Keep Quiet(20)

Think fast. “No, he didn’t have the burger. He only had ice cream.” Jake had to prevent her from calling Sal, who would tell her that he and Ryan hadn’t even been in last night.

“But you said he had a burger.” Pam frowned, more deeply. “I remember because I was surprised. He’d been saying he wants to eat less meat.”

“He ordered the burger, and I ordered a sundae, but when the food came, he thought mine looked better and we ended up switching.” Jake knew this was believable because everybody coveted his ice-cream sundaes, but he was the only one who ever ordered them.

“Oh, okay. Then it wasn’t the meat. Good.” Pam cocked her head. “Hmmm. It could’ve been that cheesy crap with the nachos, at the movie.”

“Right.” Jake wanted to talk with Ryan alone, which would be a problem now that Pam wasn’t going to the gym. But he knew how to make that happen. “Meanwhile, I didn’t get any breakfast. I didn’t even get my coffee yet.”

“I can fix you some eggs, if you want.”

“I’d love that, thanks. I’ll change and stop in and see him.” Jake went to the stairwell.

“Okay, I’ll call you when they’re ready.” Pam went to the kitchen with Moose following her, his toenails clicking on the hardwood. Jake hustled upstairs, knocked on Ryan’s door, then slipped inside his room.

“Dad!” Ryan looked pale and drawn, and there were dark circles under his eyes. His hair was a rumpled mess, and he was sitting up in bed in his sweats. His laptop, notebooks, and an open textbook lay scattered around him. “Did you hear? It was Kathleen Lindstrom. She’s in my class. She goes to my school.”

“I know.” Jake hurried over, scooped Ryan up, and hugged him close. He could feel his son slump against his chest, as if there were no strength at all in his young, athletic body.

“She’s my age.” Ryan’s voice sounded hoarse, about to give way to tears. “I didn’t know her, but a lot of my friends did.”

“I know, I know.” Jake held him closer, rocking him a little, reflexively. For a second, he didn’t know who was comforting whom, because they both felt so guilty and heartsick, bound by remorse.

“Janine Mae, that girl, the one I was going to go out with tonight, they were best friends. They both ran track. Dad, she even has MacCabe for homeroom. Remember Mrs. MacCabe?”

“Yes, of course, I’m so sorry.”

“God, it’s so horrible.” Ryan pulled away, his face a tormented mask and his weary eyes glistening. He yanked his laptop over, his movements suddenly frantic. “Look, you should see on her Facebook page, they already made it a memorial and everybody’s posting how they’re so sorry and how could somebody do such a thing, to leave her to die in the street, and she was so nice, she had to work after school—”

“Oh, this is just awful.” Jake glanced at the memorial Facebook page, which showed a photo of a grinning Kathleen Lindstrom, but he didn’t have the heart to read the posts. He realized he’d have to set aside his own anguish to help his son, and be strong for him.

“I told Mom I was sick, but it’s just that I feel so terrible, and you should see, everybody’s posting about it, how sad it is, and it made me throw up, and the only reason I stopped was there was nothing left. Dad, I already got a text from Janine Mae saying she’s so upset, and like, she was so cute, everyone on the boys team wanted to take her out.” Ryan’s words sped up, and he started scrolling through Facebook, tapping the trackpad. “Look, Dad, I think her mom and dad are divorced, and look at this, the track coach said on our Facebook page that nobody’s allowed to run on Pike Road anymore. Caleb says on his page the school is going to stop all the teams from running there—”

“Ryan, please, I know how you feel, but maybe you shouldn’t look at the computer anymore.” Jake kept his hand on Ryan’s shoulder. “It’s making it worse—”

“But I killed Kathleen, I killed her—”

“Lower your voice, please.” Jake glanced toward the door, though Pam couldn’t hear from the kitchen. “Son, I’m worried about you—”

“Dad”—Ryan interrupted, tapping the trackpad in an agitated way—“they’re all talking and texting and posting about her, and how could this horrible person kill her and leave her, and they all mean me, but they don’t even know—”

“Ryan, we did it, we’re both responsible, but you need to try and not get too focused on this.” Jake tried to calm him down, but he could see that Ryan was hardly listening.

“Dad, no, you know what, I was thinking, if we tell them how it happened, we could explain that I wasn’t high at the time—”

“Tell who?”

“The police.”

“No, we couldn’t,” Jake said firmly. “If they test you and find out you smoked, you would be guilty of a DUI and vehicular homicide. If you got tried as an adult, which is distinctly possible, that could be a ten-year prison term. We can’t go to the police. Don’t even think about that. I know we did the wrong thing—”

“No, it was all my fault. I hit her—”

“Ryan, we can’t keep going over and over this, around and around in circles.” Jake had to tell him about the car accident at the Wawa, because it would look strange to Pam if he didn’t. “Listen, I just had a fender bender that will cover the damage in the car.”