’t stand in the way of his relationship with them. I knew he loved them. My guidelines were simple: always let me know where you’re taking them and when they’ll be back, and no boats of any sort. So he visited them, but he didn’t visit me. My arms automatically folded themselves across my chest, holding everything in. Holding me together.
“I wanted to let you know I’m not part of the fire investigation any longer,” he said, sitting down on the old wicker rocker.
I wasn’t sure why he’d make a special trip to tell me that. “Because Andy was there?” I asked.
“Because…there’s some small…right now it’s only hearsay and I’m sure it will stay only hearsay, but—”
I saw his discomfort, and it wasn’t at being alone with me. It was something else.
“But what?” I prompted.
“We’ve had some reports that Andy was outside the church shortly before the fire.”
I still wasn’t getting it. “What do you mean?”
“Look, this is all confidential, okay?” he said. “I shouldn’t even be telling you, but I don’t want you to be blindsided by it.”
“By what?”
“I went up to Chapel Hill today and talked to Keith Weston, and—”
“They’ve taken him out of the coma?” That sounded like good news.
“Yes. And Reverend Bill went to see him and Keith told him he saw Andy outside shortly before the fire. So I went to see him myself and he told me the same thing.”
“Why would he be outside?” I asked.
“I don’t know. But we also had a woman call the hotline to report seeing a boy with…a small stature outside the church that evening. And Emily Carmichael said that Andy disappeared for a while before the fire. Then there’s that bit about him hiding a lighter in his sock.”
“Oh, Marcus,” I said. “You don’t honestly think Andy had anything to do with the fire, do you?”
“No, I don’t. But no one’s reported seeing anyone else outside. So he has to be ruled out.”
I was more annoyed than worried. “Okay, Marcus,” I said. “So let’s say it was Andy. Where did he get the gasoline or whatever was used? How did he get it to the church, huh?”
“I know it doesn’t make sense,” he said. “And I’m sorry he’s being dragged into this. I just wanted you to hear it from me first, all right? We—they—have to explore every possibility.”
Panic rose inside me, expanding in my chest. “I’m mad!” My fists curled around the edge of the seat cushion. “I’m mad you could…go along with this. That you could even think about it. You need to tell whoever’s doing the investigation to leave Andy out of it.”
Marcus didn’t respond, and I continued. “Keith’s a troublemaker,” I said. “He smokes dope and he’s done things you don’t know about.”
“I know.”
“You know? You know about the truancy? Possession of marijuana?”
He nodded. “Sara talks to me sometimes.”
I felt a kernel of jealousy that surprised me. Sara was my best friend. Why didn’t I know that she’d confided in Marcus? Why didn’t I know that Marcus cared enough to talk to her about Keith?
“Well, maybe Keith set the fire,” I said. “Why else would he be trying to blame it on someone else? Someone who can’t really defend himself?”
“He’ll be questioned, but let’s face it, why would he set a fire and get trapped by it?”
“Why would Andy set a fire and get trapped by it?” I snapped.
“Well, he didn’t get trapped, did he?”
I stared at him. “It was just lucky he found his way out.”
“Or he wanted to be seen as a hero, and he’s the only one who seemed to know the safe way out of the building.”
“Marcus!”
He held up his hands as if to ward off a blow. “Devil’s advocate, Laurel,” he said. “I’m just trying to think the way the investigators will.”
“Of which you’re one.”
“Hi, Uncle Marcus.”
I looked up quickly at the sound of Andy’s voice. He stood in the doorway between the family room and the porch in his pajamas, his eyes squinty with sleep. I changed my expression from angry to benign.
“Hey, Andy.” Marcus got up and pulled Andy into a hug.
Judas, I thought.
“Are you fighting with Mom?” Andy asked.
“We’re having a noisy talk,” Marcus said. I was glad he could find his voice. Mine was trapped somewhere behind my breastbone. “You ever have noisy talks with people?”
“Sometimes.” Andy smiled.
“Go back to bed, sweetie,” I managed to say.
“I’ll take him.” Marcus put his hand on Andy’s shoulder. “Come on, Andy.”
I thought of stopping him, concerned he would say something to Andy that would worry or confuse him, but I seemed to be frozen to the glider. And, anyway, Marcus wouldn’t want Andy upset any more than I would.
I listened to their footsteps on the stairs inside the house.
I remembered the agent interviewing Andy at the hospital, how he’d needed me as a translator of sorts. If they talked to him again, I had to make sure I was present. I imagined him being questioned by interrogators not so much smarter than him, but more adept at thinking and reasoning. People with an agenda. I couldn’t let that happen.
When he returned to the porch, Marcus surprised me by sitting next to me on the glider. He gave me a hug and for a moment, I was too stunned to pull away. But only for a moment.
“Marcus, please don’t.”
He let go, then leaned forward with a sigh, elbows on his knees.
“I know Andy’s innocent, and that’ll come out,” he said quietly. “But there are a lot of people who don’t know him. Who don’t see what you and I see when we look at him. They see an uncool kid who wants desperately to be cool. To be a hero.”
“It’s…it’s ridiculous.” I still felt unsettled by the sudden hug. I’d forgotten how he smelled. It was a scent I would always associate with longing. With the sea. With deceit.
“I’ll go,” he said, standing up. “Stay here—I’ll let myself out.” But he didn’t make a move toward the door. Instead, he put his hands in his pockets and looked toward the dark water of the sound and the lights on the mainland. He wanted to say something more to me; I could see the war inside him.
“What?” I asked.
He looked down at me, letting out a sigh. “They want to search Andy’s room,” he said. “Look into getting a lawyer, Laurel.”
Chapter Twenty-Two
Marcus
WHEN I GOT HOME FROM LAUREL’S, I made a Coke-and-peanuts cocktail, then climbed to the roof of my tower to think. There were a couple of old lounge chairs up there, but I liked sitting on the oceanside edge of the roof itself, my feet hanging over the side of the bui
lding. A couple of women I’d dated refused to sit on the edge with me. One was so afraid of heights that she wouldn’t sit on the roof at all. You’re a fool if you don’t install a railing up here, she’d told me. Didn’t bother calling her again.
Laurel and Jamie once sat up here with me. It was a hot summer night when I was still doing the renovations. I must have spoken to Jamie on the phone, telling him I was wiped. Next thing I knew, they’d gotten a babysitter and showed up with a bowl of gulf shrimp and a bottle of sparkling cider. We sat on the edge of the roof for an hour at least, talking and eating, dropping shrimp tails onto the patio below for me to clean up the next morning. Maybe Laurel had been uncomfortable sitting between Jamie and me, but she hadn’t been at all afraid to sit on the edge of the roof.
I shook my head now, thinking of her. Man, I’d kicked a few holes in my ethical boundaries today. Taking it upon myself to talk to Keith before anyone else could. Telling Laurel about the search. But she had to know how serious this had become. I pictured her after I left, going into Andy’s room, watching him sleep. He might have a little smile on his face. I’d seen him sleep like that a time or two.
In my mind’s eye, Laurel reached out, pulling the covers over Andy’s shoulders. I saw them both—two people who’d always have my heart—and I wished I could protect them from what I was afraid their future held.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Laurel
1990
I SLEPT NEARLY NONSTOP FOR DAYS AFTER JAMIE and Maggie left. I can’t say I was happy they were gone, because nothing made me happy, but with Jamie gone, I could sleep all day if I wanted to without feeling guilty. With Maggie gone, I didn’t have to feel her disdain or listen to her cry or worry about plunging a knife into her heart or throwing her into the sea. I didn’t have to feel Jamie’s helplessness. So, while there may not have been happiness, there was at least relief in my solitude.
But after three or four days, I awakened to find Marcus standing near the end of my bed, silhouetted against the evening sky. His arms were folded across his chest. I was so dopey with sleep that I wasn’t even startled to see him there.