One of Us is Lying(21)

(Talk honestly, no one else hears you, and I stay

?only a minute longer.)

Do I contradict myself?

Very well then I contradict myself,

(I am large, I contain multitudes.) …

Will you speak before I am gone? will you prove

?already too late? …

I depart as air, I shake my white locks at the

?runaway sun,

I effuse my flesh in eddies, and drift it in lacy jags.

I bequeath myself to the dirt to grow from the

?grass I love,

If you want me again look for me under

?your boot-soles.

You will hardly know who I am or what I mean,

But I shall be good health to you nevertheless,

And filter and fiber your blood.

Failing to fetch me at first keep encouraged,

Missing me one place search another,

I stop somewhere waiting for you.



“Song of Myself,” Officer Lopez murmurs when the girl finishes. “Interesting choice.”

There’s music, more readings, and it’s finally over. The priest tells us the burial’s going to be private, family only. Fine by me. I’ve never wanted to leave anyplace so bad in my life and I’m ready to take off before the funeral procession comes down the aisle, but Officer Lopez has her hand on my arm again.

A bunch of senior guys carry Simon’s casket out the door. A couple dozen people dressed in dark colors file out after them, ending with a man and a woman holding hands. The woman has a thin, angular face like Simon. She’s staring at the floor, but as she passes our pew she looks up, catches my eye, and chokes out a furious sob.

More people crowd the aisles, and someone edges into the pew with Officer Lopez and me. It’s one of the plainclothes cops, an older guy with a buzz cut. I can tell right away he’s not bush-league like Officer Budapest. He smiles like we’ve met before.

“Nate Macauley?” he asks. “You got a few minutes, son?”





Chapter Seven


Addy


Sunday, September 30, 2:05 p.m.


I shade my eyes against the sun outside the church, scanning the crowd until I spot Jake. He and the other pallbearers put Simon’s casket onto some kind of metal stretcher, then step aside as the funeral directors angle it toward the hearse. I look down, not wanting to watch Simon’s body get loaded into the back of a car like an oversized suitcase, and somebody taps me on the shoulder.

“Addy Prentiss?” An older woman dressed in a boxy blue suit gives me a polite, professional smile. “I’m Detective Laura Wheeler with the Bayview Police. I want to follow up on the discussion you had last week with Officer Budapest about Simon Kelleher’s death. Could you come to the station with me for a few minutes?”

I stare at her and lick my lips. I want to ask why, but she’s so calm and assured, like it’s the most natural thing in the world to pull me aside after a funeral, that it seems rude to question her. Jake comes up beside me then, handsome in his suit, and gives Detective Wheeler a friendly, curious smile. My eyes dart between them and I stammer, “Isn’t it—I mean—can’t we talk here?”

Detective Wheeler winces. “So crowded, don’t you think? And we’re right around the corner.” She gives Jake a half smile. “Detective Laura Wheeler, Bayview Police. I’m looking to borrow Addy for a little while and get clarification on a few points related to Simon Kelleher’s death.”

“Sure,” he says, like that settles things. “Text me if you need a ride after, Ads. Luis and I will stick around downtown. We’re starving and we gotta talk offensive strategy for next Saturday’s game. Going to Glenn’s, probably.”

So that’s it, I guess. I follow Detective Wheeler down the cobblestone path behind the church that leads to the sidewalk, even though I don’t want to. Maybe this is what Ashton means when she says I don’t think for myself. It’s three blocks to the police station, and we walk in silence past a hardware store, the post office, and an ice cream parlor where a little girl out front is having a meltdown about getting chocolate sprinkles instead of rainbow. I keep thinking I should tell Detective Wheeler that my mother will worry if I don’t come straight home, but I’m not sure I could say it without laughing.

We pass through metal detectors in the front of the police station and Detective Wheeler leads me straight to the back and into a small, overheated room. I’ve never been inside a police station before, and I thought it would be more … I don’t know. Official-looking. It reminds me of the conference room in Principal Gupta’s office, with worse lighting. The flickering fluorescent tube above us deepens every line on Detective Wheeler’s face and turns her skin an unattractive yellow. I wonder what it does to mine.

She offers me a drink, and when I decline she leaves the room for a few minutes, returning with a messenger bag slung over one shoulder and a small, dark-haired woman trailing behind her. Both of them sit across from me at the squat metal table, and Detective Wheeler lowers her bag onto the floor. “Addy, this is Lorna Shaloub, a family liaison for the Bayview School District. She’s here as an interested adult on your behalf. Now, this is not a custodial interrogation. You don’t have to answer my questions and you are free to leave at any time. Do you understand?”

Not really. She lost me at “interested adult.” But I say “Sure,” even though I wish more than ever I’d just gone home. Or that Jake had come with me.