Chương 4
Officer Green closed her notebook.
“That’s enough for now.”
“Did I answer right?” Lily asked.
“There isn’t a right way to tell what happened.”
Lily looked unconvinced.
Daniel took her home shortly after two o’clock, once the officers had photographed her belongings and returned them. The red apple came back in a clear plastic bag because Pike, perhaps remembering Daniel’s comment, decided it might matter after all. Daniel set it on the passenger-side floor of his pickup.
Lily climbed into the cab and held her backpack on her lap.
“You can put that behind the seat,” he said.
“No.”
“All right.”
He drove with both hands on the wheel. Local radio played an advertisement for replacement windows. At a red light, Lily asked whether Mrs. Sharp was going to jail.
“I don’t know.”
“She lied.”
“Yes.”
“People go to jail for lying.”
“Sometimes they don’t.”
“That’s not fair.”
“No.”
She rested her cheek against the backpack.
Daniel almost told her that Colonel Hayes would make sure the truth mattered. He stopped himself. Police officers could collect evidence. Prosecutors could file charges. School boards could remove people. None of them could make the world keep a promise to a child.
At home, Lily left her shoes by the couch instead of on the mat. Daniel did not correct her. He opened the refrigerator and stared at a jar of pickles, half a rotisserie chicken, three yogurts, and a plastic container of rice.
“Grilled cheese?” he asked.
“I’m not hungry.”
“You need something.”
“I had lunch.”
He looked at the bagged apple on the counter. “Not much of one.”
“I’m not hungry.”
Daniel shut the refrigerator too hard. A magnet shaped like a wrench dropped to the floor.
Lily flinched.
He picked it up slowly.
“Sorry.”
She nodded, still holding the backpack.
He made grilled cheese anyway. He burned the first sandwich because Officer Green called while the pan was heating. She said Mrs. Sharp had not been arrested. The officers had secured the envelope, ledger, laptop, and handbag with her consent, though she withdrew consent after the envelope was found. A detective would consult with the prosecutor about what could be examined and what required a warrant.
“What about Henderson?” Daniel asked.
“He’s been instructed not to contact you or Lily directly.”
“That wasn’t my question.”
“I know.”
“Did you take his phone?”
“No.”
“So he can call anyone he wants and tell them whatever he wants.”
“We can’t seize a person’s phone because you’re worried he’ll make calls.”
“He tried to close the video.”
“That is being documented.”
Daniel looked at the blackened sandwich.
“You sound like every office I’ve ever called.”
Green was silent for a moment. “I’m not asking you to trust a process you’ve had no reason to trust. I’m telling you what happened today.”
He exhaled.
“That’s fair.”
“We will need the original recording file from your phone. Don’t edit it. Don’t upload it. Don’t send copies around.”
“Why?”
“Because once it’s online, we spend time proving what was altered, clipped, or reposted. Keep the original device. Back it up without modifying it.”
Daniel turned off the burner.
“Colonel Hayes said there was another complaint.”
“He shouldn’t have said much about that.”
“He didn’t. I saw his face when he heard the school name.”
Green did not confirm it.
“Someone will contact you tomorrow,” she said.
After the call, Daniel scraped the burned bread into the trash and made another sandwich. Lily ate half while sitting on the living-room carpet. She watched a nature show with the volume low. A penguin stole stones from another penguin’s nest, and the narrator sounded amused.
“That one’s a thief,” Lily said.
Daniel looked at her.
She pushed the plate away.
He muted the television.
“Lily.”
“I know. Animals are different.”
“I wasn’t going to say that.”
“You were going to say I’m not.”
“You aren’t.”
She picked cheese from the edge of the bread. “Everyone thought I was.”
“Not everyone.”
“Madison did.”
“She heard a teacher accuse you.”
“She told Caleb I stole money before you got there.”
“Madison made a mistake.”
Lily’s expression hardened in a way that did not belong comfortably on a nine-year-old face. “You always say mistakes are accidents.”
Daniel sat on the floor across from her.
“No. I say accidents are mistakes sometimes. People can choose a bad thing and still call it a mistake later because that word feels smaller.”
“Will she say sorry?”
“I don’t know.”
“Would I have to say it’s okay?”
“No.”
That answer seemed to help more than reassurance would have.
Daniel’s former wife, Allison, called at four twelve. They had been divorced for five years, and she lived forty minutes away with her husband, Mark, and their toddler. Lily spent every other weekend there and part of the summer. Daniel had left three messages, each calmer than the one before it.
Allison did not bother with hello.
“Why did I learn from the district’s automated email that there was police activity at Lily’s school?”
“Because I called you three times and you were working.”
“I was in clinicals. What happened?”
Daniel told her.
She interrupted twice to ask whether he had raised his voice. The second time, he stopped talking.
“Do you want the truth,” he asked, “or are you checking whether I embarrassed you?”
“That’s not fair.”
“It’s exactly fair.”
“I am checking whether you made things harder for her.”
“Mrs. Sharp tried to extort us.”
“And you have a history of reacting.”
“A door has a history with me. People keep trying to inherit it.”
Lily looked up from the carpet.
Daniel regretted the line as soon as he said it. Allison lowered her voice.
“Is Lily there?”
“Yes.”
“Put me on speaker.”
May you like
Lily spoke for less than a minute. She said she was fine, which she was not, and that she had eaten, which was technically true. Allison asked whether she wanted to come to her house for the night.
Lily looked at Daniel before answering.
