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always said her mom had enough to worry about with her dad being a drunk and shouldn’t have to worry about her, too.”

Finnerty closed his notebook and stood up. “All right,” he said. “I guess that’s it, if you can’t think of anything else—anything out of the ordinary at all.”

Lisa hesitated, and once more Finnerty and Jackson exchanged a glance.

“Is there something?” Jim asked.

“I … I don’t know,” Lisa replied.

“It doesn’t matter what it is,” Finnerty told her, reopening his notepad.

“But it doesn’t have anything to do with Kate and Bob,” Lisa said.

Jackson frowned. “Then what does it have to do with? One of the other kids?”

Again Lisa hesitated, then nodded. “With … with Alex Lonsdale,” she said.

“What about Alex?” Jim asked. “It’s all right, honey. Just tell us what happened with Alex.”

“Well, nothing, really,” Lisa said. “Ever since the accident, he’s so strange, but last night he said he was getting better, and for a while I thought he was. I mean, he was smiling, and he laughed at jokes, and he seemed almost … well, almost like he used to be.” She fell silent, and Finnerty finally asked her what, exactly, had happened.

“I don’t know,” Lisa confessed. “But finally Bob started teasing Alex about something, and Alex didn’t blush.”

“That’s all?” Finnerty asked. “The strange thing was that he didn’t blush?”

Lisa nodded. “Alex always used to blush. In fact, some of the kids used to say things to him just to watch him get embarrassed. But last night, even though he was smiling, and laughing, and all that, he still wasn’t blushing.”

“I see,” Finnerty said. He closed his notebook for the last time and slid his pencil back in his pocket. A few minutes later, when they were outside, he turned to Jackson. “Well, what do you think?”

“I still think we’re barking up the wrong tree,” Jackson replied. “But I guess we might as well have a talk with the Lonsdale boy.”

“Yeah,” Finnerty agreed. Then he rolled his eyes. “Kids amaze me,” he said. “They spend a whole evening together, and the only odd thing the girl can remember is that her boyfriend didn’t blush. Isn’t that something?”

Jackson frowned. “Maybe it is important,” he said. “Maybe it’s very important.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

Marsh Lonsdale sat listening as the two officers interviewed Alex about the events of the night before, but found himself concentrating much more on the manner in which his son spoke than on the words themselves. They were in the living room, gathered around the fireplace, and at the far end—huddled alone in a chair as if she wanted to divorce herself from everything—Ellen seemed not to be listening at all.

“Everything,” Finnerty had said an hour ago. “We want you to tell us everything you remember about last night, just the way you remember it.”

And ever since, Alex had been speaking, his voice steady and expressionless, recounting what he remembered of his activities the night before, from the time he left the house to go to Jake’s, to the moment he returned. It was, Marsh realized, almost like listening to a tape recorder. Alex remembered what everyone had said, and repeated it verbatim. After the first twenty minutes, both Finnerty and Jackson had stopped taking notes, and were now simply sitting, listening. When, at last, Alex’s recitation was over, there was a long silence, then Roscoe Finnerty got to his feet and went to the mantel. Resting most of his weight on the heavy oak beam that ran the width of the fireplace, he gazed curiously at Alex.

“You really remember all that?” he asked at last.

Alex nodded.

“In that kind of detail?” Finnerty mused aloud.

“His memory is remarkable,” Marsh said, speaking for the first time since the interview had begun. “It seems to be a function of the brain surgery that was done after his accident. If he says he remembers all of what he just told you, then you can believe he does.”

Finnerty nodded. “I’m not doubting it,” he said. “I’m just amazed at the detail, that’s all.” He turned back to Alex. “You’ve told us everything that happened at Jake’s, and you’ve told us everything everyone said. But what I want to know is if you noticed anything about Kate Lewis and Bob Carey. Did they act … well, normal?”

Alex gazed steadily at Finnerty. “I don’t know,” he said. “I don’t really know what normal is anymore. What you’re asking me to do is describe how they appeared to be feeling, but I can’t do that, since I don’t