Lovely Girls(69)

“Yes, of course. Alex doesn’t have to agree to the interview. But, like I said, I think as long as we prepare her ahead of time, it’s better for her to cooperate. Once the police stop viewing Alex as a possible suspect, she can get on with her life. Get back to normal. And I’ll be there, so I can always stop the interview if I think it’s getting out of hand.”

I had no idea whether his advice was sound. It was entirely possible that Scott might even have competing priorities. If Alex were to be prosecuted, the case would almost certainly get a lot of media attention and would generate publicity for her attorney. But what if he was right? What if cooperating with the investigation was the most expedient way to clear Alex?

“I would feel better about this decision if I knew what Alex was actually going to say,” I told him. “So far she still hasn’t given a clear accounting of what she was doing that night.”

“That’s the main concern,” Scott conceded. “Why don’t I stop by this morning and talk to her? I’ll assess what she has to say and what, if anything, we should share with the police.”

“Okay,” I reluctantly agreed.



Scott sat with Alex in the kitchen, going over her movements on the night Callie died. Alex had come up with a few more details. She believed she might have been near the beach at one point, because she could smell the salt air, but she couldn’t tell for sure what time that was or which beach. It had been dark, and she’d been lost. She’d biked by a bar that had been playing loud country-and-western music. She’d passed a man out walking his dog. Alex couldn’t remember what the man looked like, but she thought the dog had been a black-and-white Australian shepherd. Mostly, she had biked aimlessly around. She had been trying to clear her head, she explained, trying to process everything that had happened. The bullying she’d endured, Coach being arrested. Even her father’s death.

“Should she bring up the bullying?” I asked. The police already knew about it, but I didn’t think it was a great idea to highlight it. It didn’t just give Alex a motive; it was practically a red arrow lit up and pointing at her.

“Yes,” Scott said. “Absolutely. It will give her a chance to tell our side of the story. How the other girls were the aggressors and Alex was the innocent victim.” Scott looked at Alex. “Just remember, the police are under no obligation to tell you the truth. They can, and will, lie about aspects of their investigation.”

“Why would they do that?” Alex asked.

“To frighten you. To get you to tell them things you otherwise wouldn’t say. Misinformation is an interrogation tool they use.”

Alex nodded and nervously played with the end of her long braid. “Anything else?”

“Whatever they do or say, you have to remember, the police are not your friends. They’re not there to help you, or protect you, or whatever else Sesame Street told you when you were a kid.”

“So, what? The police don’t care about the truth?” Alex asked.

Scott shook his head. “For our purposes, assume they’re there to make a case against you. And to put you in prison for the rest of your life. Our goal is to persuade them you had nothing to do with Callie Nord’s death. Got it? Good. Let’s go over the timeline again.”

I discovered that I had a low tolerance for listening to Alex repeat her story over and over until Scott was satisfied that the police wouldn’t be able to trip her up. I left them to it and went outside to water the flowers I was growing in terra-cotta pots on the patio, until Scott announced that it was time to go.





CHAPTER FORTY-ONE




* * *





KATE

We were shown into an interview room, where we waited for the detectives to join us. The air-conditioning was set low, and it was far too cold for the lightweight jersey I’d worn. The room was small and windowless and just large enough to contain a long table surrounded by industrial molded plastic chairs. I’d expected a one-way mirror on the wall, like they have in detective shows, but there wasn’t one. Then I noticed the red light of a camera mounted in the corner of the room. We were being watched electronically.

We sat there for a long time. Scott checked his emails and phone messages, but Alex and I didn’t have our phones, which made the wait seem even longer.

“What’s taking so long?” Alex muttered.

“It’s another interrogation technique,” Scott said. “They keep you waiting to make you nervous.”

“Are they going to give back my phone and tablet?” Alex asked. “The laptop they took isn’t even mine. It belongs to the school.”

“I don’t know,” I said. I was also hoping to get my electronics back. If they weren’t returned soon, I was going to have to buy backup phones for both of us and a computer for Alex to do her schoolwork on.

The door finally opened, and Detectives Monroe and Reddick entered. They were each holding a paper coffee cup.

“Can I get anyone anything to drink?” Detective Monroe asked cheerfully.

Scott had already advised against accepting beverages from the detectives. “They most likely have samples of your DNA from items they took from the house when they executed the search warrant. But just in case they didn’t, let’s not give them a chance to collect it off a disposable coffee cup,” he’d instructed us on the car ride over.