“Who is it?”
Gordon studied him, considered the question. “You understand, Will, we are only trying to sort things out here. As far as we know, the boy has done nothing wrong.”
“Who is it?”
“Duane LaBrea.”
“Duane?” I pictured the boy. Thin, lost, vulnerable.
“Did your daughter talk about him? Did they spend time together?”
I searched my memory. I couldn’t even remember seeing them together except that time Duane had driven both Lucy and Rain home. “No. I can’t even recall her mentioning him.”
“So they weren’t involved?”
Involved? “No.”
“Is there a chance they might have been friends and you weren’t aware of it?”
“No. We would have known. Lucy told us everything.”
An expression I couldn’t read crossed Gordon’s face. “Not always,” he said. “It’s normal for kids Lucy’s age to have a few secrets.”
Not Lucy, I thought. Not our Lucy. “Duane told you that Lucy gave it to him?”
“Well, not initially. When we first questioned him, he denied it, but the second time we spoke to him, he admitted he had dropped it in the chapel.” Gordon held out the toy. “So you have no idea why he would have had this?”
I stared at it. “None,” I said flatly, and then a thought occurred to me. “Unless—”
“What?”
“Maybe Lucy gave it to Duane’s sister, Rain, or something. They were friends. That’s the only thing I can think of.” But even as I said this, I realized it didn’t make sense. Why wouldn’t Duane just tell the police that? Why would he say Lucy had given it to him? Why would he lie about having it?
“Well, I guess that’s it.” Gordon rose.
“That’s it?” I got up, a beat behind and let down that the new development had not been more significant.
“For now. Let us know if you or your wife remember anything. I’ll stay in touch.”
“Sure.”
After Gordon left, I picked up the phone to call Sophie but set the handset down before I even began to dial. The coffee and conversation we’d shared at dawn, our lovemaking—for that was what it had been, tender and urgent and deep—all that felt as if it had happened in a dream. I needed some time to think about the information from Gordon. My portfolio was still on the table where I’d set it earlier. I opened it and flipped through the drawings until I came to the rendering of Saint Sebastian, remembering the day Duane had come alone to the studio and agreed to pose. Why me?, he had asked. I see a vulnerability and a strength, I had replied. That’s exactly what Lucy said. That’s what Duane had told him. Exactly what Lucy said. I had let it slip right by, hadn’t paid attention.
It hit me then, something so obvious I wondered why I hadn’t realized the significance of this before. Lucy would never have gone off into those woods with someone she didn’t know. Someone she didn’t know and trust. Never.
CHAPTER FORTY
Duane was off scooping ice cream at the creamery.
Rain crouched at the head of the basement stairs, close enough to eavesdrop on the conversation in the kitchen.
“The police are making a big deal out of nothing,” her mother said.
“It was a mistake for him to have lied to them, Beth.”
“What? Are you taking their side now?”
“Of course not. I’m just saying he shouldn’t have lied to them.”
“It’s ridiculous. So he had Lucy’s Yoda. That’s no crime. The girl gave it to him.”
“But what was he thinking? To lie to the police like that.”
“Oh, for heaven’s sake. Obviously, he didn’t want to get involved. That’s all.”
“I don’t know. Maybe it wouldn’t be such a bad idea to talk to an attorney.”
“That’s your great idea? Get a lawyer? Do you even know how much they charge?”
“Oh, for Christ’s sake, Beth.”
“And it will just make it look like he has something to hide. Duane has nothing to hide, and we shouldn’t run around acting like he does. Like he has some big guilty secret or something. If we get a lawyer for anything it should be to sue the police for harassment.”
Rain shifted her weight on the step. That was her mother. The Queen of D-Ni-Al. That was all she knew about her precious Duane. She slipped down the stairs and crossed to her brother’s room, tried the handle, found it locked. Knowing Duane, he had stashed the key somewhere close by. She slid her fingers along the top of the doorframe. Nothing. So not in an obvious place. But where? Overhead, she heard the scrape of chairs against the kitchen tiles, the creak of the floor, the closing of the back door. Silence. Then her mother calling her name. What had she expected to find in Duane’s room anyway? The answer to his dark secret? She should have forced him to tell her, should have kept at him until he gave in, but they’d only had a minute or two to talk before he left for work.
“You should have heard them, Rainy,” he’d said. “They kept asking me about Lucy and that toy, and I thought about what you had said about them knowing I was lying, and so finally to shut them up I told them the truth, that Lucy had given it to me. I thought that would make them stop, but it didn’t. I swear, they think I had something to do with what happened to Lucy.”
“I don’t understand, Duane. Why would she give her Yoda to you?”
“Cripes, I wish everyone would just forget about the fucking Yoda. I’m sorry I ever saw it.” He yanked off his shirt, pulled a clean one out of a drawer.
Rain stared at his back, so thin she could see his spine, his winglike shoulder blades, and again wondered if he was doing drugs. He seemed a stranger to her. “I mean, it’s not like you were friends or something. Why would she give it to you? Tell me that.”
He avoided her gaze. “I can’t—I can’t tell you, Rainy.”
She narrowed her eyes, considering, combing her memory of anytime she had seen Lucy even having a conversation with Duane. “Okay,” she said. “I’ll trade secrets.” She shoved her hand into the pocket of her shorts and took out the Lucky Strike stone. “Lucy gave me this and I gave her one of mine and we swore to be sisters. Chosen sisters. That was our secret. Now I told you. You tell me what yours is.”
Duane pulled on his clean shirt. “Christ, I’m going to be late for work. I’ll probably get fired.”
“Duane? Come on. Just tell me.” She knew she was begging, sounded like a little girl, but she couldn’t help it.
“I can’t, Rainy. It’s private, okay? Just forget it, will you?”
She stared at the locked door. There were about three thousand places he could have hidden a key. She could spend all day down there and she probably wouldn’t find it, and even if she did, did she think Duane’s private secret was stashed in his room somewhere? It was hopeless.