by Chaz McGee
Bitch. That boy is my son.
‘I don’t know what you think he’s done,’ Michael said. ‘But Adam would never hurt anyone else. He takes care of people. He takes care of his grandmother and he’s always looking after me. He knows what it’s like to . . .’ Michael stopped, not wanting to betray any confidences.
‘Sometimes people are much different than how they seem around you,’ Maggie said.
Michael was having none of it. ‘Not Adam,’ Michael answered firmly. ‘Adam hates all that stuff. He hates guns, he hates violence. He won’t even play video games with shooting in them. His mother shot herself. That’s why he hates guns so much.’
‘But we have his computer,’ Maggie explained, her voice filled with what I could only hope was genuine sympathy. Calvano started to barge in the door and Maggie waved him out again. ‘There are some pretty hardcore sites listed on its browsing history. We’re talking snuff films, soldiers of fortune type stuff. You must have known he was into all that stuff.’
‘You’re wrong,’ Michael said stubbornly. ‘Adam is not like that. He wants to be a writer one day. Just ask our teacher, Mr Phillips. He says Adam has a voice and the talent to share it. All Adam cares about is reading books and writing in his journal and getting out of that house one day. He’s applied for a scholarship to a prep school and Mr Phillips thinks he can get in.’ Michael’s voice broke as he fought back tears.
‘Sometimes we don’t know our friends as well as we think,’ Maggie said gently.
‘I know Adam,’ Michael insisted defiantly. ‘Adam would never do this.’
‘Why would his father lie?’ Maggie asked. ‘He says Adam stays up all night playing violent games on the computer, that he’s always writing in his notebook about his plans to blow up the school. And you saw what we found in his locker.’
‘I don’t know why he’d lie,’ Michael said, then added a flash of insight. ‘But he hates Adam because he knows he’s not going to end up being a big loser like he is.’
‘Two people called in tips to our hotline,’ Maggie explained. ‘They both said that Adam killed Darcy and was going to start shooting at school today because he didn’t care what happened to him any more.’
‘That’s crazy,’ Michael said. ‘That doesn’t make any sense at all. It’s just not possible. Those people who called were lying. It’s probably the people who really did kill Darcy.’
I thought my kid had made a good point. Maggie didn’t act like she agreed.
‘One caller was a man and the other was a woman,’ Maggie said. ‘Do you know who it might have been?’
Michael shook his head helplessly.
‘Some people think Adam was dealing drugs,’ Maggie said. ‘That he was getting them from the orderly at Holloway who got killed, and that maybe the psychiatrist who was killed found out about it. You can see how it all connects, can’t you?’
‘Adam does not do drugs,’ Michael said fiercely. ‘He doesn’t do drugs and he doesn’t sell them. If you could hear what he says about the kids who do, you would know I was telling the truth.’
‘How do you explain the guns in Adam’s locker?’ Maggie asked.
‘I don’t know. Maybe someone put them there.’ Michael looked around the room frantically, as if the answer was waiting for him in a corner. A thought occurred to him. ‘Adam never goes to his locker until lunchtime. Everyone knows that. Anyone who knows his schedule could’ve put the guns in his locker during the night.’
‘What about your locker?’ Maggie asked. ‘What are we going to find if we open up your locker? Because if you’re involved in any way, now’s the time to tell me, Michael. I can’t help you unless you tell me the truth.’
‘What’s going on in here?’
Connie’s voice cut through their rapport like a buzz saw. She stood in the doorway and stared at Maggie with fire in her eyes. Even Maggie – my bulletproof, Teflon-coated, unbelievably confident and infinitely capable Maggie – shrank from that look.
What a warrior Connie was. She was magnificent.
Maggie took a moment to regain her composure. ‘Sit down, Connie,’ she said, gesturing to the chair next to Michael.
‘Oh, you can call me Mrs Fahey,’ Connie said. She sat next to Michael, drawing him close, needing to physically protect him.
Calvano had followed Connie sheepishly into the room, holding a can of soda. Maggie sent her own fiery glance his way. It had been his job to warn her Connie was near.
‘OK, then,’ Maggie agreed. ‘Michael was just telling me what a good person Adam is.’ She leaned toward Michael. ‘What if I were to tell you that I believe you about Adam?’
Connie looked suspicious and Calvano was visibly startled.
‘If I were to convince you that I believe you, that your friend Adam is innocent, would you talk to us a little bit more about his life? About back when Darcy Swan was his girlfriend?’ Maggie asked.
Connie looked even more suspicious at this turn in the questioning, but before she could say anything, Michael spoke up. ‘Why does that matter now?’ he asked. ‘It was like, I don’t know, a whole year ago or something.’
‘I want to know why Darcy Swan broke up with Adam,’ Maggie said, then immediately corrected herself. ‘I want to know why you think they broke up.’
Michael shifted uncomfortably, but Connie, who had never been a fool – with the sole exception of the day she married me – understood what Maggie was getting to. ‘Answer her,’ she ordered our son.
Michael looked up at his mother, unwilling to speak.
‘Christopher Michael Fahey,’ she warned him. ‘Tell the detective what you think happened. Because, at this point, I want to know myself.’
Michael looked miserable and ashamed, though none of this was his fault. ‘I think she was creeped out by Adam’s father,’ he mumbled. ‘Darcy tried to tell Adam that his dad made her uncomfortable, that he was always looking at her or making comments. But Adam doesn’t think that way, you know? He didn’t even know what she was talking about. He respected Darcy. I don’t think he realized how other guys saw her. She was pretty hot, but I don’t mean that in a disrespectful way.’ He looked at his mother nervously. It had not been that long since she had stopped slapping him up side of the head as a way to correct his adolescent boy attitude.
‘It’s OK,’ Connie assured him. She exchanged a glance with Maggie. ‘Did she talk about anything specific happening?’
Michael shifted uncomfortably.
‘Tell her,’ Connie ordered him.
‘There was this one time when she said something about Adam’s dad grabbing her when she got there before Adam was home from school. She left and Adam got mad at her for not showing up. She was just trying to explain that she had been there but had to leave and why.’
‘Why didn’t she tell her mother what was going on?’ Maggie asked. ‘Or did she?’
Michael sounded angry when he answered. ‘Darcy’s mother wouldn’t have cared. She thought men making creepy comments was a good thing. I’ve even seen her flirt with Adam’s father, which shows you how desperate she was for a boyfriend.’
Connie looked disgusted at the thought of anyone flirting with Eugene Mullins. So did Calvano.
‘Do you think her mother could have had anything to do with her death?’ Maggie asked.
Michael looked confused. ‘No,’ he stammered. ‘I mean, she was really selfish and she drank too much, but I don’t think she’d ever have hurt Darcy.’ He looked up at his mother, not wanting to believe that such a thing was even possible. ‘Besides, she depended on Darcy for money. She’d want that money to keep coming in, right?’
‘You can’t really think that,’ Connie said to Maggie. ‘Please tell me you’re not serious.’
Calvano had said nothing so far, but he looked as if he agreed with Connie on this one.
‘I don’t know what to think,’ Maggie admitted. ‘I’ve been trying to get in touch with her for the past four days and she’s not returning my
phone calls.’
The room was silent, some wondering if something had happened to Belinda Swan and others telling themselves that she was holed up in a hotel room in New York City getting ready to be interviewed on some morning television show.
Michael shifted uncomfortably in his chair and I was not the only one who noticed. He opened his mouth, as if he were going to say something, then abruptly shut it again. Connie saw it all.
‘Christopher Michael Fahey,’ she said in a deadly voice, ‘you better tell the detectives right now what you were about to say.’
‘Mom,’ Michael said as he glared at his mother. ‘I wasn’t going to say anything.’
‘Don’t you dare lie to me,’ Connie said. She moved her chair closer to Michael and I thought, for just an instant, that she might actually slap him. ‘That girl is dead and if you know anything that can help them, anything at all, you tell the detectives what it is right now. Or so help me God . . .’ Her voice trailed off and she left the threat hanging in the air.
No one in the family had ever been able to figure out what she meant by ‘so help me God . . .’ but then no one had been able to risk finding out, either. Michael was no exception.
‘I don’t want you to think bad things about her,’ Michael said quietly.
‘About who?’ Maggie asked. ‘About Darcy?’
Michael nodded miserably.
Maggie’s voice was kind. ‘Michael, there is nothing that Darcy could have done that would make me think badly of her. Whatever she did, she didn’t deserve what happened to her and I would never, ever think that.’
Connie was not in the mood to coddle Michael. ‘Just spit it out, Christopher Michael Fahey,’ she ordered him.
‘Darcy really needed money,’ Michael mumbled. ‘She was having to give her mother money for rent all the time, so she wasn’t saving enough to get out of town like she wanted to. The tips from the diner were pretty bad, so she was thinking about becoming a dancer.’
‘What kind of dancer?’ Connie asked, beating Maggie to the punch.
‘An exotic dancer,’ Michael whispered, ashamed. ‘There was this new club that opened up out on the highway and Darcy heard that the girls were making something like six hundred a night in tips just for dancing. She wasn’t going to strip or give lap dances or anything like that.’
Oh, the innocence of youth.
‘Who knew about that?’ Maggie asked. ‘Did her mother know? Did Adam know?’
Michael looked both stricken and a little proud. ‘I was the only one she told,’ he said. ‘I used to call her and we would talk on the phone. She said she needed someone to talk to and she didn’t want to lead Adam on, so she couldn’t call him. She said I was her friend.’
‘What exactly did she tell you about her plans for dancing?’ Maggie asked.
‘She said she was going to go out and talk to the owner of the club, and if it all worked out that she would be able to leave here and start over someplace else by summer. That she would only need to do it for a little while and she’d have enough to leave.’
‘Are you sure Adam didn’t know about this?’ Maggie asked him.
Michael nodded. ‘Adam had this picture of Darcy as the perfect person. He put her on one of those things, you know—’
‘A pedestal?’ Calvano interrupted.
‘Yeah, one of those,’ Michael said. ‘Darcy said it drove her crazy, that she felt like she always had to be perfect around Adam. He had built this imaginary world around himself where she was like a princess, and his father wasn’t a mean old drunk and there were puppies and flowers and stuff like that everywhere. She said she couldn’t bear to burst his bubble, so she didn’t tell him about stuff like that.’
‘But she told you?’ Connie asked grimly. With a mother’s instinct, she had figured the same two things I had: one, that Michael had loved Darcy Swan as much as a fourteen-year-old boy can love anyone; and two, Darcy had somehow known that Michael was the kind of person a damsel in distress could turn to. I wasn’t sure that signified much for his future love life. Connie was living proof that being a rescuer took its toll.
‘She trusted me,’ Michael said. ‘She knew I wouldn’t tell anyone.’
‘How did she find out about the dancing job?’ Maggie asked. ‘Did she tell you that?’
‘I think she said someone who came into the diner told her.’
‘But no name for this person?’ Maggie asked.
Michael shook his head.
‘What’s this all about?’ Connie asked Maggie. ‘You can’t really think that Adam had anything to do with Darcy’s death?’
‘He is still one of the few people to link Darcy to Holloway,’ Maggie explained. ‘It’s hard to get beyond that. I’m convinced Darcy’s murder is linked to what is happening at Holloway and Adam is her only link.’
‘That’s not true,’ Connie said. ‘What about Adam’s father?’
‘What about Adam’s father?’ Maggie and Calvano asked her simultaneously.
‘He works at Holloway,’ Connie said. ‘Trust me, I know. I made a point of avoiding him every time I went there to see Michael.’
Maggie stared at Calvano pointedly.
‘He wasn’t on the list of employees,’ Calvano said. ‘I would have noticed his name.’
‘He’s not an employee,’ Connie explained. ‘He owns his own plumbing business. He’s been working there for about six months now, I think.’
‘It’s true,’ Michael said, backing up his mother. ‘That’s how Adam was able to get a ride home at night after seeing me. His father was getting off work.’
Maggie was staring at Calvano again.
‘There are a lot of people on the list of contractors,’ Calvano said, defending himself. ‘And Gonzalez pulled all of my help on it because he thinks we have our suspect. I was trying to get through the list as fast as I could.’
‘Oh, God,’ Maggie said, as if to herself. ‘This changes everything.’
‘So? Go arrest him,’ Connie said, always the practical one. ‘Trust me, no one will be surprised to see that man behind bars.’
‘It’s not that easy,’ Maggie said.
‘Why not?’ Connie asked. ‘You heard what Michael said. Adam’s father was hitting on Darcy all the time and she thought he was a creep. You know what that means. You know what his father’s temper is like.’
‘Adam has already been arrested for her murder,’ Maggie explained.
‘That and a whole lot of other things,’ Calvano added.
Connie looked as if someone had ripped her heart out and thrown it on the floor. ‘You’ve already arrested Adam Mullins?’ she asked them in a near whisper. ‘Don’t tell me you arrested him based on anything his father had to say.’
Maggie and Calvano were silent.
Connie was fighting back tears. ‘Are you telling me that you arrested a fifteen-year-old boy who has no one to stand up for him? Are you telling me that Adam is having to go through this all alone, that he is sitting in a cell somewhere all by himself, knowing he is accused of killing the girl he loved and that there is no one in his life left willing to come to his rescue?’ Connie ran out of words. The silence in the room built.
‘When is he being arraigned?’ Connie asked.
Maggie looked at her watch. ‘My guess is right now,’ she said to Connie.
Connie stood. ‘Let’s go, Michael,’ she said. ‘Adam needs us.’
THIRTY-THREE
Adam Mullins was as alone as he had ever been in his young life. He sat on the edge of the metal bench in a holding cell, the only occupant in a room designed for high-risk prisoners. He wore an electric security belt designed to allow the guards to shock him at any point during the transportation and courtroom process, a precaution reserved for those criminals who were considered as close to human monsters as you can get. The kid was dwarfed by the apparatus.
A few yards down the hallway from his cell, Gonzales stood arguing with a trio of other suited men about who would
be taking Adam Mullins to his arraignment. I knew then that the Federals were going to take over, whether Gonzales liked it or not, that Adam Mullins had fallen into the no man’s land of being considered a home-grown terrorist and would be placed under federal jurisdiction. All bets were now off. It was conceivable Adam could disappear within the hour and never be seen or heard from again. It had happened before.
If Adam realized this, he did not show it. He was lost in his own private despair. For fifteen years, Adam had struggled through a life that surely had not lived up to his expectations and had suffered one disappointment after the other. He had endured the blows of an abusive father, the horror of losing his mother and the need to take care of a grandmother dying before his eyes. Through it all, he had retained a poise remarkable for anyone, much less someone his age. But this final indignity, this being locked in a cage with some space-age torture device cinched around his middle, had proved too much for the kid. He was crying without making a sound, the tears flowing down his cheeks to stain his hands. Five years of being kicked in the teeth, without even a mother to console him, had finally claimed its toll. The kid could take it no longer.
I could not leave him there alone. I sat back against the concrete wall in a corner across from him and I asked myself why this kid should be asked to pay such a heavy price in life when people like Otis Parker were given every break.
The jail was noisy and overheated, and the catcalls and jeers of other prisoners rang from cell to cell. Adam heard none of it. Gonzales and the trio of well-suited Feds walked past the cell, looking in curiously at him, and Adam did not even notice.
They would be coming for him soon, I knew. They would not wait long with a case like this. They would move as fast as they could, so that no one had to linger too long to consider what it was they were actually doing. A guard came by in the middle of it, glanced in on him and walked on. No one wanted to witness his despair.
The kid cried in silence until he could cry no more. I wasn’t sure what I could do. I did not think there was anything I could do.