I’m not surprised. It’s different for dads. Nobody judges dads for their kids’ behavior like they do moms. Dads are rewarded just for being around. When Davis took Harper to the grocery store and she freaked out in the checkout lane over not getting candy or a cheap toy, nobody looked at him like he should have her under control or like he was responsible for her misbehavior. People bent over backward to help him all the time. That’s what usually happens with dads. But moms? I can’t count the number of snotty looks I’ve gotten in stores when Harper’s thrown a fit. I’ve never once had someone offer to help me with anything, even in those times when I was clearly struggling and on the verge of bursting into tears. And believe me, there’ve been plenty of those times. So Genevieve’s not alone in worrying about how her kid’s actions will reflect on her.
“Genevieve cares about what people think of her. Maybe more than she does anything else. She knew she was going to be in the limelight over this, which meant her parenting was too. Which sounds better? Your son went for a walk by himself, or your son took off when you weren’t looking?” I pause for dramatic effect. “Or how about this one? You grabbed your son and held him until help arrived, or your son didn’t want you anywhere near him when he was upset? Other people’s opinions are what Genevieve thrives on, and there was no way she was going to say anything that put her mothering in any kind of a bad light. She has to look good in front of the camera, and she prides herself on being a good parent. That’s why she lied.”
There’s silence over the air for a few minutes while we’re each lost in our own thoughts, replaying parts of the interview and formulating our conclusions.
“You make a good point.” Detective Layne finally speaks. “That woman loves the camera, and she wouldn’t want to do anything that might tarnish her pretty perception, but I’m not sure that’s why she lied. I still don’t trust her. She’s hiding something.”
I shake my head even though he can’t see me. “She’s probably hiding something, but I don’t think there’s any sinister reason that she didn’t tell the story exactly as it happened. She just didn’t want to look bad.”
“Maybe.” I can tell he’s not convinced.
“Do you really think there’s a possibility Mason did it?” He wasn’t away from Genevieve for that long. I’m sure she lost it the second she realized he was gone, and even though it might’ve felt like it took forever to find him, it was likely only a few minutes. I have a hard time believing that’s long enough for Mason to somehow stumble upon Annabelle, get into some kind of altercation, and smash her head with a rock.
He takes no time to think about his answer. “You can’t accidently hit your head on both sides. Even if she tripped or someone else was there first and threw her onto the ground, whatever you might be thinking could’ve happened, it doesn’t change the fact that someone still had to bash her in the forehead.”
“Or it really could be exactly as Genevieve says. Someone attacked Annabelle and Mason found her body,” I insist stubbornly. “He’s just a sweet little kid. Did you see the pictures of him in his soccer uniform?” Being inside his home, around his things, and seeing his pictures everywhere made him real to me in a way that he wasn’t before. “Violence like that doesn’t seem possible.”
“Except that it is,” Detective Layne says with the jaded authority of someone who knows.
“There were other people out there. Are you checking out the runners’ stories as close as you are hers? What about other runners besides the ones that found them? The place is remote, but it’s not empty.” I brace myself for his response, since he had such a poor one when I challenged him last time.
“Of course we’ve looked into the runners. They weren’t anywhere near that part of the trail where we found her, and they were using a running app, so we were able to see their exact route that day to verify it.” Thankfully, he’s not as annoyed as he was before.
“What about Annabelle’s husband?” Sure, he’s the mayor and firmly cemented in the good ole boys’ club around here, but isn’t the husband always the primary person of interest whenever a wife gets murdered?
“He was out of state at a political convention for that entire week, along with a good portion of his staff.” He lets out a sigh. “Look, Ms. Walker, I don’t want the boy to have done this any more than you do, but we’ve examined all other potential leads, and all signs point to him. I have to rely on the facts even if I don’t like them, and we’ve got some solid evidence against him.”
He’s doing that annoying power trip again. It must be nice to have all the pieces of the puzzle. I try not to be irritated as I ask, “And what evidence is that, besides just being there?”
“Mason’s prints are all over the murder weapon.”
“The murder weapon?” He’s never mentioned anything about a murder weapon before. Am I missing something?
“Yes, that’s what we’re always looking for in any murder—motive and weapon.” He clears his throat. “Investigators gathered the rocks from the scene and tested all of them for prints. There was a large rock next to her head that they assumed was the murder weapon, and Mason’s prints are all over it. His prints are the only ones on it, and according to the forensic report, that rock hasn’t been touched by anyone else but him in years.”
My mind races through possible scenarios for why his hand might have been on the rock. Any alternative explanation that doesn’t end in that poor boy hurting anyone on purpose. “Maybe he moved it off her? He could’ve touched it when he was moving things around. I’m sure he was moving things all over the place when he first discovered her. That would make sense.” I give him room to respond, but he stays silent like what I’ve said is insignificant. “Okay, okay, well, whatever happened, he couldn’t have known what he was doing. He has significant intellectual impairments.” My brain scrambles, trying to come up with something. Anything to explain the boy’s actions. I don’t want him to be guilty any more than Genevieve. I know I’m having countertransference all over the place, but it doesn’t stop the feelings.
“Ms. Walker, with all due respect, even four-year-olds know not to hit people with rocks.”
ELEVEN
GENEVIEVE HILL