Secret Lucidity(76)
“I am telling you the truth.”
She nods and then continues, explaining, “I’m going to ask you some questions that may be uncomfortable, but again, I need you to answer them honestly, okay?”
“Okay.”
“Has David Andrews ever touched you in a sexual manner?”
“Are you accusing my daught—”
“Ma’am.” Detective Banks addresses my mom. “Again, we are just trying to collect information that will help us confirm or negate this allegation.”
“Well, I suggest, before we move forward, that you explain exactly what allegation has been made that concerns my daughter.” My mother’s patience finally snaps, and I warm a little at her protectiveness of me.
And finally, it’s disclosed what’s been said when Detective Banks reveals, “We are currently investigating a claim that was made that you and David Andrews have been engaging in a sexual relationship of some sort.”
“That’s insane!”
I sit silent, frozen in my seat.
“It may be,” Detective Banks tells my mother, “but we take these claims very seriously. And in no way has your daughter done anything wrong.” She then asks me and my mother if she can continue with her questioning, and when we both agree, she asks again, “Has David Andrews ever touched you in a sexual manner?”
“No.”
“Has David Andrews ever touched you in a way that made you feel uncomfortable?”
“No.”
“Has David Andrews ever kissed you?”
“No,” I state, standing firm as beads of sweat form at the nape of my neck.
“Have you ever had oral sex with David Andrews?”
“No.”
“Have you ever engaged in vaginal sex with David Andrews?” she presses, and I wish she would stop using his name the way she is, as if he’s some inanimate object instead of the warm loving man who has the biggest heart of anyone I know.
“No.”
“Have you ever engaged in anal sex with David Andrews?”
“This is ridiculous,” my mother murmurs under her breath.
“No.”
“And you’ve never texted with David Andrews in a sexual nature?”
“No.”
“Have you ever been to David Andrews’s home?”
My mouth goes dry, and every nerve ending in my body feels like it’s being plucked as I answer, “No.”
Detective Banks sets down her notepad and pen and leans forward, resting her arms on the table. “Cam, I can’t stress the importance of you telling the truth here.”
“I am telling you the truth. I’ve never done anything with Coach Andrews,” I argue.
“You’re not protecting him by lying.”
“I’m not lying.” My voice octaves up in defense, and I know the woman who is ripping my world apart right now can see right through me.
“We have a witness that says they saw the two of you kissing. We also have evidence that’s been collected that suggests what you are telling me isn’t the truth.”
Holy shit.
My blood runs cold, but I stick to my promise. “Again, I am not lying.”
Even my mother backs me up. “If she says she’s telling you the truth, I can assure you, she is.”
“Who was it that said they saw something?”
“I’m not at liberty to say,” she tells me. “But I can share this with you.” She then opens the file that’s been tucked under her notepad and pulls out a stack of papers that are clipped together. “These are text messages between you and David. Do these look familiar?”
Oh, God. How did they get these? David assured me that he deleted everything off of his phone when I last saw him. But here they are.
“These are not my texts,” I lie, but then fear cripples me the moment I see my cell phone number highlighted in yellow at the top of the page. “Where did you get these from?”
“I’ve obtained a search warrant that allowed me to pull the text history from David’s cell phone carrier.”
Panic crystalizes, and my gut churns in shock when I read a few of the texts that have been highlighted as well, texts that are so intimate they made me blush when we exchanged them. My mother leans in, reading words that were never meant to be shared with anyone. Then I go stone silent when the realization hits.
We’ve officially been caught.
How the hell am I supposed to lie my way out of this? Lie David’s way out of this?
“No more talking, Camellia,” my mother barks before snapping at the detective, “We’re done.”
She immediately pulls out her cell phone when she grabs my arm. “Come on. We’re leaving right now.”
The room spins in a hurricane of fright, and I can’t even focus on what the detective is saying as my mother pulls me out. All I hear is static in my head. I’m not even sure how I’m managing to walk right now when my heart is consumed with what’s going to happen to David.
How can I save him from this?
How can I spare him when I should be next to him, taking this fall with him? Because I’m to blame too.
Mom rushes me to the car, and as we drive home, she starts making calls, but I’m so far gone. I curl into myself and stare out the window, trying to deal with the fact that I am completely helpless. That there is nothing I can do to protect David. They already know. If they have dozens of pages of our texts, they probably have hundreds of pages of our call logs that show countless hours worth of conversations.