Page 83 of Goodbye Days

She rubs her chin and squints. “Hmmm. Usually bullshit colored.”

I don’t recognize the number on my phone. “Hello?”

“Carver Briggs?” The voice on the other end is brusque. Not the sort to deliver the news that you’ve been randomly selected to swim with baby dolphins while someone yells compliments at you through a bullhorn. It sounds like a black leather gun holster looks.

“Speaking,” I say over the blaring klaxons in my head.

“This is Lieutenant Dan Farmer of the Metro Nashville PD. We wanted to speak with you about the car accident on August first involving Thurgood Edwards, Eli Bauer, and Blake Lloyd. We understand you were friends with them. When could you and your parents come down to the station and speak with us?”

I will my voice to stop shaking but fail miserably. “I—Actually, I’d better talk to my lawyer first.”

“You’re not under arrest for anything. We just want to have a conversation.” He sounds palpably annoyed.

“My lawyer said I shouldn’t talk to any police without him there. My lawyer’s Jim Krantz.”

Lieutenant Farmer’s annoyance becomes full-blown exasperation—he’s as terrible at hiding it as I am at hiding my nerves. “All right. You got my number on your phone?”

“Yes.”

“Call your lawyer and let me know.”

“Okay.”

Lieutenant Farmer hangs up without saying goodbye.

I tell my parents. Then we call Mr. Krantz.

This is happening.

There’s a dim, remote corner of me that actually welcomes it.

The next day, after the longest day of school in my life, we’re all seated around Mr. Krantz’s conference table. My parents are on my left. There’s an empty chair on my right for Mr. Krantz. A video camera sits on a tripod in a corner. Nobody says anything.

I hear voices; niceties being exchanged out front. The receptionist leads in two men wearing khaki slacks and sport coats. They have guns and badges on their belts. A young woman in a well-tailored suit and with an equally well-tailored professional air follows.

The older of the two men introduces himself. “Carver? Lieutenant Dan Farmer. Thanks for coming.”

Oh, you’re welcome! Couldn’t be more excited to be here!

The younger man introduces himself. “Sergeant Troy Metcalf.”

The woman steps forward. “Carver, I’m Alyssa Curtis. I’m an assistant district attorney for Davidson County.”

“The whole team showed up,” my dad says. He tries to play it casually, like we’re people who have nothing to worry about, despite the contemptful edge in his voice (my dad’s accent is a good fit for contempt). There’s awkward laughter. Not from our side of the table. My stomach is full of wasps.

They take seats across from me. I stare at my sweating hands. Nobody talks. Finally, Mr. Krantz bustles in, his glasses on the end of his nose, holding a legal pad. Neither of the officers nor Ms. Curtis looks especially happy to see Mr. Krantz. But they all shake hands.

“All right,” Mr. Krantz says, sitting with a grunt and looking at his watch. “I’m busy; my client’s busy; y’all are busy—or at least you ought to be. So let’s get this show on the road.”

“Fair enough,” Lieutenant Farmer says, clicking his pen. “Carver, we’re here investigating the accident that took the lives of Thurgood Edwards, Elias Bauer, and Blake Lloyd on August first of this year. Why don’t you tell us everything you know about the circumstances surrounding this accident?”

I swallow hard. As I’m about to speak, Mr. Krantz intervenes. He whips off his glasses and plops them on top of his legal pad. “No, no, no. You have a specific question? You ask. I’m not having my client telling you free-form campfire stories.”

Lieutenant Farmer winces and squirms in his chair. “Carver, were you aware at the time of the accident that the three deceased were traveling in a vehicle?”

I start to answer, but Mr. Krantz cuts me off. “My client exercises his rights under the Fifth Amendment to the United States Constitution and Article One, Section Nine, of the Tennessee Constitution and declines to answer.”

Lieutenant Farmer takes a here-we-go breath through his nose. “Did you text Thurgood Edwards immediately preceding the accident?”