much about that day? Finding her?”
I smile grimly. “Pretty much. I’d hung around too long after school that afternoon instead of going straight home like I was supposed to, so I took a shortcut through the woods. Another no-no. While I was walking, I stumbled over this pile of leaves—and she was there. Practically underfoot.”
My voice cracks. I take another deep breath and slowly exhale. “At first I didn’t even realize what I was looking at.”
“That must have been so awful, Ally.”
“Tell me what you remember, will you?”
“I remember how shaken you seemed. And how sad I felt for you. . . . Dad must have called and I decided to come home.”
The waitress interrupts before I can say anything, setting my water on the table.
“But weren’t you already there for some reason?” I ask. “I remember sitting with you in the family room that Friday night when the police talked to Dad and Mom in the kitchen.”
He pulls back in his chair. “God, you’re right. I was going to travel that summer before grad school, and I came home for a few weeks in the spring.”
“I take it Dad filled you in on everything then?”
“He did, though some of it’s fuzzy now. I remember the girl was only two and that she’d died from a blow to her head. I also know Dad and your mom were pretty distraught.”
“I was worried they were mad at me. For taking the shortcut, for hanging at school.”
“I don’t think they had any room left over to be mad. For starters, they were incredibly concerned about the impact the experience would have on you, and I remember your mom working so hard to find you a good therapist. You know, I wonder if it would be of any use for you to talk to the psychologist you saw back then. See if she has any insight.”
“Louise Hadley was her name. But she was at least in her late forties. She might not even be alive.”
“Let me ask around and see what I can find out.”
“I’d appreciate that. What did you mean by ‘for starters,’ though?”
“What?”
“You said that for starters they were worried how finding the body would affect me. What else?”
“Oh, they weren’t happy about all the time you had to spend with the cops. They were afraid that being questioned was as tough for you as finding the body.”
“It was tough. The first time was bad enough—when they came to the house and I had to go to the woods with them and point out where she was. But then a day or two later I had to talk to them all over again.”
“Ah, right. They didn’t take you to the police station, did they?”
“No, the second interview—and I think there was a third, too—was in a room at some kind of municipal center.” It’s still all there in my mind’s eye. The yellow walls. The small chair I sat in. The huge pit in my stomach. “I guess it was where they took kids so it would be easier for them to talk. But it was unnerving. I didn’t understand why they kept asking me the same questions over and over again.”
“They had an agenda.”
I feel a prick of anxiety. “What do you mean?”
“Are you sure you want to get into this?”
“Of course.”
Roger sighs. “One guy—I don’t even remember his name—told Dad and Lilly they thought you were being evasive.”
“Evasive? What?”
“I’m sure he was a total jerk.”
“If I seemed evasive, it was because I was shell-shocked,” I say, disturbed by his revelation. I can feel my pulse quickening. “And I was worried that they’d be upset about the shortcut part, too. That maybe I’d gone someplace I wasn’t allowed to.”
Roger turns his attention to a small bowl of homemade potato chips he must have ordered with his wine. “You want one?” he asks. “They’re totally decadent but worth it.”
“No thanks,” I say. His sudden shift in focus confuses me. “Is there something you’re not saying?”
He sighs, clearly conflicted. “Yes, there’s a bit more, though I hate to lay it on you like this. They told Dad they thought you were holding something back.”
My heart’s jackhammering at this point, propelled by a weird mix of indignation and alarm.
“But what could I have been holding back?” I ask. “It’s not like I saw someone put her—” A thought explodes in my head like a firecracker. “Wait, are you saying they thought I had something to do with her death?”
“God no, I can’t imagine