Free About That Night by Norah McClintock Page B

with incredulity. “You must be kidding! Who would murder a kid like that?”
    â€œHow do you mean?” Diehl asks.
    â€œWell, I mean, he was a nice boy. Never any trouble that I could see. He was staying at our house while his parents were away and was never a bit of trouble…you know, for a teenage boy staying at his girlfriend’s house, if you know what I mean.”
    Jordie feels herself blush.
    â€œI can’t imagine who would kill that boy,” Mr. Cross finishes.
    â€œThat’s what we aim to find out,” Diehl says.
    â€œHow did he die?” Jordie chooses her words carefully, but even so, her voice catches on the last word. Even though she saw his lumpish form on the stretcher, she still can’t believe that’s what it’s come down to. Someone killed Derek.
    â€œBlunt force trauma,” Diehl says.
    â€œA blow to the head,” Tritt explains. “We’re waiting on the postmortem to find out if he died immediately or if he was left out there in the cold and the snow to die.”
    Jordie’s heart seizes up. Someone hit Derek on the head and left him to die in the cold and dark and snow.
    â€œSo, given that you knew him well and that he was staying with you the day before he went missing, we need to talk to you,” Diehl says. “But first there are some details I have to get out of the way.” He tells her that because she is only sixteen, a minor, she has certain rights, such as the right not to talk to the police if she doesn’t want to.
    â€œOf course she wants to,” her father says. “Don’t you, Jordie?”
    Jordie nods.
    Also that she has the right to have a parent or some other adult present while she talks to the police.
    â€œDone,” her father says.
    That she’s not under arrest, that she’s free to leave at any time, but that anything she says can be used in a subsequent court proceeding.
    â€œWhat is it you want to ask her?” her father asks.
    Diehl ignores him. “You understand these rights, Jordie?”
    â€œYes.”
    He opens the file folder, slides a paper across the table to her and tells her to initial where he has puts X s and to sign at the bottom of the page. She skims the paper as she initials the boxes; it says exactly what he has already told her, and her initials and signature show that she understands and agrees.
    â€œDerek’s parents say that Derek didn’t go with them to see his grandmother last weekend,” Diehl says. “Instead, he stayed behind to be with you. Is that right?”
    â€œYou already know he did,” Mr. Cross says. “You just said so yourself.”
    Diehl shoots a look of annoyance at Jordie’s father. “I was talking to Jordie.”
    Mr. Cross bridles, but he doesn’t speak.
    â€œHow long did Derek stay at your house, Jordie?” Diehl asks.
    â€œAll weekend. From Friday when his parents left until Monday morning. Or Sunday night. I’m not sure.”
    â€œWas anyone else there?”
    Another odd question. Her dad has already said that Derek was no trouble, making it clear that at least he was there with them.
    â€œMy parents. And my sister.”
    â€œWere you all there the whole time?”
    â€œWell, no. I mean, we were all there for supper on Friday. And then Carly—my sister—and Derek and I watched a movie downstairs. On Saturday, Derek and I went to the mall. I don’t know what everyone else was doing. We went out for pizza and brought back some movies to watch. My parents were out.”
    â€œWe were at the curling club,” Mr. Cross says.
    â€œAnd Carly was at a friend’s house. She slept over.”
    â€œSo it was just you and Derek at your house?” He’s peering at her as if the answer she gives to this question means something, that it will reveal something about her or her trustworthiness.
    â€œYes,” she says. She glances at her dad. “We