Page 24 of Everyone Here Is Lying
“Where, exactly?”
“I don’t know, east—onto the rural roads. I had nothing to do.”
“What car did you drive?” the detective asks.
“I have my own car, it’s a 2015 Chevy Spark.”
“Anyone see you? Did you talk to anyone?” Bledsoe asks.
Ryan swallows. “I don’t think so. I didn’t talk to anybody. I don’t know if anyone saw me.”
“Why don’t you go get dressed,” Bledsoe says. “We’d like to bring you down to the station for further questioning, if that’s all right with you.”
Nora looks on in shock, unable to grasp what is happening. All she knows is fear.
Seventeen
Ryan is petrified. His mouth is dry, and he can feel himself trembling. He had hastily thrown on a pair of jeans and a clean T-shirt and his jacket and been brought down to the station. It’s the middle of the night, and the houses on the street were dark; no one was watching, at least. He went voluntarily—he wasn’t cuffed or anything. His mother is here, somewhere in the station, but they wouldn’t let her in the interview room with him, no matter how much she insisted, because he’s not a minor anymore. They wouldn’t even let her in the detectives’ car with him. She’d had to follow in her own car. She’d demanded to know why they wanted to question him, but they wouldn’t say anything. Now she’s out there somewhere, and he’s in here, shaking and afraid.
The two detectives sit down across from him. They’ve read him his rights. It all feels completely surreal, like a bad dream. They start the videotape. His right leg begins to bounce up and downinvoluntarily. He’s afraid he might piss himself. Somehow he manages to say, “Am I under arrest?”
Detective Bledsoe answers him. “No. But we thought we should read you your rights before we question you, given the circumstances.”
“What circumstances?” He’s trying to keep the panic out of his voice.
“We have a witness who saw Avery Wooler getting into your car, at around four thirty Tuesday afternoon.”
Ryan feels like he might pass out. He says, “I want a lawyer.”
They have to turn off the tape.
•••
Alone in the waiting room,Nora struggles to keep it together. This can’t be happening. She wishes Al were here, but someone had to remain at home with Faith. She tells herself it’s all a mistake, that it’s better to cooperate and do what the detectives ask and get it over with. And the detectives had been pleasant enough, insisting that they just wanted to talk to Ryan, ask him a few more questions. She thought they’d be done in under an hour, and they could go home.
Once they’d arrived at the station, however, things had seemed to take a darker turn. They wouldn’t let her be with him. That frightened her. She doesn’t know what’s going on in that room. Her son is an adult now, in the eyes of the law, but to her, he’s still just a child. Her child. Even after all that had happened last year. But he’d been a minor then, and it had been different.
They’ve been in there more than half an hour already. She hears rapid footsteps coming down the hall in her direction and looksup. At first, she doesn’t recognize him, because she’s never seen him in anything but a business suit. But it’s Oliver Fuller, criminal attorney, called out in the middle of the night, dressed in jeans and sneakers and a denim shirt, and carrying that familiar briefcase. He spots her in her chair and walks over to her.
“What’s this about, Nora?” he asks.
“There’s been some kind of mistake,” Nora says. “I think they’re asking him about that missing girl.”
The attorney looks grim. He turns away, walks down the hall, and knocks on the door of interview room 2. The door opens and he disappears inside. Nora feels her world collapsing. She can hardly breathe. She pulls her cell phone out and calls Al to tell him that Oliver Fuller has arrived.
•••
It’s after two o’clockin the morning, and Gully could use a coffee. At least the attorney has now arrived. There are introductions all around. “I need a moment with my client,” Fuller says, and Gully and Bledsoe leave the room.
They turn to the lunchroom for coffee, avoiding Ryan Blanchard’s mother, sitting anxiously in the waiting area. Gully can’t help feeling sorry for her. She seems like a nice enough woman, a caring parent. Gully hopes for her sake that her son isn’t a kidnapper and possibly a murderer. But there’s another woman out there whose daughter is missing, and her life has been horribly upended. Gully has to consider her too.
“What do you think of him?” Bledsoe asks her.
She shrugs. “I don’t know yet.”
“He was awfully quick to call a lawyer.”
“You can’t blame him for that,” Gully says, although she’d noted it too. She’s bothered by the fact that they don’t know who this witness is. If Ryan Blanchard doesn’t give them anything, they’ll have to let him go.
