Aftermath(69)

“Okay, but I need her to —”

“I have to search you. Please turn around and put your hands against the wall.”

Jesse glances at his mother.

“Go ahead,” she says, her voice brittle. “They have a warrant. And since I’m quite certain the grounds for it are baseless” – she shoots a glare at the officer – “it’s best to just comply and get it over with.”

“Mom, Skye’s —”

“Son…” The officer puts a hand on Jesse’s shoulder, and Jesse tenses, as if to throw it off, but I give him a look and shake my head. My arm is fine for now.

The officer searches Jesse. He takes his phone, pats him down and finds nothing. Then he tells Jesse to go upstairs with another officer and remove his clothing, which will be taken for further examination.

When his mother protests, Jesse says, “It’s fine, Mom. I haven’t done anything.”

“I know. I just —” Another glare for the officer. Then to Jesse, “Go on. Skye and I will be right down here.”

They’re heading to the stairs, and I’m about to tell Dr. Mandal about my arm when an officer from the upper level says he’s found something. The officer prods Jesse up the stairs, and Dr. Mandal follows. I go after her. On the stairs, I whisper, “Whatever it is, someone planted it.”

“That’s what I’m worried about,” she says grimly.

When we get upstairs, I see Jesse’s dad arguing with the officers searching Jesse’s room.

“It’s a penknife,” Mr. Mandal is saying. “He’s a sixteen-year-old boy, and he had it in his dresser drawer.”

“Take it,” Jesse says. “It’s too small to hurt anyone, but go ahead and analyze it.”

“We aren’t looking for evidence that you’ve hurt someone,” the officer who brought him upstairs says. “We’re looking for evidence that you plan to. And with something much more lethal than that knife.” He turns to another officer. “Bag it and have it analyzed for chemicals.”

“Chemicals?” Jesse turns to his parents. “What’s this about?”

“They received a so-called credible tip that you have bomb-making material in your room.”

Jesse gives a choked laugh. “Bomb-making material?”

“I bet it’s those idiots,” I say. “The seniors who attacked you Saturday. This is their revenge.” I look at the officers. “We can provide names. They were giving Jesse – Jasser – a hard time, talking crap about the North Hampton shooting.”

“North Hampton…” One of the younger officers straightens from where he’s been searching under Jesse’s bed. He looks at Jesse’s parents. “Mandal. You’re…”

“Yes,” one of the older officers says. “And while we offer our deepest condolences for that, it has no bearing on what we’re investigating here.”

“It might not be those guys,” Jesse says. “There’s something else. The reason we thought you were here. Skye and I —”

“Son? I really need you to take off your clothing. Now.”

“But we have to report —”

“Clothing, off. Miss? I think it’s time for you to go home. You’ll need to provide your name, in case we have cause to question you.”

“It’s Gilchrist,” I say. “Skye Gilchrist. I’m Luka Gilchrist’s sister.”

That gets their attention, as I hoped it would. But it doesn’t mean they’re going to let me explain about Tiffany. They just want me to go downstairs and stay there.

Before we leave, Jesse taps his upper arm. I mouth “I will,” and follow Dr. Mandal down the stairs.

We’re in the kitchen, and I say, “Jasser and I ran into a problem tonight. When we saw the police were here, we thought that’s what it was for.”

“Skye…?” she interrupts, and I follow her gaze to my arm, where blood has seeped through Jesse’s hoodie.

“Yes,” I say. “That’s part of the problem, but the more important part —”

“Get that sweater off. Now. I’ll decide which part is more important.”

I try telling her about Tiffany as I pull off the hoodie. I get as far as explaining who Tiffany is and that she’d been trying to help and she’d contacted us and…

And that’s when Dr. Mandal unwraps the bandages, and once she sees my arm… Well, she’s not listening to anything I have to say after that.

I’ve been trying to pretend it’s just a little cut on my arm. It’s not. It’s a deep slice through muscle, and it needs attention – immediately. She wants to take me to the hospital, but by then, Jesse’s downstairs, and he brings a bigger first-aid kit, which contains suture tape.

We convince Dr. Mandal to fix me up here. The longer we wait to explain about Tiffany, the worse this is going to get. We try telling her again, but it’s pointless. His mother is focused on my arm and keeps telling us to wait, just wait. The police are upstairs, and it’s clear they aren’t interested in listening either.

Finally, Dr. Mandal starts working on my arm, and we resume explaining. She’s halfway done when we reach the part about Tiffany’s phone. That stops her.