The Truth Read Free Page B

finished talking to the police? Did you go home?”
    â€œYes.”
    â€œGo on from there.”
    â€œI don’t understand.”
    He leans forward again, over the back of the chair. “Tell me what happened after you killed my brother. I want to know how it changed your life. How it changed you. ”
    â€œWhy would you want to know that?”
    â€œThe only thing you should care about is telling the truth.” To emphasize this, he puts the garden shears back in place, once again embracing my little finger. “Now keep going.”
    I don’t know what more this guy wants. I told him what I told the detective. What more is there? Is there something he knows? Something he’s not telling me? Is he waiting to see if I’ll trip up, give him an excuse to cut me?
    â€œYou were finished with the cop, and you went home…” he urges.
    All I know is I’ve still got all my fingers. I’m still alive. And people have got to be looking for me, don’t they? If I keep stalling, maybe I can allow time for them to find me.
    I take a shaky breath.

4
    Then
    We don’t leave the station till six thirty in the morning. The first few miles home, no one says anything. I glance in the rearview mirror. Devon has his head down. I can’t see his face. Finally, Mom says that Devon and I are not going to school today and suggests the three of us stay in a hotel for the day instead of going home. Get some rest, maybe go somewhere fun. She can call in at the diner. We can go home tomorrow.
    â€œI’ve got a game tonight,” Devon says in a quiet voice.
    â€œWell, I’m sure one game—”
    â€œNo way you’re gonna miss your game, buddy,” I assure him. I look at Mom. She frowns at me then glances away.
    A few more miles of silence pass before Devon mumbles, “I don’t want to go to a hotel.”
    â€œThat’s fine,” Mom says after a moment. “We’ll go home. But no school. We need sleep. You especially, Devon.”
    As it turns out, he can barely keep his eyes open as we pull in the driveway. I walk him into the house and right up to his room. “Don’t forget to wake me in time for the game,” he mumbles as he settles in, still wearing the clothes he’d changed into before going to the police station.
    â€œYou got it.” I sit with him for a moment, rubbing his back as he closes his eyes. Not two minutes later, he begins to snore. Looking at the two of us, you might not think we were brothers. He’s blond and I’m dark haired. And even though he’s only ten, he seems broader and stronger than me, with my skinny frame. Another year or two at most and he’ll be taller than I’ll ever be.
    I hear the phone ringing from the extension in Mom’s room as I stand up. As I come out of Devon’s room, Mom steps into the hallway, phone in hand. “It’s for you,” she says, handing it to me before heading downstairs.
    It’s Terry, calling from school. Terry lives a couple houses down the street from us; we’ve been best friends since he moved into the neighborhood when we were eight. He has a younger brother as well. Brady and Devon play together on the same Little League team.
    Because he’s in band, Terry gets to school earlier than I do. I hear the sound of kids talking in the background, somebody blowing a trumpet. “Chris, are you all right?” he asks. “I saw the cop cars last night. I wanted to come over, but Mom wouldn’t let me.”
    â€œI’m okay,” I mumble.
    â€œKids are talking stupid here. Guys are saying you shot some dude. That’s crazy, right?”
    I hesitate, mumble something like, “Somebody broke in…”
    â€œWhat? You mean it’s true? Jesus, Chris…” A pause. “Are you coming in late today?”
    â€œNo. We just got back from the police station a little while ago. We need to