Brynn gave the same answer I was going to give: melting glaciers. Then a lady from the office came into the room. I saw her look right at me as she walked toward Miss Betts. She whispered to her. Then Miss Betts looked right at me, too.
“Andy,” she said, “gather your things and go with Mrs. Potter, please.”
“Why?” I asked.
“Mrs. Potter will explain why to you.”
I stuffed my books and notebook in my backpack, kind of mad because I didn’t want to miss the rest of my class. Mrs. Potter was very, very old. She smiled when I walked toward her. She put her arm around me and we left the room.
When I got in the hallway, I saw a policeman standing there looking at me. He wasn’t smiling. Everything I did that day ran through my mind really fast. Did I do something wrong? I couldn’t think of anything.
In the hall, Mrs. Potter said, “Andy, this is Sergeant Wood. He’d like to talk with you for a few minutes.”
He was big. I didn’t want Mrs. Potter to leave me alone with him, but I could tell she was going to. My heart beat hard as I walked with him to the office. He had a gun! I saw it on his waist, like inches away from me. I’d never seen a real gun that close up. Mrs. Potter said, “Use the counselor’s office,” so we went in there. The policeman closed the door. I had trouble breathing all of a sudden. My inhaler was in my backpack on the floor. I didn’t need it yet, but I liked that it was there in case.
“You can sit,” he said to me.
I sat down in a chair by the tall file thing. He sat down in a chair by the window. The room was little. I didn’t like being that close to his gun. He had a big badge on his chest with the word sergeant on it and above the badge was a skinny flag, like an American flag, but without enough stripes.
“Andy, you have the right to remain silent,” he said. Then he said a bunch of other things really fast, but all I kept thinking about was that I had the right to remain silent. He rubbed his chin when he was finished talking. “Did you understand what I just said to you, Andy?” His eyes were really blue, like Uncle Marcus’s. “About your right to remain silent?”
“Yes, sir.”
“It means you don’t have to talk to me right now. I’m going to ask you some questions, but it’s your right not to answer them.”
I nodded. It sounded stupid for him to ask me questions if I could be silent, but sometimes people don’t make sense. I guessed this was just one of those times.
“You also have the right to have a parent present while I talk to you,” he said. “Do you understand that?”
“Yes, sir,” I said, even though I was very confused. Mom wasn’t there, but he was talking to me anyway.
“I want to talk to you about the night of the fire,” he said.
“Okay,” I said.
“Did you go outside at all during the lock-in?” he asked.
I didn’t know what to do. I could be silent. Even though he’d turned a little in the chair and I couldn’t see his gun anymore, I knew it was still there. Any minute he could pull it out and shoot me. I thought I better answer him, but I was going to have to lie. What if he had one of those lie detector machines with him? My windpipe tightened up, but I was afraid to reach for my backpack. He might think I was reaching for a gun, too.
“Did you go outside at all during the lock-in?” he asked again.
“No, sir,” I said.
“You didn’t go outside during the lock-in?”
I shook my head. Why was he asking me another time? I leaned over to try to see under his chair to see if he had the lie detector machine hidden there. I only saw his feet.
“We had a few reports that you were seen outside the church during the lock-in,” he said.
My shirt felt wet at my armpits. I’d forgotten to use the deodorant that morning. Mom added it as a new thing in pencil on the edge of my Get Ready in the Morning chart. I always missed it. “I didn’t go out,” I repeated.
“You were involved in a fight with Keith Weston at the lock-in, is that correct?”
Maybe that’s what this was about. He was trying to figure out who started the fight first. “He called me a name,” I said.
“And you were very angry with him.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Angry enough to start a fire.”
“What?” He really confused me now.
“Did you start the fire, Andy?”
“No, I’m the one who rescued people,” I said. He had me mixed up with someone else.
“Well, why don’t you tell me how you rescued people?” he asked.
That was easy. I’d told the story so many times it came out of my mouth as easy as facts about global warming. I told him about climbing through the boys’ room window and crawling over the air-conditioner box and everything.
“Okay, Andy.” He stood up. The handle of the gun was right next to my eyes! “You can go back to your classroom now. Thanks for your help.”
“You’re welcome.”
I left him and went back to Miss Betts’s room. The class was over and she had to help me figure out where I was supposed to go next. Once my day gets out of order, it’s confusing. She told me I should go down the hall to my art class, and then she said, “How did your talk with the policeman go?”
“Good.” I tried to sound happy. Then I walked to art class. On my way, I thought about the policeman’s questions and my answers, and I decided it would have been smarter to remain silent. Even if he did have a gun.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Laurel
BONNIE BETTS POKED HER HEAD INTO MY office where I was taking a fourth-grader’s temperature. “When you have a minute,” she said, then ducked back into the hallway.
I took the thermometer from the girl’s mouth. “Normal, sweetheart,” I said. “I think it’s allergies.”
She twisted her mouth into a grimace. “My nose don’t clear no matter how much I blow it,” she said.
“That can be pretty frustrating,” I said as I dropped the plastic sheath from the thermometer into the trash can. “Ask your mom to get some saltwater spray at the store. It’ll help.”
She stood up like she had a sack of potatoes on her shoulders and left my office.
I called Bonnie in. The elementary school where I worked shared a campus with the middle school, as well as the high school where Bonnie taught, but it was unusual to see her in my building in the middle of the day.
“How are you, Bonnie?” I asked. “You want to have a seat?” I motioned toward the small chair the fourth-grader had vacated.
Bonnie stood in the doorway. “No, I’m fine, thanks, but I thought you’d want to know that Mrs. Potter took Andy out of my class to talk with a police officer last period. He seemed just fine when he came back, but I thought you should know.”
“They talked to him without telling me?” I wasn’t sure if that was even legal.
Bonnie shrugged. “I didn’t think to question it.” She looked at her watch. “I’d better get back, but wanted to let you know.”
I thanked her, then sat at my desk, wondering if I should pull Andy out of his next class to find out what had happened. I’d really mess up his day then, but I’m sure he was already befuddled from talking to the police. Before I could decide, Flip Cates called on my cell phone.
“I just heard that one of your guys talked to Andy,” I said. I’d known Flip for years and knew he’d be straight with me.
“That was Sergeant Wood,” he said. I didn’t recognize the name. “We needed to ask him some more questions about the fire.”
“Shouldn’t I have been there?”
“It’s mandatory for a parent to be present when questioning a minor under fourteen,” Flip said. “Sergeant Wood told Andy he had a right to have a parent present, but he didn’t seem to have a problem with it.”
“He was probably confused, Flip!” I stood up and shut my office door. “Someone should have contacted me.”
“I think he did fine, Laurel,” Flip s
aid. “And I’m sorry to lay this on you right now, but we’d like to search Andy’s room. We’ll need you to sign a consent-to-search form, and we’d like to do it this afternoon. Can you take some time off work?”
“You want to search his room?” I thought I’d better sound shocked. Most likely Marcus had been out of line when he tipped me off.
“Yes. It won’t take long.”
I could say I wouldn’t sign. That consent-to-search form wasn’t the same as a warrant. But what would they find in Andy’s room that I hadn’t already found? The shoes, I thought. I should have simply thrown the shoes away. Stupid. Why didn’t I toss them? I’d just have to tell them about the lighter fluid.
“I can be there in about forty-five minutes,” I said. I’d let them search the room and clear his name, putting an end to the rumors. Then they could get on with the business of looking for the real criminal.
“Great,” Flip said. “We’ll meet you at your house at noon.”
Even though I arrived home at eleven forty-five, a police car was already parked at the end of the street by the water, and I waved at the two figures inside as I pulled into my driveway. I wondered if they were intentionally early because they thought I might try to go through Andy’s room before their arrival. Surely that would be a typical parent’s response.
I met them on the front porch. Flip smiled and shook my hand. “Laurel, this is Sergeant Wood,” he said.
“Ma’am.” Sergeant Wood nodded to me but didn’t offer his hand. He was prematurely gray with bright blue eyes, and he would have been handsome if he’d allowed anything approaching a smile to cross his lips. I didn’t like picturing Andy being questioned by him.
Flip handed me a clipboard and pen. “Here’s the consent-to-search form,” he said.
I looked at the form as if I were actually reading it, but the words ran together in front of my eyes. “You just need to look at Andy’s room, right?” I asked as I signed. “You don’t need to see the whole house?”
“Correct,” Flip answered. I thought I saw an apology in his eyes.
“It’s no problem.” I led them inside. “I know you have to follow up every lead and I want Andy’s name to be cleared.”
They followed me upstairs to Andy’s room. The sergeant carried a large canvas bag and I wondered if he planned to take items away with him. How would I explain that to Andy?
In the doorway to the bedroom, both men stopped and put on latex gloves.
“Can I stay while you look?” I asked.
“Yes, ma’am,” Flip said, as if forgetting how long we’d known each other.
I took a seat on the very corner of Andy’s bed, folding my damp hands in my lap, trying to stay out of the way as they started opening drawers and reading the cards on the corkboard wall. “When you spoke to Andy today, Sergeant Wood, did he say anything that made you want to search his room?” I asked.
“No, ma’am,” Flip answered for the sergeant. “We’d already planned to ask your consent.”
“What did you talk to him about?”
“You keep parental monitoring software on this computer, ma’am?” Sergeant Wood asked as if I hadn’t spoken.
“Yes, I do. He’s not much of an Internet surfer. He likes games, mostly.”
Sergeant Wood sat down in Andy’s desk chair and popped a CD into the writable drive. I thought of the nasty IM from MuzicRuuls and wondered what other hurtful messages he would come across.
While Sergeant Wood clicked mouse buttons and studied the computer screen, Flip started pulling out desk drawers. I knew what he was seeing in them and relaxed a bit. He asked me to stand up, then ran his arm beneath the mattress and box spring and peered under the bed.
“What exactly are you looking for?” I asked as I sat down again.
“We’re particularly looking for lighter fluid. Matches. Arson instructions he might have looked up on the Internet. That sort of thing,” Flip said. “I know this must be hard to watch.”
“Well, Andy’s not the kind of person who could or would set a fire, so I’m not concerned,” I said. “You know that, too, Flip,” I added, trying to remind him of our friendship.
He was into the messy drawer now, his back to me. I knew when he found the condom, because he asked me if Andy was sexually active.
“Not hardly,” I said with a laugh.
I heard the front door slam shut.
“Mom?” Maggie called, and I suddenly remembered today was a half day for the seniors.
“I’m up here,” I said.
“Why’s a police car here?” she called from the stairs. She nearly flew into the room. “What’s going on?”
“Hi, Maggie,” Flip said.
“Are you—” she looked from me to Flip to the sergeant “—are you searching Andy’s room?”
“Yes, they are,” I answered.
“Why?” Maggie looked at me. “Shouldn’t you…can they just do this?”
I nodded. “It’s only Andy’s room,” I reassured her in case she was afraid of her own privacy being invaded. “Not the whole house.”
“But it’s ridiculous!” she said.
“I know, sweetie.” I patted the bed next to me. “Sit down.”
“Is this because of what Keith said?” She directed the question to me and I shrugged.
“Probably.”
Sergeant Wood stood up from the computer, popped out the disk and dropped it in a small plastic bag he took from the canvas carryall. Then he pulled out a stack of paper bags. “We’d like to take the clothes Andy had on the night of the fire,” he said.
“Sure, but I’ve washed them.” I stood up, pulling open the louvered closet doors. “A couple of times, actually, to get rid of the smoke smell.”
“We’d still like to have them,” the sergeant said.
I reached into the closet for the green-striped shirt, but my hands, as if they had a mind of their own, moved to his solid sage-colored shirt instead.
“No, Mom,” Maggie said, “he had on—”
I looked at her sharply enough to cut her off. She understood.
“Oh, I forgot,” she said. “I thought he wore that other shirt, but he had that on during the day, didn’t he?”
I nodded, afraid she would say too much, embellish the lie to the point of it being obvious. I handed the shirt to the sergeant, who put it into one of the paper bags. Then I reached for his pants. Thank God, he had several pairs of tan pants. My hands passed over the ones he’d worn and handed some khaki ones to Maggie, who gave them to Sergeant Wood.
Flip looked up from the basket of cards he was filing through. “Don’t forget shoes and socks,” he said.
“I’m not sure which socks he wore,” I said. I leaned over to pick up the shoes, but Maggie beat me to it, pulling out a different pair of sneakers than the new ones he’d had on that night. She avoided my eyes as she handed them to the sergeant, who put each shoe in a separate paper bag. We were in it together now, Maggie and I. I cringed at the realization that I’d made her a party to tampering with evidence.
“We appreciate your cooperation,” Sergeant Wood said, as he added the last paper bag to his canvas carryall.
“Thanks, Laurel.” Flip took one last look around the room. “We’ll let ourselves out,” he said.
Maggie and I didn’t look at each other as the men went downstairs, even after we heard the front door close. We listened to the sound of their car doors slamming shut and the crunch of their tires on the gravelly end of the road where they’d parked. I wondered if Maggie felt as stiff with guilt as I did. I couldn’t believe I’d dragged her into my lie.
I put my arm around her shoulders. “I’m sorry,” I whispered.
“I would’ve done the same thing if I’d thought of it first,” she said.
“But why?” I asked her. “Why did we do it? If we’re one hundred percent sure of his innocence, why did we…why did we just tamper with evidence?”
She shook her head slowly. “To protect him. We d
on’t know what they’d find on the clothes he wore that night,” she said. “I mean, maybe he accidentally stepped in a puddle of gasoline or something and then they’d really go after him. This way, we know they won’t find a thing.”
My gaze drifted to the shoes he wore the night of the lock-in, and I thought I could still smell the scent of something caustic, something flammable, on them even from where I sat. I wouldn’t tell Maggie. I didn’t want to make her doubt him.
“I was afraid maybe his lighter leaked onto his shoes,” I said.
I let go of her to reach for Andy’s pillow, which lay on the side of the bed where Flip had tossed it after searching beneath the mattress. I hugged it to my chest. Andy’s scent was on it, still more the scent of a little boy than a man. Even if he could have figured out how to get fuel to the church and how to set it on fire in a way that would make him appear heroic, he never would have done it.
I knew my son. I knew his heart. He would never hurt a soul.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Laurel
1991
SARA’S BABY ARRIVED THREE WEEKS EARLY. She and Steve named him Keith, and he had a mild heart condition that might require surgery when he got a little older. I felt terrible for Sara. She deserved the perfect baby I’d had.
Sara and Keith spent two nights in the hospital in Jacksonville. The second night, Steve called to tell me that Jamie was in the emergency room. While visiting with them in Sara’s room, Jamie had suddenly doubled over with chest pains.