Free I'm So Sure by Jenny B Jones Page A

in the living room, she wears a confused face. “Do I know you?”
    “Hey, Victoria.” I’m not really sure how to begin. “Um . . .”
    “We’re from Truman High. We work for the paper and wanted to ask you a few questions.” Luke takes her elbow and the two settle onto a worn couch. “There’s been a lot of rumors about the junior class funds being stolen, and we want to make sure you are accurately portrayed in this story and your side is heard.”
    I was going to go with “We work with the FBI, and we need information. Don’t make us haul you downtown.” Whatever.
    Luke opens his mouth to fire off the first question, but I jump in ahead of him. Dude is not going to steal my case here. “Victoria, we’d like you to go back to that day you cashed the check and tell us about that moment from the time the car pulled up until the time it drove away.”
    She twists a piece of brown hair around her finger. “I’ve already told the police all this.”
    I paste on my kindest smile. “Can you tell us what Anna Deason looked like that day? Can you describe the person who presented the check? The driver?”
    Her twirling finger stops. “It’s all pretty foggy in my head now. Thanks for stopping by, but—”
    Luke rests his hand briefly on Victoria’s. “I know you’ve fielded a lot of questions. I can’t imagine how stressful that’s been for you.”
    Victoria’s bottom lip puckers as she nods. “I ate a whole jar of peanut butter yesterday.”
    Hey, nothing wrong with that.
    “Did you get a good look at Anna that afternoon?” Luke drapes an arm over the back of the couch.
    “I—I thought I did.”
    “Was it an African-American girl? Can you say that for sure?”
    I sit with my mute button on while Luke works his magic.
    “Yes, I’m pretty sure. But it’s hard to tell with our cameras. We see the driver’s side clearly, but the passenger side can be kinda dark.”
    A small white dog lumbers into the room and rubs against Luke’s leg.
    “Oh, what a great dog. It’s beautiful.” Luke pets the wheezing mongrel, who sports random bald spots and looks like it’s three barks away from keeling over. “What’s your name?”
    Victoria giggles and picks up her dog. “This is Maggie.”
    “Maggie, you’re pretty cute. How long have you had the dog?”
    I watch Luke turn on the charm and Victoria light up like the Las Vegas strip. I search the floor for a newspaper or magazine. Maybe there’s a crossword or something I could do while these two totally ignore me.
    “I’ve had Maggie since I was in first grade. She doesn’t have a yard here, so she’s mad at me.” More giggling. More petting of the geriatric dog.
    “Had you been planning on moving in with your dad?” Luke asks.
    Victoria’s hand stills on the dog. “Um . . . n–no. I guess not. I mean yeah, sorta.” She sniffs and blinks out a tear. “It just kind of happened. My boyfriend broke up with me, and the bank fired me. I needed to leave town.”
    I try to move in with a question, but Luke holds up his hand. His voice is smooth as jazz. “You wanted to leave town or you had to leave town? Was anyone pressuring you?”
    Victoria stares into Luke’s blue sky eyes. The moment hangs there.
    “I want my TV back! I’m missing CSI !”
    She jerks her head as if waking from a trance. “It’s my dad’s TV night. Thanks for stopping by.”
    Luke stands and puts his hand on Victoria’s back. “If you can think of anything else, please contact me.” He gives her a card. “Sometimes stress does funny things. It’s not uncommon to take a step back from the event and get a clearer picture. If that happens, if there’s something you want to tell us—anything—I’d love to talk to you.”
    In the parking lot, Luke opens my door for me, and I flop my body into the seat and fume.
    “I heard that sigh,” he says, as he buckles.
    “I’d love to talk to you.” I clutch his arm. “Oh, Victoria, I can’t imagine how stressful this