“Where are they?”
“Bob Hurst is interrogating them now, in room one. There’s a two-way mirror, if you want to watch.”
“Let’s go.” Holly followed Wallace down a corridor and into a small room. Two bedraggled kids in their late teens or early twenties sat at a table in the adjoining room. Bob Hurst sat opposite them, and a policewoman stood in a corner and watched.
“It’s S.O.P. to have a woman present when a woman is being interrogated,” Wallace said.
“I know. How long has the questioning been going on?”
“Since midnight.”
“Has somebody read them their rights?”
“Yes, at the very beginning. They’ve signed off on that.”
“Have they asked for a lawyer?”
“I suppose not, or they’d have one.”
“Okay, let’s listen.”
The voices came through clearly over a small speaker:
“All right, let’s go over this again,” Hurst said.
“I told you what happened,” the young man said.
“Tell me again; I want to be sure I understand. What was your van doing parked beside the road late the night before last?”
“We had been to a movie, and we had a flat, right before we got back to our camp. I changed the tire and drove on home.”
“What time did you have the flat?”
“Between ten-thirty and ten forty-five.”
“And what time did you drive on?”
“It took me fifteen or twenty minutes to change the tire, so I guess between ten forty-five and eleven o’clock.”
“Where did you go to the movies?”
“At the multiplex on the mainland.”
“What movie did you see?”
“Air Force One, with Harrison Ford.”
“What time was the movie over?”
“Around ten o’clock, maybe a little after.”
“And why did it take you forty-five minutes to make the fifteen-minute drive back to your camp?”
“We stopped at McDonald’s and got some fries and a Coke. I told you that already.”
“And how did you come to have the Beretta in your possession?” Hurst asked.
“I told you, our dog found it.”