Blood Will Tell (16 page)

“The cops are sure that I did it. And they took stuff from my locker and my room. That means they've got stuff with my DNA. Maybe, I don't know, maybe they planted it.”

“They wouldn't do that.” But Ruby didn't sound entirely certain.

“You weren't there. They all think I'm guilty. Harriman, his partner, this lady cop. I mean, Harriman seems sad, but he still thinks I did it. And his partner almost hit me. Maybe he wanted to make sure that everyone else is certain, too.”

Ruby pulled into his driveway. The house was dark. Nick checked the time on his phone. His mom was still at work. He didn't know where Kyle was. Maybe that was better. He needed time to think about what the police had said.

“Do you want me to come in with you?” Ruby asked. She didn't look at him.

“No. That's okay.” Nick couldn't wait to be alone. “Thanks again, though, for everything you did today.”

When he went inside, his house was no refuge. In his room, all the drawers gaped open. It was clear the contents had been taken out, gone through, and just stuffed back in the same general area. Nothing was folded anymore. Not that Nick ever folded anything, but his mom did. His socks and underwear, usually on opposite sides of the same drawer, were all commingled.

He imagined Harriman and his partner and that lady cop sifting through everything with gloved hands. Maybe holding up something particularly personal or embarrassing and laughing. It was like knowing someone had gone through your thoughts.

In addition to the magazines, all his notebooks, drawings, and his combat knife were gone. So was his computer. So were all his shoes. He lay down on his bed and put his arm over his eyes.

Ten minutes later the front door opened. “Nick?” his mother called.

He didn't say anything. Didn't move. He felt the bed shift as she settled in beside him.

“Nick, honey, I'm sorry.” She touched the arm over his eyes and took her fingers away. “I just thought they would have a few questions, and you would answer them, and that would be it. Of course I wasn't thinking they thought you did it. That's a ridiculous idea.”

Anger clotted his throat. “Oh really?” He couldn't stand to be so close to her. He sat up and pushed himself to his feet. “It's not so ridiculous knowing that my father is a murderer.”

He heard her quick intake of breath. “I wish you hadn't learned it like that.”

“And how was I supposed to learn it? You lied to me, over and over. You let me think he was dead!”

“I didn't tell you he was dead.” Her face was pale. “I just didn't correct you.”

“Then why did you bother to let me know the truth about Santa Claus and the Easter Bunny?” Nick's voice rose and he didn't try to rein it in. “You let me know the truth about everything
except
my dad. It was like poor little Nick, let him stay in his make-believe world.” He made a sound like a laugh. “No wonder we never go visit any family. Because they might actually tell me the truth. And you know what? I'm old enough. I deserve the truth. My whole fricking life has been a lie. I wanted to be like him.” He leaned down so he was in her face. “I wanted to be like him, and now that's exactly what they think I am.”

“Listen, Nick.” Bright red now splotched her cheeks. She blinked and tears rolled down her face. “You were four when he went to prison. Four. I did not lie. Not really. You put things together, and you thought you knew the truth. If I lied, it was more by omission.”

“Oh yeah, like that really makes a difference.” Tears burned his own eyes, but he ignored them. Why was he crying, anyway? He was mad. “Does Kyle know?”

Her long silence told him the answer. Finally, she said, “He was older. He remembered the truth. He remembered how terrible it was, the cops dragging your dad away, the reporters banging on the door and taking our pictures whenever we went outside.” She took a ragged breath. “Why do you think I don't want you to join up? Iraq changed your dad. Before, sure he got angry sometimes, but it was nothing like it was after. I look at you, Nick, and there are times I see him. In the shape of your face, the way you hold yourself. He was hyperactive, like you are. Impulsive. Good, bad, good. He teetered.”

“What? So does that mean you really think I did this thing? You think I came home from saving a little girl's life and right after that I stabbed some lady in the back and dragged her into that vacant lot to die?”

“No.” Her voice got stronger. “No. I don't believe that.”

But the thing was, Nick had heard the catch in her voice. The catch as part of her wondered if it were true.

“So what really happened to Dad? They said he beat somebody to death in a bar.”

“He went out drinking. We'd been fighting. We'd been fighting a lot. It seemed like he
wanted
to fight, like he was just looking for excuses. There was a big football game on and he went to a bar. It was like a perfect storm. He was drunk. He was on edge. And crowds, loud noises—since he had come home, those always set him off.”

Nick sat back down on the bed, but on the end, not next to his mom. Did he really want to hear this?

“He got in an argument, they took it outside, and he ended up killing that poor man with just his bare fists and his boots. The army taught your father how to be a killer. And then it turned him loose. When he came home, he didn't remember how to be anything else.”

Nick half turned to look at her.

“I had to see his wife every day at the trial.” Her face was wet with tears. “This woman could have been me.” She let her words trail off and swiped at her eyes. “She had two little kids, too. In another life, we could have been friends. But she … she hated me. My husband took her husband away from her.”

“He didn't
take
him,” Nick said. “He killed him.”

She let out a long sigh. “You don't understand, Nick. He didn't only kill that poor man that day. Don destroyed himself, too. He blew up two families at the same time. I tried to talk to her once, but she said, ‘You can still go visit your husband in prison. The only place I can talk to my husband is at the cemetery.'” Her voice shook. “Society doesn't want to see the families behind the mug shots. But we exist. I didn't ask for this to happen. But I have had to pay for this. I raised two boys alone on one salary instead of two. And I've learned not to tell people. Because if you do, they think you deserved it. That it was your fault for not knowing what he was capable of.”

 

CHAPTER 36

NICK

FRIDAY

WHERE WERE YOU?

Kyle knocked on the door, opening it before Nick even answered.

“Dude! Mom said the police questioned you about that girl!”

His brother didn't look scared. He looked excited. Maybe that was how killers reacted to scary things.

“Look, don't tell Mom,” Nick said. “But they said they found DNA at the scene. There's a way they can test just a part of the male chromosome and look for a match. It matched—it matched Dad! That's how I found out about him. And the cops said it had to be a relative of his. That means it's me or you. And I know it's not me.” As he said the words, their meaning sank in even deeper.

“You're joking, right?” Kyle stared at him incredulously. “You're my brother. You've known me all your life. Can you really think that?”

“I thought I knew who my dad was, and I was wrong about that.”

“That's because you never knew him. You only knew this image of him you built up in your mind.”

“How is that any different from you? How well do I really know you?”

“Please! Have you thought that maybe the police are just messing with you? Lying to you to get you to confess?”

“I saw the lab report.”

Kyle rolled his eyes. “Or you saw what looked like a lab report. They were just trying to get you to confess. They weren't trying to get you to think it was me.”

“So where were you that night, Kyle? Because I know you weren't home.”

“All right.” Kyle raised his eyebrows. “You want to know the truth? I was there that night.”

“What?”

“I was there. At the Last Exit.”

“Oh my God, you did it.” It was his worst fear come to life. Not for himself, but for his brother.

“No.” Kyle shook his head, sounding irritated. “No! Of course I didn't do it. I just went there because I couldn't sleep, that's all. You know Mom. She sleeps like the dead. When I couldn't, I just got up and walked down to the bar. It's not even about the beer. It's just a place I can loosen up, have fun, maybe meet some girls. Older girls.”

“Uh-huh,” Nick said, not knowing what was true.

“I even saw that girl. That Lucy Hayes. I watched her walk in, and about twenty seconds later she picked up two beers and dumped them on this dude and this girl. And then the bartender said he was going to call the cops. I took off even before she did. My fake ID is not that good. And I knew Mom would go ballistic if she found out I was going to a bar. I guess now you know why.”

Could his brother be telling the truth? “Do you think someone else who was at the bar might have done it?”

Kyle shrugged. “I don't know. The two she dumped the beer on were pretty mad.”

“Did you see anything when you were walking home?”

“Not really. It's pretty quiet that time of night.” He looked up at the ceiling, remembering. “I remember a blue pickup passing me, one of those cool old Chevys from the fifties. Other than that, nothing. But I never got less than a few yards from that girl. I certainly didn't touch her. You have to believe me.”

“I do,” Nick said. “Of course I do.”

But he didn't. Not really. Because according to the DNA, it had to be one of them who killed her. And if it wasn't his dad and it wasn't him, then it had to be Kyle.

 

CHAPTER 37

ALEXIS

SATURDAY

PUSHED TO THE EDGE

“Over here!” Alexis waved at Ruby when the other girl walked into Stumptown Coffee. Nick had wanted to meet here, and Alexis had to admit it was cool, with its exposed brick and hipster vibe. But she couldn't afford to drop nearly four dollars on a latte. Instead she had gotten a house coffee. Which was still expensive.

While Alexis waited for Ruby to order, she cradled the warm mug in her hands and thought about Bran. His confession had brought them closer together, knocked down a wall she hadn't even known existed. They were getting together again tonight.

But first she had to help Nick. Or try to help him.

Carrying a drink and a pastry, Ruby made her way to the table. “Have you read the paper yet today?” she demanded as she put down her things.

Alexis shook her head. Reading the paper seemed like something only old people did.

“There's a paper in that bin by the door.” Ruby took a small foil packet from her backpack. “Go get the metro section.”

Alexis followed her instructions. She started reading the story as she walked back.

POLICE SEE PROGRESS IN MURDER CASE

PORTLAND—Four days after Lucy Hayes was found stabbed in a vacant lot in Portland, police say they have identified a possible suspect in her murder.

“We have interviewed several people who could be suspects and eliminated all but one,” Homicide Detective Rich Meeker said. “We're putting together a solid case against this person, including DNA evidence.”

Meeker said the suspect was a male teenager, but he would not identify him further, saying he did not want to jeopardize the investigation.

A 21-year-old college student, Hayes was discovered near death Monday morning in a vacant lot in Southwest Portland. She was found a few blocks from the Last Exit Pub and Grill, which she had left the previous night on foot. She was killed by a single stab wound.

A private funeral will be held today for Hayes.

Accompanying the article was a photo of Lucy Hayes with a man, his face covered by a black dot. He had his arm around her shoulder. Both of them were dressed semiformally, like for a wedding or a dance.

Alexis felt queasy. To the general public, “male teenager” didn't say much. But if you knew that the police had taken Nick from school and questioned him for hours, it was pretty clear who they meant.

The sharp smell of rubbing alcohol made her look up. Holding her fork with a napkin, Ruby was painstakingly wiping the tines and handle with a small white wet square.

“You never know who's touched something that's kept in a communal container,” she said, giving her fork one final squint-eyed inspection.

Ruby's mind worked in mysterious ways. But maybe it was good that it worked the way it did. Alexis hadn't thought anything of it yesterday when Nick texted them, half bragging about how he was consulting with the police. But Ruby's increasingly frantic texts telling him to be careful and Nick's radio silence had slowly changed her mind.

“It sounds like they're sure Nick's guilty.” Alexis folded up the paper.

“You know he didn't do it, right?” Ruby looked at her for a half second and then her gaze slid away.

Alexis hesitated. She didn't want to believe Nick had done it, but was it possible? Nick was impulsive. He didn't like rules. On callouts, they were supposed to wear their SAR helmets at all times, but Nick wouldn't put on his until one of the leaders or an adult reminded him. She had also seen occasional flashes of impatience and anger. What would Nick do if he were pushed to the edge?

And he was so awkward around girls. He could barely look her in the eye—and not just because he sometimes was staring at her chest. Sometimes he was staring at his own feet. Stammering and mumbling.

But there were other facets of Nick. He could be kind, generous, even unexpectedly brave. Were those two sides of the same coin? Was he also capable of unexpected violence?