Two cops approached, and one said, “We really do need to talk.”

“Give her another minute,” Becky replied.

“How about we question you separately. How about that.” They weren’t questions, and he wasn’t pleasant.

Becky said, “It’s Martinez, right?”

“Detective Martinez.”

“I’m not leaving her, Detective, so give us another minute.”

The cops actually did step back, and Becky used the time to get her head straight. Everything was crooked: the dead man on Chance’s floor, Gibby’s abandoned car. When the cops came back, she said, “You know we had nothing to do with this, right?”

The other cop said, “Of course, sweetheart. We do have questions, though.” He gestured at the bustle around them. “We can go as slowly as you like.”

“We just want to go home.”

“We’ll be quick.” With an understanding nod, he lowered himself to sit on the step below them. “Do you know the man inside?”

“No.”

“You’ve never seen him before?”

“Never.”

“What about you?” He looked at Dana. It took her a moment, but she shook her head. “You girls are in the same class as Gibby and Chance?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Why aren’t you in school?”

“Gibby wasn’t in class.” Becky smoothed away a single tear. “I was worried.”

“Kids do skip school. Is there any particular reason today was worrisome?”

There was no right way to answer that question. How much could Becky say? How much would Gibby want her to share? “I was worried.” She kept it vague. “He’s a good student. He doesn’t skip school without good reason.”

“So this is unusual behavior for him?”

“Or he had some good reason.”

“Did he have one?” Martinez asked. “A good reason?”

“I don’t know.”

The nice cop waited a moment, and then tried a different angle. “Is there anything else unusual in your friend’s life? Has Gibby been acting strangely? Has he spoken to you about anything odd that may have happened?”

“Just that his brother’s in prison. You know.”

Martinez said, “Ask her about the car.”

“Ignore my partner,” the nice cop said. “He tends to interrupt. How about you walk us through it in your own words. Tell us what happened. There’s no wrong way to do it. I promise.”

Becky did as he asked. She told them what time they got there, and what happened after she went inside. He wanted details, but the narrative wandered. She had to backtrack; start over. “I know I shouldn’t have gone in someone else’s house without permission, and it’s horrible that Dana fell on the body—crime scene and all, evidence, I mean—but I was screaming, and she was trying to help, and I was just … It was just so…” She smoothed away another tear.

“Take your time, young lady. You’re doing fine.”

“Oh, for God’s sake…”

“Hush, Martinez.”

“Ask about the car.”