The Second Son (32 page)

He took that as progress. “That’s right. Of course. Now, what happened out there? You did ride out to the dam with Gail?”

“Yes,” I finally acknowledged, “we were going to have a picnic.” I tried desperately to banish thoughts of skinny-dipping from my mind.

He leaned forward across the table again. “Were you wearing that shirt you’ve got on now?”

“No.” I wasn’t playing games with him, although I’m sure he thought otherwise.

“Describe the shirt you were wearing for me, Mike.”

“It was grey, with stripes, white stripes.”

“Did it have buttons down the front?”

“No, it’s the kind you pull over, with a collar, and three buttons at the top. Or maybe just two.”

“Buttons, you mean?”

“Yes.”

“And it was grey and white?”

“Yes.”

“Do you know where that shirt is now, Mike?”

That was a blow. The image popped into my head, the image I didn’t want to think about. “Did you find my shirt? Did Gail wake up? Is she all right?” Part of me still couldn’t accept what had happened, still hoped it was all a big mistake. I wiped some tears away, determined not to cry in front of them.

Chief Kennedy frowned some more and shook his head. “No, Mike. Gail isn’t going to wake up. You know that. Now tell me, where did you leave that shirt?”

I knew what he wanted me to say. I didn’t care. “I don’t know.”

“I think you do, son. Did you leave your shirt up at the dam?”

“I guess so.”

“Where at the dam? Any particular place?”

“I don’t know.” I couldn’t face the thought of Gail, lying there, not waking up, ever. I looked over at Miss Cowan and was dismayed at the sight of her writing this all down, like it was making it permanent, somehow. The chief gave a big sigh and continued, “What about Gail’s horse, Mike? What happened to the horse?”

“I don’t know. It was tied up, wasn’t it?”

“It was tied up? Is that what you’re saying?”

“Yes.” He got all tensed up, then, like he wanted to grab me or something. “Then how come you called the MacDonald’s house and told them the horse was wandering loose?”

“I never said that,” I protested. He had caught me by surprise with the question and it was probably easy to misread the guilt he saw in my eyes. I tried to explain. “It wasn’t me. I never talked to anybody. On the phone.”

That’s when the chief made his big mistake. I hated what Andrew had done with that phone call and was ready to tell on him, right then. Only the chief was too quick to celebrate his victory. “Now I know you’re lying, boy. It’s written all over your face. And what about Gail? Did you leave her up at the dam, too? Why didn’t you go to the farm with the horse, like you said earlier? What happened to Gail? Tell me.”

He was so sure he had caught me in a lie, so sure he knew all the answers. I folded my arms. “Why don’t you get my mom? She’ll tell you.” We’d see how smart he was when my mom got there.

My cleverness was lost on him. “She won’t be able to get you out of this, Mike. You’re in real trouble this time and there’s no use trying to lie your way out of it.”

I bristled. “I am not. She’ll tell you, it’s not my fault.”

“What’s not your fault? What happened out there? You can tell me. I’ll help you.” He seemed almost sincere. “You just have to trust me. Why wasn’t it your fault?”

I might have told him at that point, just to show him I wasn’t a liar, but there was a commotion out in the waiting room, and someone knocked on the door. It was Dr. Wallace. Not the old Dr. Wallace, the one that sewed up my head when I was a kid, but his son, Dr. Peter Wallace. I guess he served as the county coroner in those days, not that I had a clue. I just knew him as young Dr. Wallace who had started giving us our checkups every year after he took over his father’s office. My dad was at the door, too, trying to hear what was going on, I suppose.

The doctor stuck his head in and said, “I agree with you, John Paul. We’ll still need an autopsy, but I’m pretty sure you were right.”

The chief got that grim look again and nodded his head. “I was pretty sure, as it was.” He stared at me for a minute, then added, “Will you examine him, Doc? It’s important we do it right away. I’d call the OPP, but I’m sure they’d agree.”

“Yes, certainly,” the doctor answered calmly, while I sat there wondering if it was time to start telling on Andrew. “They’ll want us to examine his clothes, too, I’m sure.”

The chief nodded, then turned to my father, who was standing inside the door by now, all the blood gone from his face. I was starting to get scared, too. For Andrew. I couldn’t understand why he hadn’t come down here, with my mom. It wouldn’t be long now and I’d have to tell them everything, especially after they examined me and found nothing. I mean, Doctor Wallace didn’t scare me much. He’d seen me naked every year since I was nine. Just last fall he’d held my balls in his hand and told me to cough, so I wasn’t that afraid of being examined by him. I just figured they were going to be pissed off at me for wasting all their time, just like I had with Sister Anthony the year before.

Then my dad asked Chief Kennedy to step into the hall for a moment. They left the door open wide enough that I could hear. “What’s he telling you, John Paul? Can you tell me?”

“He’s not saying much. Not yet, anyways.”

“What’s going to happen to him? I mean, how bad can this get? Is he going to need a lawyer?”

“I can’t tell you that, Ed. Not yet.” The chief snuck a look back at me, then closed the door a little more. I heard the last part of a muffled question from the chief, “. . . with last summer?”

I could see my dad shaking his head and looking over at me. I heard something about an accident, but that was all I could make out. Then the chief spoke again, a little louder. “How old is he?”

“Thirteen. Why?” Then my dad said something else but I couldn’t pick it up.

I heard the chief, though. “When will he be fourteen?”

“This fall,” I heard, probably because I knew the answer myself.

Then the chief opened the door halfway. On purpose, I thought. “Well, it’s hard to say, Ed. If he had been fourteen he might be looking at adult court. That would be damned serious, if the cause of death is what I think it is. As much as life in prison. As a juvenile, though, it might not be so bad. He’ll go before a judge, if it comes to that. How severe the charges are depends on what we find, in the autopsy — you know what I mean. Then it depends on the Crown Prosecutor, and the judge.” He looked back at me. “And his story, if we ever get it out of him. I can’t help him, though, if he won’t talk to me, explain what happened.” He raised his voice on that last part.

“Jesus, Jesus,” my father moaned, “what the hell am I going to tell his mother.”

“Does she know about that other thing?”

“Well, she had her suspicions.”

I thought I knew what they were talking about. At the same time as I was suddenly more afraid, I was angry at the thought of my father betraying me to Chief Kennedy, and maybe to my mother. I started wondering how long it would be before he told him about the gun. Of course, then he would have to tell him about shoving half a pack of cigarettes down my throat. I smiled at the thought of him having to admit to his brutality.

Maybe the chief caught me smiling, because he sounded pretty pissed when he added, “Then tell her he’s goddamn lucky he hasn’t turned fourteen yet. And ask her if she knows how to get him to talk, because I’m running out of patience here.”

“He can be stubborn,” my father answered. “He’s hard to figure out, sometimes.”

“That’ll only hurt him, in these circumstances. Do you want to try and talk to him?”

He seemed to think about that for a moment, then shook his head. “He might say more to his mother. I’ve had trouble getting through to him, lately.”

The chief nodded, “Okay, why don’t you call her? See if she’s in any shape to come down here. He’s been asking for her, and we’re going to need a change of clothes for him. Maybe she can help.”

Of course she can, I told myself. And she’ll know the truth by now, back there with Andrew and that scratch on his damn guilty face.

I MUST HAVE BLUSHED
like a boiled lobster when they found that mess in my pants. I hadn’t counted on Chief Kennedy being there. They had taken me into a smaller room with no windows. I kept telling myself my mother would arrive any minute and it would all be over. Let them examine Andrew and find that scratch on his face and they’d know pretty damn soon it wasn’t my fault. I stood there, concentrating on not crying, while Doctor Wallace looked me up and down, back and front, touching me with his long cold fingers, even stretching out my penis like he wanted to see how long it was. That was the worst part. That and the look Chief Kennedy gave me when the doctor showed him my bathing suit. Discharge he called it, like it proved I was the worst pervert in the world. They put my clothes in a paper bag and gave me a prickly old blanket to wrap myself in while we waited for my mother.

My dad brought the clean clothes into the little room. “Lorna’s here,” he said. “She wants to talk to him.”

“That’s what I had in mind,” the chief answered. “We’ll let him get dressed, then meet her in the interview room.” He closed the door behind him and handed me the clothes. “Okay, kid, let’s get going.”

I scrambled into the clothes as quick as I could, anxious to meet up with my mother and get this nightmare over with. Chief Kennedy had a whispered conversation with Doctor Wallace, then took me alone to meet my mother. He started to sit down but my mother asked, “Can I talk to him alone, John Paul? It might be best, don’t you think?”

He thought about that for a second, then nodded, “I’ll wait outside. I’m sure we can get it cleared up pretty quickly, if he’ll just understand that he’s got to tell us everything that happened. The lies have to stop. You’ll impress that on him?”

“Yes, of course,” she nodded. The chief left and she sat down beside the table. “Come here,” she said, “move that chair over here, beside me.” Her hair was kind of mussed up and there were dark circles under her eyes. She must have been crying pretty hard to get like that. She had changed her dress, I noticed, to that dark blue one I always liked, with the little yellow polka dots that made her look so pretty, like a starry sky at night. And she was wearing my last year’s Christmas present, a glass brooch shaped like a maple leaf, the one I had spent most of my money on at the Five and Dime Store. I was feeling better already.

When I sat down beside her she reached over and took my hand. “It’s all right,” she said, “I talked to Andrew.”

Gratitude flooded my heart. “He told you what happened?” I blurted.

She nodded slowly, staring at me like she was seeing me for the first time. “Yes, he told me everything. You don’t have to be afraid, Mike. He told me it was an accident.”

“I know,” I nodded, “it was so awful. I can’t really believe it. I was right there and it happened so fast that . . .” The tears were giving me trouble as I tried to tell her all the awful things I was thinking. What would happen to Andrew? Would everybody hate us? And Gail, what about Gail? Was she already in heaven? How could we be sure? I wiped away the tears and tried to talk again, “Mom — ”

“It’s okay, Mike,” she murmured as she stroked my arm with her other hand. “You just have to tell Mr. Kennedy what really happened.” I nodded in agreement, glad it was finally over. Then she added, “I just have one favour to ask you.”

“A favour?”

“Yes,” she smiled, “just a small favour. Do you think maybe we could keep it between ourselves, that Andrew was there? I mean, he has such a brilliant future ahead of him. Couldn’t you just leave him out of it? Could you do that for me, darling, please?”

She had plenty of time to recite that little prayer for Saint Andrew. I still had my mouth hanging open, even after she’d finished. I finally managed to sputter, “B-but, Mom, Andrew
was
there. And it was him who — ”

“I know, dear,” she interrupted, “he told me all about it. How he drove up there to make sure you were okay — you know you shouldn’t be swimming at that dam with no adults around — and how he got there too late. And how you hit him with that stick.”

I jerked my hand away. “But Mom, I hit him because — ”

“It’s okay, dear, I understand why you went so crazy. After what happened.”

“But — ”

“You didn’t help yourself, you know, attacking your brother like that.” It didn’t matter how much I sputtered. She was determined to paint the picture she had in her head, the one where Andrew was innocent. “He’s got an awful scratch on his face, though I’m sure you didn’t mean it. It’s just that it might be better if we didn’t tell the chief about that. I mean, if we get Andrew involved in this and he has to tell the police how crazy you were acting . . . well, you can see how that will hurt you, can’t you?”

“
Me
? But it was Andrew — ” I’m not sure, but maybe she knew each time what I was going to say, because she put a finger to her lips and stopped me again.

“You know who they’ll believe, don’t you? Andrew has never been in trouble a day in his life.”

“B-but I don’t . . . h-how can you . . .” I sputtered on, unable to fathom how the world could get so upside down, all on the strength of a mother’s will.

“I thought about it all the way down here,” she went on, “and I’m sure I’m right about this. If people find out you attacked Andrew like that, well, I’m sure they won’t believe us when we say it was all an accident — what happened with Gail. So you can see why it’s so important to keep your brother out of this. I mean, you may have to go away for little while. But in a year or so you’ll be back home with us. And we’ll be a family again. You understand, don’t you?”

“Go away? But Mom — ” I tried once more to protest.

“You’ll do this for me, won’t you, dear? You know I love you.” She paused for the briefest of seconds before she added, “And I know you love me.”

Many years later I had a medical test that involved pumping some chemicals into my bowels. The instant that cold liquid started moving up my belly I was drawn back to that narrow stone-walled room in the Alexandria Courthouse. It was the same thing that night, when it finally hit me, what she was doing. A long cold snake slid silently from my heart, making its way through all my veins and arteries until I was fully possessed by it — a pure, cold, clean, hate.