When (20 page)

I could feel a retort forming, but Donny didn’t wait for a reply; he offered me a three-finger Scout’s-honor salute and drove off. I watched his flashy car cruise down the street,
and had no choice but to consider what he’d said.

The next morning, Donny called to say that he couldn’t get a meeting with the feds until after three, but he’d be by a little after noon to take me to lunch and
pick out a new bike.

He showed up at twelve thirty, took one look at me, and broke into a sideways grin. “Afternoon, gorgeous,” he said.

I’d paired my nicest skinny jeans with a camel cashmere hoodie from J. Crew, which Ma had given me last year for Christmas. I’d also blown out my long hair and dabbed on some mascara
and lip gloss. Finally, I’d substituted leather booties for my usual sneakers. I figured it was as close to meeting Donny halfway as I was going to get for now.

We had lunch at a sandwich shop in Grand Haven that Donny liked, then headed to the bike shop. And after much debate, I finally got to pick out a new road bike that was light as air and fast as
lightning. I was dying to hop right on and take it for a spin, but we needed to get to our appointment with the feds.

We arrived at the bureau a little before three, and Agent Wallace came to the lobby to escort us to Faraday’s office. As we entered, Faraday’s back was to us and he was speaking
angrily into his cell. “Jenny, if he wants to try out for the team, then I say he can.” There was a pause, then, “You know what? I can’t listen to this right now. He’s
got my okay. Sorry you don’t like it, but what else is new? I’ll expect a call from your attorney.”

Wallace cleared his throat loudly, and Faraday registered our presence. “I gotta go,” he muttered, jabbing at the end button with his thumb. We took our seats, and as we did, I saw
Faraday and Wallace exchange a knowing look that seemed to be about the call.

Wallace pulled his chair in from the glass office behind Faraday, and they adopted identical expressions of
Yeah?

Donny cleared his throat and reached into his briefcase. He extracted the same envelope he’d been so careful to hide from me, and handed it over to the agents. Faraday took it and opened
the flap to peer inside. I saw his eyes widen, and then he dumped out the contents on his desk. Even upside down I could tell that the envelope contained some gruesome crime scene photos. My breath
caught, and Donny laid a reassuring hand on my arm.

“What’s this?” Faraday asked, sifting through the contents while Wallace scooted his chair over for a better look.

“That’s a copy of a police file,” Donny said. “A kid named Robert Carter from Willow Mill went missing last August, and his body was found on the banks of the Waliki
River about three and a half miles south of where Payton Wyly’s body was found.”

I had to swallow the bit of bile that came up when one of the photos that Faraday was spreading out on his desk caught my eye. A close-up of the young man’s face had landed near me, and I
could see his deathdate imprinted on his forehead. 8-19-2014.

“He’d been stabbed, tortured with cigarette butts, and had his throat slashed,” Donny continued. “The MO is exactly the same as the guy who killed Wyly and
Tibbolt.”

“You mean Arnold Schroder,” Wallace said. With a sneer he added, “And your niece.”

“No,” Donny said, reaching down into his bag to pull up another set of photos and papers. “It couldn’t have been Stubby or Maddie, because they were both with me in
Florida at Disney World at the time. Here are the photos and ticket confirmations to prove it.”

Donny tossed them onto the desk, and they fanned out with all the other documentation. Faraday pursed his lips and reached for the photos that Donny had tossed while Wallace picked up the Carter
file and some of the crime scene photos. After a few seconds of silence as they sorted through the new evidence, Wallace said, “None of this proves that Schroder and your niece didn’t
murder Tibbolt and Wyly.”

My jaw dropped. Was he kidding?

Donny pointed angrily to the file. “What I’ve just delivered to you is reasonable doubt, gentlemen. You want to take this to trial? I’ll make sure the jury hears all about the
similarities between the cases.”

Wallace glared hard at him, and Faraday lifted the file out of Wallace’s hands and skimmed the pages. “Why the hell didn’t we hear about this?” he muttered to his
partner.

Donny answered for him. “Because Carter was eighteen. He wasn’t a minor, so when he went missing it was handled by the local Willow Mill police department.”

Wallace waved his hand as if that explained it. “Well. There you go, then,” he said. “Different MOs, Fynn. If Carter was eighteen, then he doesn’t fit the victim profile
of the other murders. Your niece and Schroder could’ve heard about Carter’s murder and committed a couple of copycat killings.”

“Oh, come on, Wallace!” Donny snapped. “The longer you try to pin this on Maddie and Arnold, the more time you waste getting the real killer off the street.
Look
at
Carter, for Christ’s sake. He may have been eighteen, but he was only five foot six and a hundred forty pounds. He didn’t look a day over sixteen, and you know it!”

But Wallace’s expression clearly implied that he wasn’t buying it. And Faraday set down the file and nodded, too. “Sorry, Fynn,” he said. “This doesn’t prove
anything.”

Wallace began to gather all of the documentation into a neat stack. “But, hey, thanks for bringing all this to our attention, counselor. Maybe we can find a name in Maddie’s little
death book that matches up with Carter.”

My heart started thudding in my chest. I didn’t think there would be a match in my notebook to Carter, but I also didn’t think that made any difference. If there was anything even
close to matching either his initials or his deathdate, they’d twist it to say that I’d planned it.

Next to me Donny was quietly seething. It seemed like this had all been a mistake, but I couldn’t blame him for trying. My gaze drifted to the mug shots on Faraday’s wall of
CAPTURED
felons. Was my mug shot eventually going to end up there, too?

And then that idea I’d run by Donny from a few nights before came to me along with Donny’s speech about how I was a Fynn, and Fynns didn’t back down; they stood up and stood
out. I got to my feet while I still had the courage. Lifting a felt pen out of Faraday’s pencil holder, I moved to the corner behind his desk. “What’s she doing?” I heard
him ask Donny. I knew that I’d probably startled them, but I didn’t care. Swiftly, I began to mark the photos that stood out to me. “Hey!” Faraday snapped. “Cut that
out!”

But I didn’t. I noted six photos out of about twenty in total that could help make my case. I went to those six and quickly and methodically marked the foreheads of each and every one. As
I jotted down the last digit, I felt Donny’s hand on my wrist.

“Maddie!” he whispered harshly. “What the hell are you doing?”

I handed him the pen. “Proving that I can see what I say I can see. Like yesterday with Mrs. Matsuda.”

Donny stared at me, his eyes wide, then he looked at the wall of mug shots and his brow went up.

Over my shoulder I saw Faraday and Wallace both standing with their hands on their hips, and I almost laughed because I could imagine that they were trying to think up a law I might’ve
broken. “These are right,” I said to them. “You can double-check if you want.”

I’d written the deathdate for all six mug shots. Some had died as far back as two years before, and the most recent had been about a week earlier. Donny walked me back to my chair and I
sat down, waiting on the two rather stunned agents to say or do something, but for a long time they simply stared at the wall.

Then Wallace pointed to the most recently deceased felon. “That guy’s not dead,” he said. “I personally sent him to Sing Sing last year, and as far as I know, he’s
still alive and well, enjoying a ten-by-ten cell and three squares a day.”

I turned to Donny. “I’m not wrong.”

Donny lifted his chin toward Wallace. “Check it out. We’ll wait.”

Wallace and Faraday exchanged another look, but finally Wallace shrugged and moved to Faraday’s phone. We waited while he was patched through to the warden. “Warden Thomas,”
Wallace said, all smiles and confidence. “It’s Kevin Wallace.” There was a pause, then, “I’m good, sir, and you?”

I tapped my foot with impatience while Wallace exchanged pleasantries. “Listen, the reason I’m calling is to check in on Javier Martinez. I wanted to make sure he’s enjoying
his—” Wallace’s voice cut off, and that smug expression he’d worn since picking up the phone fell away like shattered glass. “What?” he said, turning slightly
away from us to stare at the mug shot of Martinez. “When?” Faraday leaned forward in his chair, his focus intent on Wallace, who was now asking, “Why wasn’t I
informed?”

I dropped my chin and took a relieved breath. Maybe now they’d listen.

Wallace hung up, his lips pressed tightly together. “She’s right,” he said. “Martinez was stabbed with a shiv last week. He died a day later, the same date she wrote up
there.”

For a long time no one spoke, but I could practically see Faraday’s wheels turning, and I didn’t like it. “Still doesn’t prove anything,” he said to Donny, with
only a fraction less conviction than he’d had at the start of our meeting.

“You’re kidding, right?” my uncle shot back.

“Listen, Fynn, both of you have been in this office before.” Waving at the mug shots Faraday added, “How do we know that you two didn’t write down the names of all these
bastards and hit the Internet to research them and find out who was dead? If these guys are in the prison system, then anybody with a computer could look up their info. Even Martinez’s
information would have been posted online.”

Donny glared hard at him. “Maddie doesn’t have a computer, remember? You took it.”

Faraday rolled his eyes. “Yeah, but I’m betting you’ve got a laptop in that briefcase.”

Donny reached for my hand. “We’re done here,” he said.

“Thanks again for the file,” Wallace said as we got up and headed toward the door.

Donny didn’t say a word as we stormed out. At last we reached his car, and he opened my door for me, his anger evident by the set of his jaw. When I hesitated he said, “You getting
in?”

“It’s so unfair,” I started.

Donny sighed and his expression softened. “It is,” he agreed. “But, Maddie, you have to realize that people like Wallace and Faraday get tunnel vision when it comes to stuff
like this. They get so focused on trying to make all the jigsaw puzzle pieces fit that they lose sight of the big picture. With the Robert Carter murder we’ve got a solid case for reasonable
doubt, and the district attorney’s bound to realize that. All they’ve got is flimsy circumstantial evidence right now. And there’s nothing to tie you or Stubby directly to the
murders.”

I nodded and reluctantly slid into the car. Still, I didn’t like the lines of worry at the edges of Donny’s eyes. If Wallace and Faraday couldn’t be convinced I was telling the
truth after what I’d shown them with the mug shots, then how would a jury ever believe me?

I COULDN’T GET OUT OF
school fast enough on Monday. There’d been big changes waiting for me when I arrived that morning: Principal Harris
had been suspended, my American Lit paper had been upgraded to a B, and I was now being escorted from class to class by the teacher assigned to monitor the hallways for that period.

I should have been glad for all of that, and I was to a degree, but everything that was being done to help me feel safe actually made me feel even more exposed and uncomfortable. There was a
kind of tension around me from students and teachers alike, like a bubble of unease and hostility that I couldn’t get away from until I was out of the building.

So, the second the final bell rang, I bolted for the door. I had to get home and call Donny about Stubby’s pretrial. To my surprise, when I rounded the corner to my street, I saw my uncle
sitting in his car parked in the driveway. “Hey!” I said when I came up next to him.

“Hey,” he replied tiredly. It was then that I noticed he looked like hell.

I knew immediately the pretrial hadn’t gone well. Tensing, I asked, “What happened?”

Donny didn’t answer. Instead he rolled up the window and opened the car door. After getting out and locking it, he wrapped an arm around my shoulders and said, “Come on. Let’s
go inside and I’ll explain.”

Once we were inside, Donny called out for Ma. She came into the kitchen warily, as if she sensed he was the bearer of bad news. “What’s happened?” she asked.

Donny motioned for us both to sit down. Ma took ahold of my hand once we were seated, and we waited for Donny to talk. He didn’t sit down. Instead he got himself a drink of water and
leaned against the kitchen sink. “I have a lot to tell you. Most of it’s bad. You should brace yourself, Maddie.”

I swallowed hard and Ma squeezed my hand. I could feel my breath coming quicker. I wanted Donny to blurt it out so that I could begin to process the bad news. “Tell us,” I
begged.

Donny sighed and set his water glass down. “Stubby’s being held over for trial. His bond has been set at five hundred thousand dollars. I’ve talked to his mom and she
doesn’t have the fifty grand it would take to secure a loan from a bondsman, so she’s trying to get ahold of his dad in California, but it’s not looking good. Stubby may have to
remain in jail until the trial.”