Wilde Lake

“AJ? What do you mean by ‘they made up’?”


“They had sex.” I knew AJ was not looking at our father when he said those words. “They had sex and they came downstairs and we played a drinking game. We played Life and you had to take a drink every time you had a kid. She got wasted, really fast, because she drank vodka and the rest of us were having beer. Bash and Noel drove her home. She threw up inside Bash’s car. He came back to Davey’s house and we helped him clean it up. I also helped Davey clean up the house.”

“What do you mean by clean up?”

He was almost whispering now. “We added water to the vodka so his parents wouldn’t know someone drank a bunch. And we bagged up the beer cans, took them to the Dumpster behind Jack in the Box.” A beat. “I was home on time. I’m sorry I let you think I was going bowling. I thought I was going bowling. It was only when I went to Davey’s house that they told me there was a change in plan.”

“Is there any more to the story?”

“No, sir.”

“Think hard. Is that the whole story?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Fine, because you’re going to tell it to a police detective.”

AJ’s gasp was loud enough that it provided cover for my stifled one.

“Why, sir? I mean, I know I was wrong to drink and that I lied to you about where I was going last night, but are you really going to turn me in to the police? I promise I won’t do it again, I really do. I mean—”

“Juanita Flood was admitted to Howard County General this morning. She has been beaten. And she says that she was raped by Davey Robinson last night.”

“Raped, beaten—no sir!—”

“Don’t speak any further, AJ. A lawyer is going to meet you at headquarters. I have advised Bash’s and Noel’s parents to bring attorneys as well, if possible. But they, at least, can sit in on their sons’ interviews. I have to recuse myself from yours. This is all—this is very complicated. You may go get dressed now.”

“Sir?”

“Yes?”

“Just now, when you talked to me—were you speaking as my father or the state’s attorney?”

AJ had hit on the same question I had, even if I hadn’t been able to articulate it. What was our father’s role in this? What was AJ’s role? Would his story help or hurt Davey? I didn’t know because I wasn’t sure what rape was. Something bad, but how bad?

“I am always your father, AJ. Always. If this goes forward—I’m not sure how it will work. My deputy will be there, monitoring all the interviews. Just tell the truth, tell them what you told me. Don’t lie. Don’t try to outthink this. Tell the truth and everyone will be fine.”

AJ left our father’s room. Quicker than I thought possible, my father entered my room through the hallway. He looked at me thoughtfully. I was sitting on my bed, but it had not occurred to me to pick up a book or make myself look busy. I probably looked as suspicious as any nine-year-old ever had, sitting on her freshly made bed, hands folded in her lap.

“I have to go out, Lu. AJ and I—we have to go out.”

“Okay,” I said, then wanted to kick myself. I should have said “Where?” or asked to accompany them. My ready acquiescence was even more suspicious. But my father didn’t seem to notice.

“I really shouldn’t leave you here alone, but—you’re big enough, I think. You’ll be ten in less than two months.” He seemed to be trying to think of the single most important warning he could give me. “Stay inside, don’t open the door to strangers. Don’t touch the stove.”

“I’ve been making my own hot dogs and soup since I was in second grade,” I reminded him.

“Not today,” he said. “There’s still plenty of leftovers. Eat those if you get hungry.”

“Even pie?” I asked. I always liked to spell out all the terms. “With Reddi-wip and ice cream if I want?”

“Sure.”

He called upstairs to AJ: “What’s taking you so long?”

“Ariel and I were supposed to meet to rehearse our duet for madrigals. I just wanted her to know I couldn’t make it.”

“Well, get a move on.”

I assumed they would be gone for maybe an hour at the most. After all, the conversation in my father’s room had taken very little time. But it would be almost 5 P.M. before they returned.

As soon as they left the house, I climbed the stairs to AJ’s room and looked up the word rape in the dictionary on his desk. It was defined as an assault. I looked up assault, which was defined as an attack. Stymied by the circular nature of these definitions, I headed to our father’s room, where he kept a big, old-fashioned dictionary on a stand. This was a marvelous book, with full-color plates that I loved to study—butterflies, flowers, the internal organs of the human body—but I ignored those today. I had only one thing on my mind: rape.

The act of seizing and carrying off by force. That was the first definition.

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