AFTER BEING SIDELINED BY THEO’S FALSE CONFESSION, Menlo PD was back in full force Monday morning. The interrogations started first period.
Bree had just slumped into her desk when a blue-shirted ’Maine Man arrived in the room with a list of students. Unsurprisingly, she and John were at the top.
They were herded into the teacher conference room, where each interrogee was paired with a police officer. Bree’s Grand Inquisitor looked as if she needed a second cup of coffee: she stifled a yawn as she opened her notebook to a new page and poised her pen for action. “State your name for the record.”
“Bree Deringer.”
“Age?”
“Sixteen.”
“Home address?”
Bree rattled off her address while the officer diligently transcribed the information. But she kept an eye on Father Uberti, who slowly strolled around the conference room, hands clasped behind his back, like a prison warden patrolling the cell block. The yellowish glow of the fluorescent lights in the conference room gave his skin an unusual pallor, accentuating the sunken cheeks and the dark, hollow spaces below his eyes. Well, at least DGM was causing Father Uberti some sleepless nights. That was something.
The officer finished writing down Bree’s address, then pulled a sheet of paper out from beneath the notebook and recited a prepared statement with all the enthusiasm of a DMV employee.
“You are not being accused of a crime, and this is not a custodial interrogation. We are merely gathering information that might be relevant to the case, in regards to the victim, Ronald DeStefano. There is an interested adult present, and you may refuse to answer any questions and/or leave the interview at any time. Do you understand?”
Bree arched her brow as she eyed the back of Father Uberti’s head. “Interested adult?”
The officer sighed. “An interested adult is present to ensure appropriate protection of your rights as a juvenile, pursuant to California law.”
“Oh.” She seriously doubted if old F.U. was interested in protecting the rights of any of his students. Especially not hers.
“Do you understand?” the officer repeated.
Bree smiled. “Sure.”
“Nothing to be afraid of, Olivia. We’re just trying to gather as much information about Ronny DeStefano as we can, okay? We’re all on the same side here.”
Olivia was afraid. Terrified, in fact. Why was she being questioned about Ronny’s murder? As far as school was concerned, they barely even knew each other.
“I understand that you and Ronny had coffee last Tuesday. Is that correct?” Sergeant Callahan asked.
Olivia was on guard in an instant. They knew about her date with Ronny? It was in a public place, so of course there were witnesses.
Or a member of DGM had told them.
She didn’t quite believe anyone in DGM was a snitch, but then again, why was Olivia being questioned? Someone must have tipped them off. Either way, Olivia needed to be very, very careful.
Sergeant Callahan smiled, big and broad, and softened his eyes as he leaned in, attempting to cultivate an atmosphere of friendship and camaraderie. But his eyes were sharp and shrewd, and not the least bit friendly. His smiles and winks were an act to gain her confidence.
Olivia was too experienced an actress to fall for affected body language.
Two could play that game.
She looked up at Sergeant Callahan, her eyes wide with fear, and tensed her lower lip so it quivered, as if she were desperately holding back tears, and nodded tentatively.
“At the Coffee Clash,” she said, her voice catching. “That was the day . . . the day he . . .”
“Don’t think about it,” Sergeant Callahan said. “I don’t want to upset you.”
Olivia forced a weak smile.
Sergeant Callahan poised his pen over a blank notebook page but didn’t break eye contact. “What time did you leave the Coffee Clash?”
Olivia bit her lower lip and scrunched her brows together as if she was thinking hard. “A little after five.”
A few deft strokes from his pen while he maintained his friendly smile. “And I understand you had an attack of some kind?”
She and Kitty had discussed the plan so long ago, she just prayed she remembered it correctly. “Actually,” she said, dropping her voice, “I wasn’t sick at all.”
Sergeant Callahan’s eyes grew wide in mock surprise. “You weren’t? But I have a statement from the barista at the Coffee Clash that you were doubled over in pain and had to be assisted from the café.”
“This is embarrassing,” Olivia said. She pressed her hands to her cheeks. “But Ronny was . . .” She paused and waited for Sergeant Callahan to prompt her.
“It’s okay. Go ahead.”
Olivia sighed. “He kept trying to grab me. He wanted me to go back to his house with him. It made me really uncomfortable.” Olivia shook her head as if trying to shake off a bad memory. “I was trying to be nice, you know? Ronny was new at school, so when he asked me out, I thought I should at least have coffee with him. But he wouldn’t take no for an answer, so . . .”
“So you pretended to be sick.” Sergeant Callahan looked down at his notebook while he transcribed her account of last Tuesday. Her act was working.
“Mm-hm.”
“And a patron at the café helped you outside, right?”
Olivia nodded.
“Do you know her name?”
Olivia didn’t have time to wonder whether or not their stories would match up. She had to hope they’d be on the same page.
“Kitty Wei.”
Kitty swallowed and considered the question carefully. Sergeant Callahan continued to watch her, his eyes sweeping her face for any sign that she was lying. “Everyone knows Olivia Hayes,” she said simply. “She’s like the most popular girl in school.”
“You saw that she was having an attack and you jumped in to help.” It wasn’t a question.
“She was grabbing her stomach, low on the right side. My dad’s appendix burst six years ago and it seemed like the same kind of pain. Everyone stood around watching her, not doing anything. So I did.”
“I see.” He wrote something down on his notepad and looked up at her again, his pale gray eyes locked on her own. “And did you know who she was having coffee with?”
Kitty shook her head. “I’d never met him before.” At least that wasn’t a lie.
“What happened after you helped Olivia outside?”
This was the tricky part. She and Olivia had agreed on a story last week, but they hadn’t gone over it since. A stupid mistake, but Kitty had to hope that Olivia remembered the original plan.
“She seemed fine the second I drove out of the parking lot. Said she didn’t need to go to the hospital, and I drove her home instead.”
“And she didn’t mention it to you at school the next day?”
Oh, how little adults understood the intricacies of high school social life. “We don’t exactly hang out with the same people,” she said. Then she added, “Besides, we got the announcement about Ronny’s death first thing in the morning. That’s all anyone’s talked about since.”
“Did you realize at some point that the guy at the Coffee Clash was the victim?”
Kitty shook her head. “I never got a good look at him.”
“I see.” He scribbled some more notes, then nodded to himself. “Thank you, Kitty. You’ve been very helpful.”
But Kitty didn’t let down her guard until she stepped outside into the courtyard.
