Locust Lane(24)
“Just so you know, we’re still recording,” Gates said.
The camera was tucked up in a corner of the ceiling, like a sleeping bat.
“So, Christopher, we’re going to read you something now that you’ve probably heard before on TV. But I still want you to pay attention and let us know if you have any questions.”
Procopio took a laminated card from the inner pocket of his sport coat and read the familiar words about attorneys and silence. When they were done Christopher numbly said he understood.
“So,” Gates continued. “You’ve asked for your father to be present for the interview but waived your right to an attorney. Is that correct?”
“Yes.”
“Maybe he should have a lawyer,” Michel said.
“Your call. But if you do get representation, that person will replace you. You can’t both be in here.”
“No, I want to be here.”
“So, just to be clear, no lawyer?”
“For now.”
She turned back to the boy.
“Christopher, why don’t you tell us about last night. In your own words. Take your time. Don’t leave anything out. We’ll decide what’s important.”
“We hung out at the house where she was staying…”
“Eden Perry.”
“Yeah, Eden.”
“We being?”
“There was me and Jack and Hannah.”
“Could you provide us with full names?”
“Jack Parrish and Hannah Holt.”
“So it was just the four of you.”
“Yeah.”
“What time did you get there?”
“Like, eight. Some other kids were supposed to come but they didn’t show. I got there first and then Jack Parrish and Hannah Holt got there…”
“You can just call them Jack and Hannah now,” Gates said.
“Okay. And then Jack and Hannah got there and we just, I don’t know, hung out. Listened to music and talked.”
“Did you drink? Smoke weed? Do any other kind of drug?”
Christopher cut his eyes in the direction of his father.
“Nobody was wasted or anything, if that’s what you mean.”
“See, I’m not sure if that’s a yes or a no.”
“No.”
“Okay. Go on.”
“So we hung out and then Jack and Hannah left.”
“What time was this?”
“Around midnight.”
“But you stuck around?”
He nodded.
“Why was that?”
“To be with Eden,” Christopher said after a moment’s hesitation.
“Was there something going on between the two of you? You in a relationship?”
“Not really. Sorta. I don’t know.”
“You’re going to have to explain that, Christopher.”
“You just never know with her. What she’s thinking about stuff.”
“How about you? What did you think about stuff?”
“I liked her.”
“Okay, go on,” Gates said, after it became clear Christopher wasn’t going to say more.
“So we hung for a while. And then I left.”
“Did you two make out? Have sex?”
“No.”
“What time did you finally leave?”
“I don’t know. Late.”
“And you went home?”
“Yes. I mean, I may have walked around for a while.”
“Why?”
He stared at the table.
“Christopher? Were you upset? Was something wrong?”
“No.”
“You sure?”
He nodded. Gates watched him for a moment. If she was frustrated by his evasiveness, she hid it well.
“So I’m a little confused here. How would you characterize your relationship with Eden?”
“I don’t know.”
“But you were into her,” Procopio said.
After a moment, Christopher nodded.
“But she wasn’t into you.”
“You just gotta know Eden.”
“Well, that’s not possible now,” Gates said, “so we’re going to have to rely on you for that.”
“She’s very … unpredictable.”
“In what way?”
“Just hard to pin down.”
“Not that hard, it seems,” Procopio muttered.
“So, Christopher,” Gates said. “We gotta talk about these scratches on your neck. How’d you get them?”
“I don’t know. I must have just done it to myself.”
“So Eden didn’t give them to you?”
“No,” Christopher said, his tone incredulous, as if it was the craziest thing he’d ever heard.
“You guys have a fight?”
“I said no!” he answered, raising his voice.
“Christopher,” Michel said.
Gates looked at him and shook her head.
“How long did you walk around?” Procopio asked.
“I don’t know. A while.”
“Five minutes? Two hours?”