“You know the brothers well,” Detective Wilson prods, resting an elbow on the desk. “We’re hoping you can tell us which one this is.”
“I—” I blink, as if it will erase whatever I just saw on the footage. “I don’t know,” I answer honestly. The brothers’ features are so distinct, and when they were little, they had different body types. But sometime after puberty, they all ended up with a similar lean, muscled build. That’s why they all make decent football players, despite the fact that only Adam has a deep love for the game. Bram is the tallest by a couple of inches, Adam slightly more broad-shouldered. But while these differences may be clear when the boys stand next to one another, I have no idea here.
“The teachers took attendance at the drill,” I say, like the most helpful little witness to have ever sat in this chair.
“Yes, we’ve spoken with their teachers.” Wilson offers acondescending smile. Obviously, the detectives already thought of that.
“Did they tell you if one of the brothers was missing?” I press anyway.
“I’m afraid that’s confidential at this point,” Wilson says.
I can’t read her expression. Either she knows which brother is in the footage—the one who was unaccounted for—and she’s trying to use me for corroboration, or something else is going on. Maybe this footage was recorded after roll was taken. Or maybe more than one brother went missing during attendance. “But,” Wilson adds, “we did hear from a couple of students that the person in the security camera footage might be Bram. Apparently, he was the first student on the scene where Kennedy was found.”
“The first on the scene?” Bram’s words ricochet back to me:I was slow getting back after the drill.
I try to swallow despite my arid throat. Then it hits me. “Bram wasn’t wearing his sweatshirt in the afternoon,” I practically bark. “I saw him, when he brought back the nurse.”
The figure in the surveillance footage couldn’t have been Bram. My body heaves with relief. Whoever told the cops they saw Bram with Kennedy was lying.
I’m not sure what I was expecting. Maybe I thought the detectives would nod and cross Bram’s name off their notepad with a dramatic flick of the wrist. Instead, they exchange another look, this one even more smug and victorious than the last.
My stomach sinks.I’m an idiot.Just because Bram didn’t have his hoodie on after Kennedy’s body was found doesn’t mean he wasn’t the boy in the footage. I haven’t vindicated him; I’ve merely given the cops a concrete piece of evidence to search for. They could track down that sweatshirt, test it for Kennedy’s blood, and have themselves a smoking gun.
Or worse, maybe they already found a blood-covered sweatshirt out in those woods. They could be trying to establish which brother is missing a hoodie.
After a few more questions, which I answer in a fuzzy haze of shame, the detectives let me go, with instructions to call them if I think of anything helpful.
“Like I said before”—Wilson leans in close, even though Chase is the only other person in the room—“everything is confidential, so you can’t tell anyone this. But allthreeAbbott brothers were missing from class when this footage was recorded. And the brothers aren’t talking about where they were. They lawyered up immediately.” She twists her lips. “I find that a little suspicious, don’t you?”
I force a headshake. “It’s only because people in this town say things about—”
“Oh,” she cuts in, “and, again, just between us, there’s already more evidence stacked against them.” She tips her head like she’s offering sympathy, only I know she’s gloating.
I leave the office, my mind plagued with questions. Which Abbott brother would be talking to Kennedy Russo? And if it wasBram, like someone told the cops, should I warn him about his sweatshirt? Or should I let things play out?
And then the most crucial question of all: Could Bram have actually done this?
There’s only one answer blaring through my head as I exit the school.No.Absolutely not.
But if he didn’t do it, does it mean Adam or Henry did?
Dad offered to come back and pick me up after my interview, but I decide not to call him. I could use the lengthy walk home to clear my head.
Once I’m off the main street, where the school, the library, and the post office reside, I turn onto the road that snakes through the crop fields and country homes. It’s lined with maple trees, their leaves the bright oranges and reds of fall. A white picket fence runs on either side, wild sunflowers woven through the slats. Little finches perch atop it until I come along, causing them to flutter off. I pass the white steepled church off to my left and continue on to where the trees grow thicker.
I shake off the detectives’ implications about Bram, attempting to consider his brothers instead. Only I can’t entertain the thought of Henry having anything to do with yesterday’s events either. Even allowing it to cross my mind feels like a betrayal.
But Adam? He’s changed so much since his accident. He’s not the carefree boy or the up-for-anything friend I used to know. The real trouble I’m having is connecting the dots. Adam didn’t talk to Kennedy Russo, and yesterday, he really didn’t seem up for talkingto anyone.
And then he wasn’t in class. The thought sends a slight shiver through me. I assumed he’d gone to the nurse’s office. This should still be the logical conclusion, considering he didn’t head home. I saw him with Henry by the Mustang after school.
According to the detectives, though, Adam didn’t give the nurse’s office as his alibi—an alibi which would’ve easily been corroborated. Instead, Adam refused to talk about where he’d been during that time.
At the sound of an engine, I press closer to the fence, burying my feet in the weeds. A cloud of dust rises, and as it settles, a truck slows beside me. Henry leans over to call my name through the window.
I’m slightly taken aback seeing him in the driver’s seat of his vintage Ford truck instead of the passenger side of the Mustang. His brothers drive him everywhere, so it’s easy to forget he has his own mode of transportation.
“What are you doing?” he asks. His brown hair is combed for once, and he’s wearing a light blue polo.
