Numb and stupid, he stared at it. Last he remembered, it had been in his hand. When had he put it in his pocket? More importantly—why had he put it in his pocket? Mouth open, eyebrows drawn down he looked out the window, as if the answer were out there. His mind was dumb grey space. An erased blackboard. Blinking and disturbed, he stuffed the penny and the keys in his other pocket.
“Front row seat to the end of the world,” David said, face pressed to his window, looking up and out.
Erik looked out his side. Cops were everywhere, weapons drawn. K-9 units, too—officers going in and out of buildings with their German shepherds. Hearing the distinctive hum of helicopter rotors, Erik tilted his head up the glass to see the aerial surveillance.
More patrol cars in front of the health center, cops patrolling the sidewalk and perimeter. Inside they stood at doors and windows, vigilant eyes constantly sweeping while the regular clinic staff buzzed around. But other people were there, too. Erik didn’t know if they were counselors or social workers or just volunteers, but they were competent and kind and efficient. They ushered the victims in and circled the wagons, pulling close a protective force-field and saying reassuring things. Come sit down. Let me get you a drink. Are you cold? Lie down. How do you feel? You poor thing. It’s all right. Take some deep breaths. Let’s call your parents. I’ll help you.
Detective Khoury sat Erik down by a window. A woman brought him some tea.
“Start from the beginning,” Khoury said.
Erik tried, but it was hard to tell a coherent story. His mind kept dissolving and melding back together, losing the thread. He did better answering when Khoury asked him things.
“When was the last time you saw James?”
“About ten days ago. He left school after a suicide attempt. I saw him the day before.”
“Where?”
“He came over to my house. I live with Will Kaeger. The guy they just took to the hospital with my girlfriend.”
“He came to your house. Was he your friend?”
“He was in my circle of friends, yes. But not like my best pal or anything.”
“How did he seem to you that night?”
“Strung out. Stressed out. Sad. A lot of people were mad at him.”
“Why?”
“Few reasons. Couple weeks before he was high in a rehearsal and he dropped my girlfriend. She twisted up an ankle and broke a finger.”
“Was disciplinary action taken against him?”
“No. Nobody could prove he was on something. I heard he hung with a crowd doing a lot of shit but I have no proof there either.”
“Why else were people mad at him?”
“Well right after the incident he failed. Not failed. I mean, he didn’t make his minimum GPA so he couldn’t dance in the concert. Will took over his role.”
“Will is your roommate?”
“Yes.”
“Were he and James friends?”
“Yeah. And they worked together on some choreography last semester.”
“Any idea why James would want to shoot him?”
Erik licked his lips. “I think James may have had a thing for Will. A lot of people thought that.”
“A thing?” the detective said.
“James is gay. Was gay. He had a thing for Will.”
“Is Will gay?”
“No, he’s straight. That’s his girlfriend over there.”
“So James had a crush on your straight roommate. They were friends to a degree and artistic collaborators as well. That was the extent of the relationship?”
“To my knowledge, yes.”
“Could there have been more?”
“Nothing that I saw.” Which was not a complete lie. He hadn’t ever seen James in Will’s bedroom. He once saw a pair of jeans on the floor and Will in a towel.
“Did you know James owned a gun?”
“No. I know his father and his brothers hunt.”
“You don’t hunt with a Glock.”
“His sister was in the army. Maybe it was hers.”
“Do you know his sister?”
“No, she died. Last February. In Saudi Arabia.”
“I see.”
“But how could it have been her gun, wouldn’t the Army have taken it back?”
“A Glock isn’t Army issue, no. Do you have any idea why he would have wanted to shoot your girlfriend?”
Erik shook his head, his throat tight. “She didn’t do anything to him.”
“Why would he have wanted to shoot you?”