Page 53 of What Boys Learn

“They haven’t made a formal charge and I don’t think they’re going to. Not today. As for Hernández’s pushy tactics and Benjamin’s unfortunate comments, those can be handled with a motion to suppress, but we’re nowhere near that bridge yet. I know they’re planning to reinterview some of Benjamin’s classmates, and I don’t doubt they’ll show Benjamin’s photo to staff from the motel where Izzy’s body was found and talk to anyone else who might have seen him that day.”

“How worried should I be?”

“Well, let’s see. They’ve got motive. They’ll be looking for means and opportunity. If they can confirm he was with her at the motel, you’d be justified to worry.”

He was a straight shooter. I appreciated that, even if his straight shooting made my throat constrict.

“On the other hand,” he continued, “they haven’t mentioned a warrant. They don’t have his phone or laptop. I’d call it fishing except they haven’t even bothered to cut bait. Best bet is they’re trying to show someone they’re on the case when in fact they’ve got nothing to go on.”

Trying to show someone. The Mayfields. The Scarlattis. And the other wealthy families who ran this town and wanted to know their daughters were safe.

“Okay,” I said, expelling a deep breath. “Good.”

“One other thing,” he said. “You’re a psychologist?”

“A high school counselor. Master’s in psychology.”

“Your boy ever been in therapy?”

“I’d like him to start. I have a therapist in mind, but he may not be available long-term.”

“Long-term thinking is for later. Right now, it would be helpful to show you’ve done your duty as a proactive, responsible mom. You know he’s under stress. You don’t think he’s done anything wrong but you’ve gotten him help. Even if he’s telling the truth, I can tell he’s a defiant kid—that much was clear from my first ten minutes talking to him.”

“But won’t therapy confirm that he has a problem? Wouldn’t that prejudice a judge against him?”

Ralph King held my glance.

“I see what you’re saying. But first off, half the teens in this town have been in therapy, even the ones whose only problem is not eating all their broccoli when they were toddlers. And second, narratives form. Your guy starts to put together a certain picture about Benjamin, and anyone else will be playing catch-up. It’s generally better to have your own team well assembled before you go to court, if it comes to that.”

“Got it,” I said.

“And for extra credit, if your guy can teach Benjamin when to keep his mouth shut, that would be worth a lot.”

King went back into the interview room. Ten minutes later, he came out with a phone to his ear, loosening the knot of his red tie as he hurried toward the parking lot. He mouthed,Call you later. Then, to my astonishment, Benjamin walked down the hall, shoulders slumped, no handcuffs, with Hernández following several feet behind.

The detective said, “Go home. Get some sleep. We’ll be in touch with more questions.”

I was still holding my sorry grocery bag with the plasticwrapped waffles, deodorant, body spray, a paperback, and an orange. I held it out to Benjamin and he took it, moving past me to the front doors. He pushed on one but it didn’t open. A flutter of claustrophobia tightening my chest. Those bars on my foster home windows. The security at the prison where I visited Ewan for the last time, seventeen years ago.

Finally, we heard a buzz. The door opened.

In the car, I said, “You weren’t charged. They said they’re continuing the investigation.”

“The lawyer explained.” He opened up the bag and pulled out the toaster waffles. “Thanks.”

“You’re welcome. They’re cold.”

“That’s okay.” He closed his eyes as he chewed. “Nothing like being locked up in a freezing-cold prison cell to make a toaster waffle taste better.”

I didn’t mean to laugh, but I did. Grateful for this tiny ephemeral moment of normalcy. Trying to remind myself: Life isn’t all one thing or another.

“They’re good. Try one.” He passed me the plastic bag. “We don’t want you fainting again.”

“How do you know I didn’t eat breakfast?”

“Because Iknowyou.”

I took a waffle, took a bite, and with a dry mouth, I chewed. Because I could. Because he gave it to me. Because we were in this together. Happy just because my boy was eating. Happy because he did, indeed, know me.