Page 43 of What Boys Learn

“Your son has given us permission to do a cheek swab.”

“But I don’t give permission. We came here voluntarily. That means we can leave anytime.”

“Not . . . quite,” Hernández said. “That was true ten minutes ago. It’s not the case now.”

“What did he say?” I started to rise out of my chair, then forced myself to sit down again. “Benjamin,what did you say?”

I didn’t know the lingo. Witness, suspect, person of interest. Everything was going too fast. “We need a lawyer.”

“Your son was willing to talk without one.”

I leaned forward, elbows planted on my knees, face as close as I could get to Benjamin’s. “Hey. Hey. You shouldn’t say anything without a lawyer present.”

His eyes were fixed on the can of pop. He was mad at me. Mad, hurt, and embarrassed. A dangerous combination.

“It’s not your fault if you’ve said too much already,” I told him. “This is what the police do. They’re trying to manipulate you.”

Detective Hernández leaned back in his chair. “Your mom is a little worked up. Don’t let that be a distraction. You said you want to help, and I appreciate that. When someone’s innocent, it’s best just to get all the info out on the table—”

“He’s not old enough to understand, and you know that. If he asks for a lawyer, you have to give him a lawyer.”

“If he asks, yes.”

I looked to Benjamin. “Ask, Benjamin.”

He turned his head toward me, slowly. “They already know I took the diary. They already know what it says. They already know Izzy and I saw each other at the pool. We hung out sometimes.”

“At the pool,” I said, hoping he’d confirm. School and the pool, only. Nowhere else.

“Mom, they need to know the situation so they can go and talk to the people who did it.”

“People?” Hernández asked. “You think it was more than one?”

“Person,” Benjamin corrected himself. “An older guy, like I said. The one she met up with in Wisconsin, or close. Wadsworth. Whatever. The motel.”

“So you know about the motel?” Hernández asked. “That’s not public knowledge.”

“Everyone knows.”

“Who’s everyone?”

“Kids in our class. When it came out that she died, everyone was talking about it, that morning. Even before we got to school.”

“We’ve talked to nearly everyone in your class, Benjamin. No one has mentioned a motel.”

Benjamin stared straight ahead. Hernández glanced toward me, as if he wanted to make sure I had registered the point he’d just scored, then back at Benjamin again. “Now, let’s go back to this car you saw. If you can describe it, that will help.”

“I didn’t see it.”

“You didn’t see it? But you were there, waiting for her ride to pull up on Saturday, the day she died.”

I hadn’t heard anything about a ride, or a car.

“No,” he said. “It wasn’t Saturday. I mean, I did see her Saturday, too. At the pool. But I was talking about a different Saturday, two weeks earlier, which was when the car thing happened. That’s when she gave me her underwear, and I got on my bike, and I took off.”

This part of the story was new to me, too.

Hernández said, “We’ll be checking all those dates, just so you know.”