No One Knows Us Here(87)

“I already did confess—hours ago.”

“You have my undivided attention—oh, wait.” He flipped around his notebook, searching for a blank page. “Can you state your name for the record?”

“Rosemary Rabourne.”

“No middle name?”

“No.”

“All right. Go for it.”

“Leo Glass. I—I killed him.” I tossed my hands up in the air, as if to say, That’s about it. The confession had, in the hours that had ticked by, lost its power.

The detective didn’t write anything down on his notepad. He stared at me, and I stared back. “Leo Glass,” he said, breaking what must have been a five-minute silence. “Walk me through it.”

“Walk you through what?”

“You killed him, didn’t you? Tell me how it happened.”

“What do you want to know?”

“Start from the beginning.”

“The beginning of the day or—”

He waved his hand. “Before that. How’d you meet the guy.”

I sighed. “Listen, I don’t see how that’s relevant.”

Raised eyebrows. “Not relevant? Your relationship to the victim is irrelevant to the crime?” He made a fake I’m confused face.

“I’m saying I did it! I killed Leo Glass—I’m admitting it.” I held both of my hands out in front of me, locked at the wrists. “Handcuff me. Read me my rights. I don’t want to tell you the whole story. I don’t want to go to trial. I want you to lock me up in a jail cell and leave me alone.”

“That’s not exactly how things work around here.”

I laid my head down on the table. I was so tired. If I closed my eyes, I could fall asleep in an instant. I just wanted it to be over. I lifted my eyes up to Officer Sanders without moving my head. “Please, just arrest me.”

For the first time, the officer dropped his jovial affect. I saw the switch happen right before my eyes. His face went from fake-confused to blank and then—soft. “All right.”

At that moment, the door opened, and a woman walked in. She looked out of place, as if she’d accidentally stumbled in here on her way to the restroom. An officer held the door open for her. He nodded to Sanders and then pulled the door back closed.

She was young—about thirty, I guessed. “Priya Chandra,” she said to me, extending her hand for me to shake. “I’ll be representing you.” She seemed to be out of breath.

She didn’t look like a lawyer. Her long black hair was messy. She hadn’t brushed it this morning or maybe even this week. The ends were dyed chartreuse. The whole bottom three inches of her hair, that bright neon green of a traffic safety vest. What kind of lawyer dyed the ends of her hair neon green? Her clothes, too, struck me as very unlawyerly. A black skirt over thick black tights, a vintage Iron Maiden T-shirt, and a thick cable-knit cardigan a few sizes too big. It was a strange color that clashed with her hair, a fusion of lavender and pink.

She straightened up and cleared her throat, slowly gaining her footing. She turned to Officer Sanders and asked in a firm, commanding voice, “Is my client under arrest?”

Sanders looked surprised, too. His eyebrows were pasted halfway up his forehead. “Nooo,” he said slowly, “but not for lack of trying.”

“Then I’m taking her out of here,” she said. “Rosemary, don’t say a thing.”

“I’ve already confessed.”

“Not one more word.”

I gave the officer a pleading look. “Please, just do it now.”

Officer Sanders stood up and frowned down at me. He gave me a strange look. He felt sorry for me, I guessed. Me with my black-and-blue face, the tragic vintage ski clothes I had put on in the cabin. “Rosemary Rabourne,” he said. “I’m placing you under arrest for the murder of Leo Glass.”





CHAPTER 30


The next few minutes were a jumble of confusion, with everyone talking over everyone else. The officer was reading me my rights. The lawyer was echoing everything the officer said: “You have the right to remain silent, Rosemary! You have the right to consult with an attorney!” I was saying, “I don’t want a lawyer, I did it. I confessed!”

I don’t know how she ended up getting her way, but she did. Officer Sanders left me alone with her in the room. She sat across from me, the stainless steel table between us. I was under arrest, but nothing felt any different. He hadn’t even handcuffed me. I crossed my arms over my chest and frowned at this woman with the weird hair. She was ruining everything.

“Listen, I didn’t have to come here today,” she said, as if she could read my thoughts. “I’m trying to help you.”

“I can take care of myself.”

“Obviously you can’t.”

I narrowed my eyes at her, her tousled hair, her horrible granny sweater. “Are you a public defender or something?” It seemed like a public defender would at least be in a suit. A cheap suit, but a suit.

“No. I’m here as a favor. Don’t do anything stupid.” She pulled back her sweater sleeve, looked at her watch, and sighed heavily.

“A favor? Who would be doing me a favor? No one even knows I’m here.”