close, fine. But the black recorder would get it all. No fading voices.
“We, uh, we really expected your mother and Dr.
Greenway to be here,” Trumann said, glancing at Mc-Thune.
“They’re with my brother.”
“How is he?” McThune asked gravely.
“Not too good. Mom can’t leave his room right now.”
“We thought she’d be here,” Trumann said again, and looked at McThune as if uncertain how to proceed.
“Well, we’ can wait a day or two until she’s available,” Mark offered.
“No, Mark, we really need to talk now.”
“Maybe I can go get her.”
Trumann took his pen from his shirt pocket and smiled at Mark. “No, let’s talk a few minutes, Mark. Just the three of us. Are you nervous?”
“A little. What do you want?” He was still stiff with fear but breathing better. The recorder hadn’t beeped or shocked him.
“Well, we want to ask you some questions about yesterday.”
“Do I need a lawyer?”
They looked at each other with perfectly symmetrical open mouths, and at least five seconds passed before McThune cocked his head at Mark and said, “Of course not.”
“Why not?”
“Well, we just, you know, want to ask you a few questions. That’s all. If you decide you want your mother, then we’ll go get her. Or something. But you don’t need a lawyer. Just a few questions, that’s all.”
“I’ve already talked to the cops once. In fact, I talked to the cops for a long time last night.”
“We’re not cops. We’re FBI agents.”
“That’s what scares me. I think maybe I need a lawyer to, you know, protect my rights and all.”
“You’ve been watching too much TV, kid.”
“The name’s Mark, okay? Can you at least call me Mark?”
“Sure. Sorry. But you don’t need a lawyer.”
“Yeah,” Trumann chimed in. “Lawyers just get in the way. You have to pay them money, and they object to everything.”
“Don’t you think we should wait until my mother can be here?”
They exchanged matching little smiles, and Mc-Thune said, “Not really, Mark. I mean, we can wait if you want to, but you’re a smart kid and we’re really in a hurry here, and we just have a few quick questions for you.”
“Okay. I guess. If I have to.”
Trumann looked at his notepad, and went first. “Good. You told the Memphis Police that Jerome Clifford was already dead when you and Ricky found the car yesterday. Now, Mark, is this really the truth?” He sort of sneered toward the end of the question as if he knew damned well it wasn’t the truth.
Mark fidgeted and looked straight ahead. “Do I have to answer the question?”
“Sure you do.”
“Why?”
“Because we need to know the truth, Mark. We’re the FBI, and we’re investigating this thing, and we must know the truth.”
“What happens if I don’t answer?”
“Oh, lots of things. We might be forced to take you down to our office, in the backseat of the car of
course, no handcuffs, and ask some really tough questions. May have to bring along your mother too.”
“What will happen to my mother? Can she get in trouble?”
“Maybe.”
“What kind of trouble?”
They paused for a second and exchanged nervous looks. They had started on shaky ground, and things were getting shakier by the minute. Children are not to be interviewed without first talking to the parents.
But what the hell. His mother didn’t show. He had no father. He was a poor kid, and here he was all alone. It was perfect, really. They couldn’t ask for a better situation. Just a couple of quick questions.
McThune cleared his throat and went into a deep frown. “Mark, have you ever heard of obstruction of justice?”
“I don’t think so.”
“Well, it’s a crime, okay. A federal offense. A person who knows something about a crime, and withholds this information from the FBI or the police, might be found guilty of obstruction of justice.”
“What happens then?”
“Well, if found guilty, such a person might be punished. You know, sent to jail or something like that.”
“So, if I don’t answer your questions, me and Mom might go to jail?”
McThune retreated a bit and looked at Trumann. The ice was getting thinner. “Why don’t you want to answer the question, Mark?” Trumann asked. “Are you hiding something?”
“I’m just scared. And it doesn’t seem fair since I’m
just eleven years old and you’re the FBI, and my mom’s not here. I don’t know what to do, really.”
“Can’t you just answer the questions, Mark, without your mother? You saw something yesterday, and your mother was not around. She can’t help you answer the questions. We just want to know what you saw.”
“If