In the Blood (12 page)

Chapter Thirty-eight

“See you in five,” I call to Summer as she runs across the yard toward her house to change into her gear for our evening run. My favorite part of the day, apart from making out in the park. Running is just so exhilarating, and going with Summer makes it even better.

Mom’s car isn’t parked in the driveway. Which can only mean she was late collecting Amy, unless she’s gone shopping afterward. Though that’s highly unlikely. It’s so annoying, and the teachers aren’t gonna be happy, that’s for sure.

As I head toward the stairs, I notice a note in Mom’s handwriting leaning against the empty vase on the hall table.

Jed, police want to speak to you at the station.

My heart sinks. What about this time? I hope they’re not going to ask me to visit Dad again. I can’t. Not after what happened the last time. Except… If it helps other people, then what choice do I have?

I pull out my phone from my pocket and text Summer.

cant go running can u come over.

I walk back into the garage and straighten up my toolbox while waiting. After only a couple of minutes, I hear her footsteps outside.

“Jed, where are you?”

“Here,” I call, striding to the garage door and meeting her as she walks in. I take hold of her hand and lead her into the garage where we lean against the bench next to each other. “The police want to see me.”

“What about?” She frowns.

“No idea. Mom left me a very brief message. I’m guessing it’s about Dad. I really don’t want to go. In case they try to persuade me to see him again. But I’ll have to, won’t I?”

It’s selfish and mean of me not to agree to see him, especially if it can help another family. But after I totally screwed it up the last time, how likely is it that I’ll end up doing the exact same thing again?

“Well, you can’t just ignore them. Do they want to see you now, or should you phone and make an appointment?”

Good question. If Mom had left a decent message, then maybe I’d know.

“Not sure. Mom’s note didn’t say. I’ll go to the station now and find out. I don’t even know the name of the officer I’ve got to see.”

I let out a frustrated sigh. How hard would it have been for Mom to get more details, instead of leaving me in the dark like this?

“Good idea. Do you want me to come with you, for company?” She takes hold of a curl that’s escaped her ponytail and twists it around her finger in the cutest way possible.

“Yeah, thanks. Let’s go now and get it over with.”

…

What should only take ten minutes ends up taking forty-five because of the traffic. Eventually, we pull into the parking lot and then we head up the steps and through the double doors into the station.

I walk up to the desk and explain who I am, and the officer asks me to sit and wait.

“Why does this place make me feel guilty?” I ask Summer. “Even though I haven’t done anything wrong.”

“I know what you mean. It’s the way everyone walking past looks at us like we’re criminals. It creeps me out.” She shudders.

“No one could ever think of you as a criminal. You’re the only person I know who worries about taking sugar packets from the café,” I tease, leaning in and nudging her. She grins.

“Jed Franklin?” I glance up at the sound of my name and see a woman standing in front of me.

“Yes.” I stand and tower over her.

“I’m Detective Drake. Please, would you come with me.”

I wonder what happened to the detectives I saw last time.

“I’ll stay here,” Summer says.

“Why don’t you come with?” I say, holding out my hand. “If you want to,” I add.

“That’s not allowed. You’ll have to wait here,” the detective says tersely, glaring at Summer, before walking away.

I glance at Summer and notice how anxious she looks. “Don’t worry, it’s probably just some stupid rule which means you can’t be with me,” I say quietly. “I won’t be long.”

I slow jog to catch up with the detective and then follow her into a small room with nothing in there other than a table and three chairs. She gestures for me to sit.

“My colleague will be here shortly. Would you like a drink?”

Yeah, a beer would be good. Actually, that’s not true. I haven’t had any alcohol since Summer and I got together. Haven’t felt like it.

“No, thanks.” She leaves the room, closing the door behind her.

If I’m meant to be helping them find out about Dad, then surely she’d have been friendlier. But what else could it be? The only other time I’ve seen the police was when Dawson went missing, and that’s all been worked out. An uneasy feeling begins coursing through me, but I shake my head and mentally berate myself. I’m being stupid. It’s probably just the detective’s manner. Nothing to do with me at all.

After a few minutes, Drake strides back into the room followed by an older man. She glares at me and then goes over to a camera in the corner, picks up a remote, walks back to the table, and sits opposite me next to the other guy.

She points the remote at the camera and presses one of the buttons. “This interview will be recorded, and we will give you a DVD of it once we’ve finished, and you can give it to your lawyer, if you want to,” she says.

Recorded? Lawyer? What the fuck?

My hands begin to feel clammy. I wipe them on my jeans.

“Wednesday 4
th
June at seventeen-hundred hours. Those present detectives Drake and Foreman and Jared Franklin.”

What the hell’s going on, and what’s with the
Jared
all of a sudden?

“Jed,” she continues. “Thanks for coming in. We want to ask you about Tom Bilson.”

“Who?” I ask.

“Tom Bilson’s a sixth grader at your school.”

Bilson?
I wrack my brain, trying to remember who he is but can’t. Hardly surprising, when you think of how many students there are.

“Sorry, no. I don’t know him. Why?”

“He knows you,” Foreman says, leaning in and fixing me with narrow dark eyes.

“Yeah, well, everyone knows me, but that doesn’t mean I know them.” I roll my eyes toward the ceiling.

“He says you
do
know him, and he’s made an accusation against you.”

I sit forward in my chair. Why would someone I don’t know make a complaint about me? It makes no sense.

“What’s he accusing me of?”

What can I possibly have done to a sixth grader who I’ve never even met before?

“He said that, this morning during morning recess, you touched him. Touched him
inappropriately
.”

Chapter Thirty-nine

Touched him inappropriately.

What the hell does that mean? Rhetorical question. The thought of it makes me want to vomit and fills me with disgust.

“It’s a lie. A lie. I don’t even know him. And I wouldn’t do that,” I say, the words catching in the back of my throat as I desperately try to protest my innocence.

I stare at the floor, wishing it would open up and swallow me whole. And as I do so, everything I’d researched regarding pedophiles, all the words, images, and stories, flash before my eyes, along with Foster’s taunting words.

In. The. Blood.

But I’d never knowingly do something like that. At least not now. Not
ever,
if I have anything to do with it.

“He said you did, and that’s what we have to investigate,” Drake says, drawing me back to the present.

“Are you arresting me?”

The press would have a field day if they did. I can just imagine the headlines:
The Arizona Monster’s Son is a Chip off the Old Block.
And what the fuck will Summer think? Or Mom? And what if someone mentions it to Amy?

It doesn’t bear thinking about.

“Not at this stage. We only have Tom’s version of events. We want yours.”

“I have no
version
. I don’t even know that kid, as I’ve already told you,” I say.

There are over two thousand students at our school, and suddenly I’m expected to know all of them. It’s ridiculous. I just about know the juniors and seniors. Other than that, forget it.

“Think,” Drake says sharply, fixing me with her cold pale-blue eyes. “Morning recess today. What were you doing?”

“What I always do. I met Summer, and we went to the cafeteria for a…”

Fuck. No, we didn’t. Summer had to see the hockey coach. I went for a walk, on my own. I just can’t catch a break.

“For a what?” Drake asks.

She’s just gonna love this. The opening she’s been looking for. I wonder how long it will be before she drops my dad’s name into the conversation.

“Nothing. I forgot that Summer wasn’t with me. I spent recess alone, walking on the sports fields.”

I maintain eye contact so she doesn’t think I’ve something to hide, even though it does sound lame.

“What about your other friends?”

Before I’m able to check myself, a hollow laugh escapes from my mouth. “Well, I don’t have many; not after what my dad did.”

It’s like watching the cogs in her brain slowly move as she makes the connection, and a look of horror crosses her face. Yeah, lady. Ben Franklin’s my dad. I can’t believe she didn’t already know that. Or is she just pretending?

“So you were on your own?”

So what if I was? It’s not a crime. Lots of people like some alone time. It’s just for me it’s enforced.

“Yes.” I nod.

“And you definitely didn’t see Tom?”

“No. I don’t know. I might have. I can’t know if he was there if I’ve no idea what he looks like!”

How many times do I have to tell them before it sinks in?

The detectives exchange glances, then Drake gets up.

“I’ll be back soon.” She stops the recording using the remote.

What’s that all about? I’ve said nothing to incriminate myself. Because there is nothing to incriminate me.

Foreman leans back in his chair, his arms folded tightly across his chest. He stares at me. If I could get inside his head and see what he’s thinking, it will be something along the lines of
like father, like son.
But he’s wrong. It wasn’t me.

“Do I need a lawyer?” I ask.

Not that I have one. The only one I’ve ever come across is Dad’s, and I don’t want him. I can just imagine how that would affect everything. Plus anyone who represents my dad must be a real heartless jerk.

“Do you think you need one?” Foreman replies, his snarky tone a clear indication that he thinks I’m guilty.

“I didn’t do anything.” No self-doubts anymore. I know it.

“Then you have nothing to worry about, do you?” He arches an eyebrow then stands up and heads for the door. “Stay here,” he says before closing the door behind him.

Left alone, I let out a long sigh. My head’s spinning. It’s like as soon as everything seems to be going okay, something comes along to destroy it. Summer’s gonna be so shocked when she finds out about Tom Bilson accusing me. I wonder if she’ll believe me. If she doesn’t, then I don’t know what I’ll do. Without her faith in me, I’m nothing.

This is a fucking nightmare.

I glance up as the door opens, and Detective Drake walks in, alone.

“You can go,” she says, not bothering to sit down.

“What?” I say, jumping up out of the chair and move toward the door before she can change her mind.

“You can go,” she says, holding out her arm to stop me from going any farther. “But don’t leave town without telling us. We may need to talk to you again.”

“So you still think I had something to do with it.” My fists clench by my side.

“We don’t know. We’ll have to continue with our investigation.” A look of frustration crosses her face. “Right now, it’s your word against his. We’ll be looking for witnesses. Can you remember if anyone saw you during recess?”

Mentally retracing my steps, I don’t remember seeing anyone. But that doesn’t mean they weren’t there. I’m an expert on blocking everything out. It used to make coping much easier. Now I have Summer for that.

“No.”

Chapter Forty

Summer smiles when she sees me approaching the chairs where she’s been waiting. I try to return the smile but end up grimacing.

“Hey,” she says, a frown appearing on her face. “What happened? I was really worried because you’ve been so long.”

I shake my head and keep walking. She quickly catches up, and then we walk in silence until getting outside the station.

“Tom Bilson. I don’t know him. Do you?” The words come out with far more force than I intend.

“Yes, he goes to our school. He’s Dee’s brother. Why?” She bites on her bottom lip, a sure sign she’s not comfortable.

Well, she should try being me for a while.
Being comfortable
is something I can only dream about.

“He says I
touched
him.”

Just saying it out loud sends waves of disgust shooting through me.

“I don’t understand.”

“What’s not to understand? The kid said I touched him. In the words of the police,
inappropriately
. You know what that means, don’t you?” I wrap my arms around my head and begin to pace in a circle. Why is this happening to me now, just when things were starting to look up? I want to punch someone, or something. Anything to release the tension.

“B-but you didn’t,” she says. “Did you?” She adds, so quietly I have to strain to hear.

She slams her hand over her mouth. “Sorry. I didn’t mean that I thought you did. God, no. I’m sorry. It just didn’t come out right, that’s all. I’m so sorry.”

I stop dead in my tracks, lift my head, and stare at her. Guilt is written all over her face. She thinks I did it. Or thinks I could do it. Semantics. It amounts to the same thing. If she doesn’t believe in me, then what’s the point of anything? I need her to be on my side, not to have doubts if I’m to get through this.

“Whatever.”

“Jed, I’m so sorry. I know you wouldn’t touch Tom.”

“You don’t know.” I snap. “No one knows what I’m capable of, although we could hazard a good guess, knowing my background.”

“I thought we’d discussed all this,” she says gently, resting her hand on my arm. “You’re not like your dad or grandfather. You have a choice.”

“Yeah, you say that now,” I say shaking off her arm. “But only a second ago, in your mind, you had me abusing Tom Bilson. I get it. Why wouldn’t you think that? It’s what everyone else thinks, too.”

Summer lowers her head, but not before I see tears glistening in her eyes. I hate to see her upset, but how does she think I feel knowing that she could think that of me?

I stride off in the direction of the car. Once I’ve given Summer a ride home, there’s only one place I’m heading, and that’s to the liquor store with my fake ID.

…

“God, you look awful,” Summer says as she walks into the kitchen. “Are you okay for school?”

I kept my promise to myself and got wasted last night. Only I did it in the comfort of my bedroom and not the park or any other public place. That way, no one can accuse me of doing anything. I’ve been up since five, vomiting. Now there’s nothing left inside of me.

“Yeah, I’m fine. Let’s go.”

I take a step in her direction, and as I get close, she wrinkles her nose.

“No guessing what you’ve been doing. Have something to eat before we go, even if it’s just a breath mint. You still reek of alcohol.”

She shakes her head and lets out an exasperated sigh. It’s like her bossy kindergarten side is coming out again, which I haven’t seen in years. Usually, she gets her own way more subtly.

“Who do you think you are, my mom?” I draw my lips back attempting to grin, and wish I hadn’t as it pulls painfully on all my facial muscles.

I don’t want her to think I’m still mad with her. I’m over it. The situation is what it is. And I’m still under suspicion for something I didn’t do.

“Not your mom, your girlfriend. And forget driving today. We can go in my car.”

Too tired to argue, I grab some OJ from the fridge and a slice of dry bread and follow Summer outside. I don’t even say goodbye to Amy, because she’d be upset by the state of me.

“I’m sorry about yesterday,” Summer says once we’re on the road. Her cheeks are flushed, and she keeps staring ahead.

“Forget it,” I say, giving a shrug.

“Please don’t start drinking again. Whatever Tom said, it was a mistake. Things are good. You’ve changed so much this last couple of weeks, and I don’t want this to send you back to how you were before.”

I don’t know whether to laugh or cry. Summer has such a black-and-white view of everything. She thinks that, because she persuaded me everything’s gonna be okay, then it will be.

“It won’t. Promise.” I drape my arm across her back and squeeze her shoulder.

She sighs audibly then turns to face me, a smile so huge on her face that it reaches up to her eyes which are bright and shining. We don’t really talk much until we get to school; then, after parking, we go in together.

Walking down the corridor toward the lockers, you could cut the air with a knife.

“Kiddie fiddler,” I overhear a guy say as I walk past him.

I glance at Summer to see if she heard it, too.

Her eyes are wide, and her expression one of shock.

She did.

“Ignore them,” I say to Summer, taking hold of her hand to make sure she keeps moving and doesn’t give them the satisfaction of knowing that their comments are getting to us. “I’ve heard a lot worse since my dad got arrested.”

Except this is about me, and I can’t mentally distance myself from it. Unless I keep reminding myself that it’s bullshit and that I didn’t touch the boy.

“But it’s not fair. You didn’t do anything,” she says coming to an abrupt halt and clenching her fists, her face set hard.

I shove my hands into my pockets and sigh. She won’t like witnessing the abuse I’m gonna get, but at least it might finally get the message home. That this is how it’s gonna be for me.

“Yeah, well, life isn’t fair.”

And that’s the understatement of the year. I must have done something really bad in a past life to end up like this. Everything feels worse than it did when Dad was first charged, because now there’s even more at stake. My happiness with Summer.

A hollow laugh escapes my lips, and Summer flinches.

“You have to stand up to them and say it’s not true.” She places her hands on her hips and nods for emphasis.

As if that will make a difference.

“Like when my dad pleaded not guilty, you mean. Who the fuck is going to believe me?”

She runs her fingers through her hair and sighs. It’s like she thinks I’m being deliberately obtuse. But all I’m doing is telling it like it is.

“I believe you. And so do the police, or they’d have charged you.”

For such an intelligent girl, she can be very naïve. “It’s not quite that simple. It’s my word against his. They have to investigate to see if there are any witnesses to me being with Tom. Which must be why the whole school seems to know what happened, because they’ve already spoken to people. Either that or Tom has spread it.”

“Tom doesn’t seem the sort of boy to spread it,” Summer says. “Not that I’m on his side,” she adds quickly.

Summer tries to see the best in everyone and won’t believe they could do anything mean-spirited. Though trying to get someone sent to juvie is a little more than being
mean-spirited
.

“How do you know what sort of boy he is? If he’s prepared to lie to the police and tell them that I touched him, then he’s clearly not the boy you thought he was.”

Summer’s so easy to read, and I watch the expression on her face change as she thinks about what I’ve said.

“Yeah. You could be right. I don’t get it, because it’s so unlike him, but I can’t think of any other explanation. Unless it was someone who looked like you, and he got mixed up. But that’s hardly going to happen, as everyone knows you.”

She looks so confused that I feel guilty at making her think about it. Which is crazy, but that’s how she affects me.

“Anyway, there’s no point in subjecting ourselves to this,” I say, trying desperately to lighten the mood and take my mind off things. “I’ve got a better idea. Let’s bust out of school and go somewhere for the day. I don’t have to take any more of this shit.”

Redwood Park is calling our names, and we’ll be well away from these bastards. We could even pretend for a while that nothing’s happened and that everything is how it was two days ago.

“But if we go, then what will they all think? You have to face them or it’s like admitting your guilt.”

Yeah, but really, what does it matter if people think I’m guilty or not? My life’s fucked at this school whatever happens.

“Who cares? They’ve already made up their mind, whether I’m here to defend myself or not. As far as everyone here is concerned, I’m a pedophile like my dad, and they have the evidence to back it up, thanks to some pathetic little kid who thinks it’s funny to accuse me.”

I’d love to get hold of the little shit and shake the truth out of him. To find out why he thinks it’s so funny to wreck someone’s life.

“But I still don’t get how Tom could report you to the police for no reason. He just isn’t like that. He’s a sweet kid.” She clasps her two hands together like she’s begging me to think the best of this stupid boy. Which is fucking crazy.

“So what are you saying, that he’s telling the truth and I’m lying? Because that’s the only other option.”

“I’m not saying that. It’s just I can’t believe you’re prepared to sit back and let all this stuff happen to you without trying to do something about it. You should stay here and not go into hiding, because then they’d have won.”

“Summer, it’s not a contest. How can I get that into your head?”

“That’s not the point. I love you, Jed, but you’re letting this whole situation engulf you. There’s nothing good in that. You should fight. Let people know that you are you and not your dad.”

My jaw drops. Right in the middle of all this shit, Summer tells me she loves me. She’s never told me before. And I don’t even know if she realizes what she’s just said. Should I tell her back? I’ve wanted to for long enough. But not here, not right now with all this going on. I want it to be special.

“But…”

“No buts. If you can’t stand up for yourself, then I can’t see a future for us. I’m sorry if that makes me seem uncaring. I want you to take control of your life. Because this sort of thing could easily happen again, and you can’t let it rule your life. You have to be strong.”

Yeah, clearly it wasn’t an
I love you
because she wants me to respond. More like an
I love you
but
… And now we know what the
but
is. She doesn’t think I’m strong enough. Which is crazy. For fuck’s sake, I’ve been strong since the day Dad got found out. If I hadn’t, what does she think would’ve happened to Amy? She’d have ended up with child services, that’s what. Because Mom’s hardly been able to look after her. Ditto on the house. If I hadn’t been strong, paying the bills, taking out the trash, and generally sorting stuff out, we’d now be sitting in the dark, surrounded by mess, starving.

No other teenager I know is dealing with the shit I’ve been dealing with. And my dad is only part of it.

I guess it would be better for me to say this to Summer, rather than just thinking it, but she should know it already.

“I thought you understood.” I shake my head, despair flooding through me.

It’s funny how your feelings can turn on a dime. Having Summer rat out on me is even worse than being falsely accused of touching that kid.

“I do. I know what you’ve been through and how much you’ve taken on board. But, a lot of the time, you’ve coped by withdrawing. That’s no good. It’s not facing up to whatever life throws at you, which is why you should listen to me.”

“What about you listening to me? Doesn’t that come into it?”

“You know it does. But that doesn’t mean you’re right.” She sighs and shakes her head. “Come on, let’s go to class.”

Just like that, eh? She’s gotta be kidding.

“Well, you stay if you want, but I’m going.” I turn and head back the way we came.

I listen, expecting to hear Summer’s footsteps behind me, except they don’t come.

Looks like it’s back to
me, myself, and I
.