Page 164 of Pride High 3: Yellow

“I need to speak with them. Could you let them know I’m here?”

Ricky nodded before slamming the door shut. He just as quickly opened it again. “Umm…” He stood aside. “Come in.”

“Thank you,” the detective said as he entered. “You must be Ricky. Am I right?”

“Yes, sir,” he said with another nod. “Be right back.”

His heart was racing as he sought out his parents, even though this visit wasn’t completely unexpected. Diego wouldn’t let Ricky implicate himself, but it was only natural after his disappearance that the police would expect him to know where his boyfriend had gone. He trailed behind his parents as they went to the entryway, and after another introduction and assurances from the detective that he only wanted to ask a few questions, they all sat together in the living room.

“I’m afraid we received some troubling footage last night,” Detective Truman said after describing what had happened to Graham’s house. “A video was shared with us of someone named Diego Gomez, who took credit for the crime. And your son was in it.”

“I was?” Ricky asked in surprise.

“You sure were, bud,” Detective Truman said sympathetically. “Your friend was supposed to edit that part out, huh? And he tried, but we made him show us the raw footage. I’m a bit of a tech fanatic in my spare time. You’d be surprised just how often that comes in handy while on the job.”

“Just a moment,” his mother said. “Are you saying there is a video of my son setting a house on fire?”

“Nothing quite so damning,” the detective assured her. “But the video does provide a confession, along with motivation.” He turned to Ricky. “Would you like to tell her what you said?”

He swallowed. “That I helped.”

Detective Truman leaned forward. “How exactly? Tell us what happened that night.”

Diego wanted Ricky to deny any involvement. He had insisted. But it was too late now. “We went to Graham’s house because he’s been really terrible to me and my friends. He keeps picking on us, shoving us, and having other people do mean things.”

“Okay,” Detective Truman said. “So you were upset at him. Then what?”

“We toilet-papered his house.” The adults were silent, like they were waiting for him to say more, but he didn’t want to.

“Simple as that?” Detective Truman said. “Nothing else happened?”

Ricky shrugged.

“What about the fire?” the detective pressed. “Who started that?”

“I don’t know.”

“You don’t know? Your friend took credit for it in the video. And you were standing right next to him.”

“I mean that I didn’t see anything. When I got back in the car, there wasn’t a fire.”

“Even so, I’ve been to the Fowlers’ house at night. Their yard is dark. I imagine a big fire like that would attract my attention, no matter where on the street I was parked. Where was Mr. Gomez at the time?”

Ricky held his tongue.

His mother wasn’t pleased. “This isn’t the right time to stay loyal to your friends,” Ami said.

“He’s not just my friend,” Ricky shot back.

“I understand loyalty,” Detective Truman said, using an index finger to smooth down his mustache, “but here’s my concern: Mr. Gomez said, on tape, that Graham was lucky he didn’t burn down the whole house. Are you scared Diego will do the same thing to your family if you tell the truth?”

“No!” Ricky said. “He’s not like that!”

His father cleared his throat. “Do you have this other boy in custody?”

“I’m afraid not,” Detective Truman said. “I’m sure you can understand how important it is that we talk to him before anyone gets hurt. However, he isn’t home and his mother doesn’t know his whereabouts. Can you help us find him, Ricky? If you do, I think it will go a long way toward the judge being lenient with you.”

“All our son did was TP a house!” Ken said in shock. “That’s a teenage prank, not a crime. Surely that wouldn’t go before a judge.”