Page 13 of Everyone Here Is Lying
She shakes her head. “If he says he was out for a drive, then he was.” But her thoughts are reeling, her stomach clenching.
“That’s a long drive,” Bledsoe says.
She says, “He really likes his new car.”
“How would you describe your relationship with your husband?” Bledsoe asks.
“It’s fine.” He continues to stare at her, and it annoys her; it’s as if he’s implying something. She’s not going to share the intimatedetails of her marriage with them. It’s none of their business. “I mean, we have ups and downs like any couple, but we’re solid.”
“And how is your husband with the children?”
“He’s an excellent father,” she insists.
“Does he ever lose his patience?” Bledsoe asks.
Erin glances at Gully. Why doesn’t he let her ask any questions? She finds Bledsoe aggressive, unnerving. She answers carefully; she doesn’t like how this is going. “Sometimes. As do I. Any parent does. Do you have any children, Detective?” She’s panicking now. What has William said? What has he admitted to? Why didn’t they anticipate this and talk before they came in here, when they were in their hotel room? And Michael, they are going to question him. What a terrible position to put a child in—tell the police the truth or protect your parents.She feels the room begin to spin.
He ignores her question. “Your husband says he wasn’t home yesterday afternoon.”
“Of course he wasn’t,” she answers.
“If he was, we’ll find out.”
“It wasn’t him, it was someone else,” she insists, the hysteria coming out in her voice. “Someone must have come to the door, and she let them in. Someone took her. You have to find her!” She turns her panic-stricken gaze to Gully, who is regarding her with sympathy.
•••
Michael bites his nailsas he sits in the waiting room alone. It’s a habit that he kicked recently, but it started again last night with a vengeance. He doesn’t care; his world is falling apart. Maybe his last happy moment in his whole life, he thinks, is when the coach praised him at basketball practice yesterday.
He’s afraid for his sister. He knows she’s a pain and makes them all upset sometimes, that she makes her parents fight. She’s been like that for as long as he can remember. He remembers clearly the first time his dad hit her. She was six years old, throwing a tantrum because she didn’t get the cup she wanted for supper. His mom got up from the table to take it out of the dishwasher and wash it for her, to placate her. His father was incensed.Erin, sit down. Stop jumping up to do everything she says. You’re spoiling her.And Avery turning to him and yelling,I HATE YOU, and shoving the table so hard that everything spilled. He slapped her face, and everything went quiet. But the quiet didn’t last long because then his parents launched into a massive argument. Michael had cried, but Avery had seemed, even then, to enjoy the chaos she caused.
But now, Michael can’t stand the thought that she’s out there somewhere by herself. She’s been out all night. She must be scared, maybe hurt. He feels a sense of dread that he cannot shake.Why can’t they find her?
It’s his fault. If he hadn’t sent her home that one time, if he hadn’t told her about the key, she probably would have waited for him yesterday. They’d both be going to school today, having a regular day. But instead, his family is in shock and he’s sitting in the police station while the detectives question his parents. They’re going to question him. He feels sick at the thought. What more do they want from him? He already told them what happened. He’s sorry. He wishes he could do it over again, differently. But he can’t, and now his little sister is missing.
He hears a door open down the hall, and soon the female detective appears in front of him. They’ve finished with his mom. It’shis turn. He feels a paralyzing dread, like when he had to do a speech last year at a school assembly. But this is so much worse.
Gully says to him, “Michael, we’re ready for you now. Come with me, we’ll join your mother.” Her voice is kind, and she’s smiling at him.
He follows her into the small room and sees his mother seated at a table across from Detective Bledsoe. She stands up and he goes to her. She puts her arms around him and kisses him on top of his head. Lately, he’d been telling her not to do that, he’s not a little kid anymore, but now he wants all the comfort she can give him.
“Have a seat,” Bledsoe tells him. Michael sits down beside his mother. “This won’t take long, son, so just relax.”
Michael nods silently. He wants to please them.
“When you got home after school yesterday, after basketball practice,” Bledsoe says, “was your father at the house?”
Michael is startled. He feels his mother stiffen beside him, as if she’s afraid of what his answer might be. He glances up at her, but she’s looking straight ahead of her, at the detectives.
“It’s okay,” Bledsoe says soothingly, “if you change your story now. We just want the truth. Can you do that? Can you tell us the truth, Michael?”
His mother is rigid beside him, but she doesn’t say anything. He swallows nervously. “No. He wasn’t there. Why are you asking me this?” His voice comes out a little shrill.
“Do you know if he’d been there, earlier, before you got home?”
Michael shakes his head in dismay. They’re accusing his father. They think he did something to Avery. The world tilts. “No,” he says. “He wasn’t there, I swear. There was no one there. The house was empty.”
“Okay,” Bledsoe says. He waits a beat and then asks, “Did you change anything in the house, Michael? Tidy up, perhaps?”
