“Yes.”
Samuels marks the computer printout. I wonder if that last answer is significant for some reason, although I can’t imagine why it would be. Josh wouldn’t be falsely claiming that he had sex with Charlotte.
“Do you know whether Charlotte has a boyfriend?”
“I thought I was her boyfriend.”
“But you now know that she has another boyfriend?”
“That’s what the police told me.”
“Prior to the police telling you that Charlotte has a boyfriend, did you know that there was another man she was involved with romantically?”
“No.”
He marks the printout again. Josh’s knee keeps bouncing. It’s now as high as it’s been so far.
“Have you ever heard the name Zachary or Zach Rawls?”
“No.”
“Was the last time you saw Charlotte on Monday of this week?”
This time Josh’s slower to answer, as if he’s counting off the days in his head.
“Yes.”
“Was the last time you saw Charlotte yesterday?”
“No.”
“Was the last time you saw Charlotte on Tuesday?”
“No.”
“Was Charlotte having a sexual relationship with a banker?”
Josh looks oddly amused, as if this question strikes him as ludicrous.
“No.”
“Prior to today, did you think Charlotte was having a sexual relationship with anyone besides you?”
“No,” he says, sounding uncertain.
His knee continues to pop up and down. It feels almost like he’s mocking me, as if it’s a wink directed at me to indicate he’s beating the machine.
“He’s lying,” I say to Gabriel. “You can see it.”
“We’ll know for sure in a few minutes,” Gabriel replies.
Samuels grimaces slightly, and I wonder if that’s because the machine confirms what I’m witnessing—that Josh is lying through his teeth.
“Do you know where Charlotte is now?”
“No.”
“Did you and Charlotte break up?”
“No.”
“Have you ever driven a car above the speed limit?”
“Yes.”
“Do you know if Charlotte is alive?”
Josh uses his hand to wipe a trickle of sweat from his forehead. Samuels reaches across the table, pulling Josh’s hand away.
“Please, Mr. Walden, leave your hands on the table.”
“Okay,” Josh says.
“Let me ask that last question again. Do you know if Charlotte is alive?”
“No. I don’t.”
“Was your relationship with Charlotte a violation of university rules?”
“I think so.”
“Have you ever told a lie?”
“Um . . . yes.”
“Did you ever strike Charlotte?”
“Never.”
“Are you aware of anyone who would want to harm Charlotte?”
“No.”
“Is my shirt blue?”
“Yes.”
“Is your shirt blue?”
“No.”
“Thank you, Mr. Walden.”
Samuels unhooks the apparatus from Josh, carefully placing the tubing and the other sensors back in their box. After everything is meticulously put away, Samuels tears the paper off the printer.
My eyes are glued on Josh. He looks relieved to have it over. The knee thumping has stopped. His hands are steady again.
“I’m going to take a few moments to review your answers and the readouts from the machine,” Samuels says. “Then I’m sure that Lieutenant Velasquez will share the results with you.”
Samuels stands to leave and seems surprised when Josh offers him his hand. “Thanks,” Josh says.
“The kid’s like Mount Vesuvius,” Samuels says when he joins us in Gabriel’s office. “All over the place. I couldn’t get a decent reading on anything. I mean, even his answers to the calibration questions indicate deception.”
“Doesn’t that mean he’s lying?” I say. “He certainly looked like he was lying.”
“It could,” Samuels said, “but I can’t certify that the results to any particular question indicated deception because his answer to every question—I mean, even his name—indicated deception. All I can say is that the results are inconclusive. How long has he been here?”
“A few hours,” Gabriel said.
“That could skew the results too. It’s late, he’s obviously tired, he just found out that his girlfriend is missing, and he knows he’s a suspect. He’s also just been told that she wasn’t exclusively his girlfriend. Who wouldn’t be anxious under those conditions?”
My heart sinks. All of this seems to have been a colossal waste of time.
“Can we try again tomorrow?” I ask. “Maybe after he’s rested it’ll be different.”
“That’s up to the lieutenant,” Samuels says. “But I doubt very much we’re going to get a different result. What a lot of people don’t know is that it’s awfully hard to beat the poly, but much less so to make it useless. Mr. Walden has done the latter with great expertise.”
CHAPTER SEVEN
“I know this sounds stupid, Clare, but I’d really like to go to a movie with you. Or just out to dinner.”
It does sound stupid, and yet the worst part of all is how far off the mark Jason is about why it’s so preposterous. He actually thinks that we can be one of those couples holding hands at the movies or sitting side by side drinking sangria at some outdoor café.
We’re at his place, which looks like every boy’s dorm room I’ve ever been in. It’s barely large enough to fit his futon, which is pushed up against one wall. A fifty-inch television is the only thing hanging on any of the walls.
“It’s not stupid, Jason. It’s sweet,” I say. “But you know why we can’t do that. Not this semester, at least. Next year will be different.”
He looks at me with stars in his eyes. “I love you so much, Clare.”
Jason is a junior and just turned twenty-one. He reminds me of the boys I knew in high school. Insecure, unsure of what to do next, uncertain about who they are. Yet it’s the very fact that he’s so unformed that draws me to him. He has no hidden agenda and plays no games. I truly believe that all he desires in life is to be with me.
We decide to watch a movie. He picks a romantic comedy, which doesn’t surprise me in the least. When the closing credits roll, I kiss him. More often than not, it falls to me to make the first move to initiate sex.
Jason told me that he had two sexual partners before me. His first was a virgin too, and so it was one of those blind-leading-the-blind situations. He said his second had some experience, but the relationship didn’t last long enough for him to profit from it.
I’ve taught Jason the things he has to know. The importance of kissing. How to use his hands. Timing and tempo. He hasn’t mastered any of it yet, but he’s showing steady improvement.
Tonight I can tell that he’s not going to last very long. His hands are actually trembling as they touch my breasts. I decide that rather than have this end badly, I’ll move things along more quickly.
“Don’t,” he says, as I move slowly down his hairless torso.