Blood on My Hands

shake my head. “No.”
    “Did you hear anything that might have made you think someone else was there?”
    “I don’t think so.”
    Bloom and Jenkins glance at each other. The questions go on and on. What did I do when I saw Katherine’s body? Why did I pick up the knife? Why did I run away? Is it true that Katherine and I were supposed to go into peer mediation? Why did I write that article for the school newspaper? Just as Gail predicted, sometimes the questions are reworded and then asked again.
    “If you didn’t do it, why did you run away?” Bloom asks for what must be the third time.
    “I told you, I was scared. Someone took a picture of me with that knife in my hand. After what happened with my brother, I just assumed they’d think I did it.”
    “Okay,” says Chief Jenkins. “Even if that’s true, why continue to hide? Once you’d had a chance to calm down and think about it, why not turn yourself in then?”
    I look at Gail, who nods, indicating I should answer. “Because by then I thought I knew who really did kill Katherine. And I believed the only way I could prove I didn’t do it was by proving she did. But I wouldn’t be able to do that if I turned myself in.”
    The room goes quiet. Jenkins and Bloom look at each other with grave expressions. Neither speaks. Meanwhile, Gail frowns and asks, “Who do you think killed her?”
    I stare at Chief Jenkins, right into his pale hazel eyes, and say, “Your niece, Dakota.”
    Gail blinks with astonishment and sits back in her chair. She also looks questioningly at Chief Jenkins. “No, I’m happy to say that’s not true,” he says.
    “How do you know?” I ask. “I bet you haven’t even considered that possibility.”
    “Whoa!” Gail says, interrupting again, and places her hand on my arm. She gives me a concerned, quizzical look, as if it’s suddenly occurred to her that I may have a few loose screws. She turns to Chief Jenkins. “Sir, I think at this point I need to familiarize myself a little more with this case. Can we continue the questioning tomorrow?”
    The two men share another glance. Bloom nods. Chief Jenkins turns to Gail. “Only if you’re okay with us keeping her in custody.”
    “You heard they caught her?”
    “Uh-huh.”
    “I feel awful. I keep thinking that maybe if I hadn’t asked her to help me …”
    “But she didn’t let on to you, right?”
    “I know. That’s what makes it so hard to believe.”
    “Just don’t blame yourself, okay? You didn’t know.”

Chapter 40
    Thursday 9:35 A.M.
    ONCE AGAIN IN handcuffs, I am driven to a juvenile detention facility and taken through a metal detector and several heavily reinforced doors before being placed in a cell by myself away from the rest of the inmates. Meals are brought on a tray by a silent matron, who waits and watches while I eat, and then takes the tray away.
    My mother arrives with dark bags under her eyes and her hair hanging limp and unbrushed. She looks even more exhausted and worn out than usual.
    In the visiting room, the matron watching us doesn’t stop me from reaching over and taking my mother’s hand, which feels cold and bony. She’s weepy and bewildered and doesn’t understand why the police won’t let me go. All I can do is reassure her. “It’s going to be okay, Mom. I promise. Everything’s going to work out. If they really thought I did it, they would have arrested me, right? They’re just holding on to me to make sure I tell them everything I know.”
    After a while, Mom says that she has to go home and take care of Dad, and that she’ll come back tomorrow if I’m still here. I ask her to bring some clean clothes. In the afternoon I am driven back to the police station and taken to the interrogation room, where I am joined by Gail and the two men. Once again they ask me questions about Katherine, about what I did the night she was killed, and about what had happened between us in the weeks leading up to that night.
    The questioning lasts several hours, and then the camera is turned off. The men leave and Gail and I are alone.
    “How much longer are they going to keep asking the same questions?” I ask.
    “Until they decide whether you’re telling the truth,” Gail explains. “Since yesterday, I’ve been able to learn a little more about the case, and I have to tell you honestly, Callie, it’s a very difficult situation. They have a lot of evidence against you.”
    I feel my spirits sink. It sounds like she’s