Because that’s what I do. This is my job. And you might be my son as well as a suspect. Oh, God, she wasn’t handling this right. She wasn’t arresting him, wasn’t reading him his rights, wasn’t even treating him as she would another juvenile offender, but she couldn’t stop. “Clara, right? Clara Ramsey goes to your school?”
“Yeah ...” He was wary, still edging toward the door that she’d left ajar. Any second he could bolt! She had to keep him here. Had to work this out. To connect with him.
And arrest him.
“I dunno. Yeah. I guess. I just didn’t know that they were gonna rob the guy, and we, Joey and me, we were supposed to be the lookouts. But I didn’t even know there was a gun until I heard the shots and then ... we ran ... and then it ends up in my backpack.” He shook his head and glanced at the ceiling as if he couldn’t believe his bad luck.
“With your fingerprints on it?”
“I picked it up when I found it in the pocket of the backpack! Wouldn’t you? I mean, I didn’t know how it got there. But I never shot it. I swear! You have to believe me!”
“So who put it there?”
He was still shaking his head. “Dunno.”
“Joey?”
“What? I don’t think so. Nah, he wouldn’t.” He looked at her through the fringe of the hair falling over his forehead and she recognized the fear in those eyes that reminded her so much of Emilio. He was pleading with her, and she believed he was scared out of his mind.
Good.
So was she.
Usually she was calm, a levelheaded cop, aside from the one mistake in San Bernardino, but this, dealing with her own flesh and blood, her son, was new and had her second-guessing herself.
“You have to turn yourself in, you know.”
“What?” He freaked. His expression turned to panic. “No!”
“Of course you do, but I’ll be there. With you. And your mother, Aggie; she and your dad will be there, too. She’s worried sick about you.”
“You don’t even know her.”
“True. But I know she wants you to do the right thing.”
“Which is turn myself in? No way!” He wasn’t buying it.
As a cop, Alvarez believed in the system, trusted that truth and justice would win out, but he, of course, did not.
“Uh-uh. They’ll put this all on me. No one will believe me!”
“I believe you, Gabe.”
“You have to!”
“No, I don’t.” Stay calm. Don’t lose him.
Angry now, Gabe looked as if he was about to turn and run, flee out the door and into the cold, dark night.
“Don’t leave!” she said.
“Why?” he said, and kept backing toward the front door.
“Because we have to work this out. That’s the only way.”
“What’s the only way? Going to jail. No way!” He turned.
“Gabriel! Stop!”