Bantree. I know why you’re here. Jean Shire called me earlier. Come in. You must be on tenterhooks thinking how to break it to me.”
I am talking too fast, and he isn’t talking at all. I remember that about him, how quiet he was. It would be easy looking at him—the athletic build and wide-open, fresh-skinned face—to think he’s a dumb jock, just a small-town policeman, but it would be a mistake.
“I can’t believe it,” I say, unable to stop. “I’m always telling the girls to be careful of that path, but Lila was very headstrong. Do you know how it happened?”
“I can’t say, Ms. Henshaw. I’m here to ask you a few questions about Lila—”
“What about Lila?”
We both look up to see Rudy standing on the stairs. He is rumpled and bleary-eyed, his dark curly hair sticking up—is that a leaf sticking to a lock?—still in his jeans and sweatshirt from last night.
“Has something happened to Lila?” Rudy asks, his voice shaky.
“Honey, I think you’d better sit down.” I turn to Kevin. “I was just going upstairs to tell Rudy. Of course he knows Lila from Haywood—”
“What’s happened to Lila?” Rudy demands more loudly. I can hear the edge of panic and fury in his voice. I move close to him, on his good side, between him and Kevin Bantree. I don’t touch him. He doesn’t like to be touched when he’s upset.
“Rudy, Officer Bantree is here with some bad news. Lila was found this morning on the rocks beneath the Point, right where the causeway begins. It looks like she might have fallen. I . . . I’m afraid that she’s dead.”
A muscle on the side of Rudy’s face twitches. I can tell that he’s clenching his jaw to keep himself from crying but another person, who doesn’t know Rudy, would think he looks angry.
“Dead? Lila is dead?”
“Ms. Henshaw . . .” Kevin is behind me. I can smell his peppermint toothpaste and aftershave. “Could you both please sit down and let me ask the questions?” There’s an irritated note in his voice that makes me remember the time he got annoyed during a class discussion of J.D. Salinger’s short story “A Perfect Day for Bananafish.” Why can’t it just be about a day on the beach? he had demanded.
“Of course,” I say, not taking my eyes off Rudy. “We want to help. Don’t we, Rudy? Why don’t we all sit down . . .” I place my hand gingerly on Rudy’s arm and guide him toward the couch. His face is closed, impassive to an outsider. Only I know that he is shutting down, going inside himself.
Kevin Bantree pulls out a side chair and sits. Rudy and I sit facing him, only Rudy turns his head slightly. It makes it look as if he’s turning away, but he’s only trying to favor his good ear.
“Can you both tell me where you were last night?” Kevin asks.
“I was here,” Rudy says. “I came back here because the dorm was too loud.”
“You live at the dorm?” Kevin asks.
Rudy nods and Kevin makes a note. I know what he’s thinking: Why would we pay for room and board when we live ten minutes from campus? It must seem like a ridiculous waste of money. Kevin will be thinking that Rudy is a spoiled rich kid.
“We wanted Rudy to have the full Haywood experience,” I say, then shut my mouth when I realize that I’ve made it sound as if Kevin, who had been a day student, did not get the full Haywood experience.
“Sure,” Kevin says, “but last night you came back here?”
“Yeah, there was a loud party after the play. I texted Mom and asked her to pick me up. I needed to get some sleep.”
“And what time would that have been?”
Rudy shrugs. “Around two-thirty?” He looks at me.
“Three,” I say, and then get out my phone. “Here . . .” I hand the phone to Kevin. Look at how helpful I’m being! We have nothing to hide! “There’s Rudy’s text to me at 3:01 A.M.” I make a face. “It woke me up but you know what it’s like with kids. Do you have kids?”
“What’s SP stand for?” Kevin asks, ignoring my question.
“Student parking,” Rudy says. “It’s the lot behind Duke.”
I’m startled by the lie—and by how quickly Rudy came up with it—but I immediately, unthinkingly, back him up. “That’s right. I picked him up around three-fifteen, and yeah, it was loud. I considered calling Jean. Maybe I should