‘We didn’t. See or hear anything. Any of us. We had the radio on, and we just did our project and then went back to the boarders’ wing. And we all left together. In case you were going to ask.’
Spark of defiance in there at the end, chin going up again.
‘And you gave the key back to Miss Arnold.’
‘Yeah. At nine. You can check.’ We would. I didn’t say it.
I took out the photo.
Rebecca’s eyes hit it like magnets. I kept it facing me, did the flip back and forth against a fingertip. Rebecca tried to crane her neck without moving.
I said, ‘On your way here last night, you passed the Secret Place. You passed it again on your way to the toilet and back. And again when you left at the end of the evening. Right?’
That pulled her eyes away from the photo, back to me. Wide eyes, on guard, riffling through wild guesses. ‘Yeah.’
‘Did you stop for a look, any of those times?’
‘No.’
I gave it the scepticals.
‘We were in a hurry. At first we were working on the project, and then I had to get the key back on time. We weren’t thinking about the Secret Place. Why?’ One hand coming out from under her leg, uncurling towards the photo; long thin fingers, she was going to be tall. ‘Is that-’
‘The secrets on there. Any of them yours?’
‘No.’
No beat beforehand, no split-second decision. No lie.
‘Why not? You don’t have secrets? Or you keep them to yourself?’
Rebecca said, ‘I’ve got
Her head had gone up; her voice had filled out all of a sudden, rang through the sunlight to the corners of the room. She was proud.
I said, ‘Do you figure your friends tell you all their secrets, too?’
A beat there; quarter of a second when her lips opened and nothing came out. Then she said, ‘I know everything about them.’
Still that ring in her voice, like joy. A lift to her mouth that was almost a smile.
I felt it change my breathing. Right there, a flash like a signal: the something else I’d been looking for. Burning hotter, throwing off sparks in strange colours.
Not the same thing, Conway had said; not the same as Joanne’s lot. No shit.
I said, ‘And you all keep each other’s secrets. You’d never rat the others out.’
‘No. None of us would. Ever.’
‘So,’ I said, ‘this isn’t yours?’ Photo into Rebecca’s hand.
Breath and a high whimper came out of her. Her mouth was open.
‘Someone put that on the Secret Place yesterday evening. Was it you?’
All of her was sucked into the photo. It took a moment for the question to sink in enough that she said, ‘No.’
Not lying: not enough of her attention was left for it. Another one down.
‘Do you know who did?’
Rebecca hauled herself out of the photo. She said, ‘It wasn’t any of us. Me and my friends.’
‘How do you know?’
‘Because none of us know who killed Chris.’
And she put the photo back into my hand. End of story. She was pulled up straight-backed and head high, looking me in the eye, no blink.
I said, ‘Let’s say you had to guess. Had to, no way out. What would you say?’
‘Guess what? Who did the card, or… Chris?’
‘Both.’
Rebecca gave me the blank teenage shrug that sends parents apeshit.
I said, ‘The way you talk about your friends, it sounds like they mean a lot to you. Am I right?’
‘Yeah. They do.’
‘People are going to know the four of you could have had something to do with this card. Fact. No way round that. If I had friends I cared about, I’d do whatever it took to make sure there wasn’t a killer out there thinking they had info on him. Even if it meant answering questions I didn’t like.’
Rebecca thought about that. Carefully.
She moved her chin at the photo. ‘I think someone just made that up.’
‘You say it wasn’t any of your mates. Which means it had to be Joanne Heffernan or one of her friends. They’re the only other people who were in the building at the right time.’
‘You said it was them. I didn’t. I don’t have a clue.’
‘Would they? Make it up?’
‘Maybe.’
‘Why?’
Shrug. ‘Maybe they were bored. They wanted something to happen. And now here you are.’
Flare to her nostril:
‘And Chris,’ I said. ‘Who do you think did that?’
Rebecca said – no pause – ‘Guys from Colm’s. I think a bunch of them sneaked in here – maybe they were planning some kind of joke, like stealing something or painting something; a few years ago some of them came in one night with spray cans and sprayed a picture all across our playing field.’ Tinge of red running up her cheeks. She wasn’t going to tell us what the picture had been. ‘I think they came in for something like that, but then they had a fight. And…’
Her hands spreading. Setting the image loose, to float away on the air.
I said, ‘Was Chris the kind of guy who would do that? Sneak out of his school, come in here on a prank?’
Some picture unfolded inside Rebecca’s mind, taking her away from us. She watched it. Said, ‘Yeah. He was.’
