Something in the Way (Something in the Way 1)

“But—”

“Did Hannah hear you come in? Any of the girls?”

“No. Yes—Hannah. But I told her I was in the bathroom.”

“Last night, after the party, you went straight to your cabin and fell asleep. Then you woke up this morning. If you feel the urge to tell the truth, don’t do it without talking to me first.”

“But why?” I begged. “Why would someone ask me where I was?”

“They won’t. I won’t let them. Your only job is to protect yourself. Mine is to protect us both. Now, go get your sister for me.”

I reeled back as if I’d been slapped, face tingling. “My sister?”

“Send her here alone. Quick. I don’t have a lot of time.”

“No. You can’t just tell me that and send me away. Where are you going?”

“They’re taking me to the station. It’s nothing, Lake, but if you open your mouth, it could become something. Understand?”

He wasn’t in trouble. I had to trust in that. But he was right—no matter that nothing had happened last night, we were the only two who knew that for sure. I couldn’t think of a coherent response so I just nodded.

“Go,” he said. I wanted something. Anything. A kiss. A hug. I would’ve taken a pat on the back. All I got was a hard stare. “This is adult business,” he said, his jaw ticking. “You’re too young.”

His words were as sharp as knives, and they cut deep. Even after last night, I was still a child to him. Immature. Not to be trusted with important things. I swallowed thickly to keep from crying like the baby he already thought I was. And then I went and got Tiffany.

23

Manning

I sat in an interrogation room at Big Bear’s sheriff station in shorts and a t-shirt. I rarely wore shorts, which was why they were the only clean thing I had left up here. My jeans from last night were in a soggy ball at the bottom of my duffel like buried evidence. I looked like a grown man who’d borrowed a camper’s clothes.

My hands in my lap, I absentmindedly fidgeted with the bracelet Lake had made me. I wasn’t used to having things on my hands or wrists. She played with hers when she was uneasy, but I had no reason to be nervous. From what Gary’d told me, whatever the hell the cops wanted had nothing to do with me. I took comfort in that, but it wasn’t as if I were exactly innocent. And that made me sweat. I’d gotten carried away with Lake in the truck. I still tasted watermelon on my lips. Smelled the dampness of the truck’s cab. Heard the drumbeat of the music. What if they sensed that fear on me?

Two men entered the small room, an older man with a gut that hung over his belt, and a tall thin one in a suit. Neither was the cop from last night, and I wasn’t sure if that was good or bad. He’d turned out to be all right. He’d made me walk in a straight line, and when it was apparent I was sober, we’d talked about my plans to join the force while he’d jumped the truck’s battery.

“Morning, Mr. Sutter,” said the burly man in uniform. “I’m Officer Vermont, and this is my colleague, Detective Krout.”

I shook both their hands. “I’ll be honest,” I said, “I don’t know why I’m here.”

“We’ll get to that,” he said. “Need anything before we start? Water? Coffee?”

“Sure.” What I wanted most was a cigarette. My head hurt all over from lack of sleep and now this. The bracelet felt like no more than a hair on my wrist, but I hadn’t forgotten it was there. This was a special circumstance, though. I’d quit tomorrow. “Any chance of me getting a smoke?”

Vermont laughed as Krout stood at a table against the wall, separating paper cups by a coffee urn. “This isn’t a TV show, son. But nice try.”

The gray, concrete room, lit by a single lamp, did look a little like a set. Not to mention short-and-fat and tall-and-skinny would’ve made a fine pair for a primetime courtroom comedy. I kept it to myself. I respected the police. They might have the wrong guy, but they were just doing their jobs.

Krout set three waters and coffees on the table. My mouth had gone tacky from my cravings, so I went for water.

“Do you have any guesses?” Krout asked. It was the first thing he’d said.

I swallowed my water in one gulp and set the cup down. “About?”

“Why you’re here.”

“Gary relayed what you told him.” Gary had convinced the cops to wait at the gate for me, their presence upsetting the kids. “There was some kind of robbery last night?”

“A house in town, nice, upstanding folks,” Vermont said. “We just have a few routine questions for you, but it’s our duty to go over your rights.”