Later

65

The lady cop put an arm around my shoulders and led me outside. I started shivering. She probably thought it was from the night air but of course it wasn’t. She slipped off her jacket and put it over my shoulders, but that wasn’t good enough. I put my arms down the too-long sleeves and hugged it against me. It was heavy with cop-things in the pockets, but that was okay with me. The weight felt good.

There were three cruisers in the courtyard, two flanking Liz’s little car and one behind it. As we stood there, another car pulled in, this one an SUV with RENFIELD CHIEF OF POLICE on the side. I guessed it would be a holiday for drunks and speeders downtown, because most of the town’s force had to be right here.

Another cop came out the door and joined the lady cop. “What happened in there, kid?”

Before I could answer, the lady cop put a finger over my lips. I didn’t mind; it actually felt sort of good. “No questions, Dwight. This boy’s in shock. He needs medical attention.”

A burly man in a white shirt with a badge hung around his neck—the Chief, I assumed—had gotten out of the SUV and was in time to hear this last. “You take him, Caroline. Get him looked at. Are there confirmed dead?”

“There’s a body at the foot of the stairs. Looks like a woman. I can’t confirm she’s deceased, but from the way her head’s turned—”

“Oh, she’s dead, all right,” I told them, then started crying.

“Go on, Caro,” the Chief said. “Don’t bother going all the way to County, either. Take him to MedNow. No questions until I get there. Also until we’ve got an adult who’s responsible for him. Get his name?”

“Not yet,” Officer Caroline said. “It’s been crazy. There are no lights in there.”

The Chief bent toward me, hands on his upper thighs, making me feel like I was five again. “What’s your handle, son?”

So much for no questions, I thought. “Jamie Conklin, and it’s my mother who’s coming. Her name is Tia Conklin. I already called her.”

“Uh-huh.” He turned to Dwight. “Why are there no lights? All the houses on the way up here had power.”

“Don’t know, Chief.”

I said, “They went out when she was running down the stairs after me. I think it’s why she fell.”

I could see he wanted to ask me more, but he just told Officer Caroline to get rolling. As she eased her way out of the courtyard and started down the curving driveway, I felt in my pants pockets and found Liz’s phone, although I didn’t remember putting it there. “Can I call my mom again and tell her we’re going to the doc-in-the-box?”

“Sure.”

As I made the call, I realized that if Officer Caroline found out I was using Liz’s phone, I could be in trouble. She might well ask how come I knew the dead woman’s passcode, and I wouldn’t be able to give a good answer. In any case, she didn’t ask.

Mom said she was in an Uber (which would probably cost a small fortune, so it was good the agency was back on a profitable basis) and they were making excellent time. She asked if I was really all right. I told her I really was, and that Officer Caroline was taking me to MedNow in Renfield, but just to get checked out. She told me not to answer any questions until she got there, and I said I wouldn’t.

“I’m going to call Monty Grisham,” she said. “He doesn’t do this kind of legal work, but he’ll know someone who does.”

“I don’t need a lawyer, Mom.” Officer Caroline gave me a quick sideways glance when I said that. “I didn’t do anything.”

“If Liz murdered someone and you were there, you need one. There’ll be an inquest… press… I don’t know what-all. This is my fault. I brought that bitch into our house.” Then she spat: “Fucking Liz!”

“She was good at first.” This was true, but all at once I felt very, very tired. “I’ll see you when you get here.”

I ended the call and asked Officer Caroline how long it would take us to get to the doc-in-the-box. She said twenty minutes. I looked over my shoulder, through the mesh blocking off the back seat, suddenly sure that Liz would be there. Or—so much worse—Therriault. But it was empty.

“It’s just you and me, Jamie,” Officer Caroline said. “Don’t worry.”

“I’m not,” I said, but there was one thing I did have to worry about, and thank God I remembered, or me and Mom might have been in a heap of trouble. I put my head against the window and half-turned away from her. “Going to take a little nap.”

“You do that.” There was a smile in her voice.

I did take a little nap. But first I powered up Liz’s phone, hiding it with my body, and deleted the recording she’d made of me passing on the plot of The Secret of Roanoke to my mom. If they took the phone and found out it wasn’t mine, I’d make something up. Or just say I couldn’t remember, which would be safer. But they couldn’t hear that recording.

No way.