Made for You
Page 46
Nate walks in behind my father, and Detective Grant follows him. I hear a click, and look back to see that, oddly, my mother has thrown the bolt on the door. I don’t think I’ve ever known her to do that during the day.
“If you let me know what time to come tomorrow, I can get out of the way,” Nate tells my mother in a low voice.
“You need to stay, Nathaniel.” My father is using his no-nonsense voice now, and I’m getting more freaked out by the moment.
Detective Grant must realize it because she interjects, “Let’s all sit down.”
Mom leads the way, and then she immediately slips into her hostess mode. She fusses over me first, and once she’s sure I’m comfortable, she turns to the others and offers to fix refreshments.
“Lizzy,” my father murmurs.
When she looks at him, he suggests, “Why don’t you bring everyone some of that lemonade you fixed earlier.”
She nods and flees to the kitchen, and my father relaxes a little. He catches my eye and says, “She’s not sure what to do.”
“That’s perfectly understandable,” Mrs. Yeung pronounces, and I’m struck by the differences. The General looks likely to attack someone. My father is trying to manage everything, and my mother wants to look after all of us.
“Eva, we have reason to believe that the accident was an attempt on your life,” Detective Grant says baldly. “I’ve discussed the particulars with your parents, but what you need to know is that we will do everything in our power to find the perpetrator and keep you safe.”
“Is this because of Micki?”
“We believe her death was also connected,” the detective answers. Her words confirm my theory, but they don’t actually answer the question I just asked.
When we say nothing, Detective Grants says, “Let’s talk about flowers.”
“Flowers?”
She nods once. “What about in the hospital? What flowers did you get? I remember seeing a bouquet. Who sent it?”
“My parents. They sent orchids.”
She watches me with a concentration that seemed less daunting in our first conversation. “Anyone else?”
“The newspaper, some teachers, a few people from church, people from the winery . . . I didn’t really keep a list of names. After the first few, I just asked the nurses to give them to other people.”
“Did you keep the cards?”
“No. I wasn’t thinking.” I feel guilty, but I just didn’t want the flowers. Quietly, I tell my mother, “I’m sorry. I should’ve kept names, so we could send thank you cards. I was just sick of all the reminders that I was hurt and there were other people that might enjoy them, so I asked the nurses to give them away.”
My mother nods, and the detective continues, “I’ll need you to write down every name you remember.”
“Okay.”
Detective Grant’s gaze settles on all of us in turn as she asks, “What can you tell me about Amy Crowne?”
No one speaks, but both Grace and Nate look at me.
“She didn’t send flowers,” I say warily.
“Did you get along with her?”
I realize from her carefully blank expression and follow-up question that Detective Grant didn’t think Amy sent flowers, which could mean then that the detective thought Amy was somehow involved. I might not like her, but I can’t believe that she could do this.
“She’s not a killer,” I say. “There’s no way she could’ve killed Micki. She didn’t like me, but I don’t think she’d have run over me either.”
I think about the death visions of Grace and Nate. My impression was that the killer was a man. I’m not sure of height or race or anything. The more I think about it, the less sure I am about gender.
My mother walks back into the room with a tray of drinks. She looks calmer now, and I wonder whether it was having a moment to compose herself or having a focus. Either way, I am glad she’s less tense. My father stands and gives her his seat next to the detective. He stays behind her chair, much as Mrs. Yeung does with Grace. Grace and I sit facing the detective. Nate stands with a hand on the back of my chair, so he can look at the detective too.
“Miss Crowne is not a suspect,” Detective Grant tells us. “What is your relationship with her? All of you.” Her attention shifts from me to Grace and Nate now.
Grace says, “We aren’t friends. She spread some . . . stories about Eva earlier this year, and I told her to stop.”
“I think she’s in my fourth-period class,” Nate offers. “I’ve talked to her at parties, but not alone.” He looks at me somewhat awkwardly, and I feel bad that my parents are in the room, especially as he adds, “I’ve never been alone with her.”
“She was promiscuous,” Grace clarifies the unspoken things for the adults. “A lot of guys were alone with her.”
The detective nods. “Eva? What about your relationship with Miss Crowne?”
“She slept with my boyfriend . . . ex-boyfriend. He was with her the night of my accident, so she couldn’t have been involved.” I feel myself blushing. “Robert just told me. His parents don’t know because she’s not, umm, the sort of girl he’d be allowed to date.”
“Do other people know about Robert’s relationship with her?”
I think about it, and I have no real answer. “Maybe Reid and Jamie. Probably Grayson. They’re his closest friends, and they probably would’ve hidden it from me. Amy would have a better idea who knew. Robert said she was angry that he wasn’t going to date her openly.” I look at my mother. “Don’t say anything to the Baucoms. Please?” Then I look back at the detective. “They were fighting about it the night he didn’t show up to get me. That’s where he was when I got hit.”
“If you let me know what time to come tomorrow, I can get out of the way,” Nate tells my mother in a low voice.
“You need to stay, Nathaniel.” My father is using his no-nonsense voice now, and I’m getting more freaked out by the moment.
Detective Grant must realize it because she interjects, “Let’s all sit down.”
Mom leads the way, and then she immediately slips into her hostess mode. She fusses over me first, and once she’s sure I’m comfortable, she turns to the others and offers to fix refreshments.
“Lizzy,” my father murmurs.
When she looks at him, he suggests, “Why don’t you bring everyone some of that lemonade you fixed earlier.”
She nods and flees to the kitchen, and my father relaxes a little. He catches my eye and says, “She’s not sure what to do.”
“That’s perfectly understandable,” Mrs. Yeung pronounces, and I’m struck by the differences. The General looks likely to attack someone. My father is trying to manage everything, and my mother wants to look after all of us.
“Eva, we have reason to believe that the accident was an attempt on your life,” Detective Grant says baldly. “I’ve discussed the particulars with your parents, but what you need to know is that we will do everything in our power to find the perpetrator and keep you safe.”
“Is this because of Micki?”
“We believe her death was also connected,” the detective answers. Her words confirm my theory, but they don’t actually answer the question I just asked.
When we say nothing, Detective Grants says, “Let’s talk about flowers.”
“Flowers?”
She nods once. “What about in the hospital? What flowers did you get? I remember seeing a bouquet. Who sent it?”
“My parents. They sent orchids.”
She watches me with a concentration that seemed less daunting in our first conversation. “Anyone else?”
“The newspaper, some teachers, a few people from church, people from the winery . . . I didn’t really keep a list of names. After the first few, I just asked the nurses to give them to other people.”
“Did you keep the cards?”
“No. I wasn’t thinking.” I feel guilty, but I just didn’t want the flowers. Quietly, I tell my mother, “I’m sorry. I should’ve kept names, so we could send thank you cards. I was just sick of all the reminders that I was hurt and there were other people that might enjoy them, so I asked the nurses to give them away.”
My mother nods, and the detective continues, “I’ll need you to write down every name you remember.”
“Okay.”
Detective Grant’s gaze settles on all of us in turn as she asks, “What can you tell me about Amy Crowne?”
No one speaks, but both Grace and Nate look at me.
“She didn’t send flowers,” I say warily.
“Did you get along with her?”
I realize from her carefully blank expression and follow-up question that Detective Grant didn’t think Amy sent flowers, which could mean then that the detective thought Amy was somehow involved. I might not like her, but I can’t believe that she could do this.
“She’s not a killer,” I say. “There’s no way she could’ve killed Micki. She didn’t like me, but I don’t think she’d have run over me either.”
I think about the death visions of Grace and Nate. My impression was that the killer was a man. I’m not sure of height or race or anything. The more I think about it, the less sure I am about gender.
My mother walks back into the room with a tray of drinks. She looks calmer now, and I wonder whether it was having a moment to compose herself or having a focus. Either way, I am glad she’s less tense. My father stands and gives her his seat next to the detective. He stays behind her chair, much as Mrs. Yeung does with Grace. Grace and I sit facing the detective. Nate stands with a hand on the back of my chair, so he can look at the detective too.
“Miss Crowne is not a suspect,” Detective Grant tells us. “What is your relationship with her? All of you.” Her attention shifts from me to Grace and Nate now.
Grace says, “We aren’t friends. She spread some . . . stories about Eva earlier this year, and I told her to stop.”
“I think she’s in my fourth-period class,” Nate offers. “I’ve talked to her at parties, but not alone.” He looks at me somewhat awkwardly, and I feel bad that my parents are in the room, especially as he adds, “I’ve never been alone with her.”
“She was promiscuous,” Grace clarifies the unspoken things for the adults. “A lot of guys were alone with her.”
The detective nods. “Eva? What about your relationship with Miss Crowne?”
“She slept with my boyfriend . . . ex-boyfriend. He was with her the night of my accident, so she couldn’t have been involved.” I feel myself blushing. “Robert just told me. His parents don’t know because she’s not, umm, the sort of girl he’d be allowed to date.”
“Do other people know about Robert’s relationship with her?”
I think about it, and I have no real answer. “Maybe Reid and Jamie. Probably Grayson. They’re his closest friends, and they probably would’ve hidden it from me. Amy would have a better idea who knew. Robert said she was angry that he wasn’t going to date her openly.” I look at my mother. “Don’t say anything to the Baucoms. Please?” Then I look back at the detective. “They were fighting about it the night he didn’t show up to get me. That’s where he was when I got hit.”
