Free Mad Honey: A Novel by Jodi Picoult, Jennifer Finney Boylan

that often, after the fact, there are follow-up questions. We follow behind him in our own car to the police station again. He leads us back into the same conference room we were in days ago, pours us two glasses of water, sets the same small recording device on the table. “Asher, thanks a lot for coming in,” he says amiably, but Ava Campanello’s accusation tickles the back of my mind. “Now that the crime scene investigators have gone through the house, there are some discrepancies that we hope you can help us clear up.”
    Two words lodge in my throat. “Crime scene?”
    Mike does not even look at me. His eyes remain on Asher’s face. “A healthy young girl died. If we didn’t look thoroughly at what happened, my ass would be on the line.”
    My face feels hot. “Asher told you everything he knows.”
    “Is that true, Asher?” Mike says evenly. “Or would you like to help us?”
    “I just want to know what happened to Lily,” he replies.
    The detective relaxes, and it has a ripple effect. Asher leans back in his chair. Seeing him breathe, I breathe, too.
    Whatever Ava said to me must be born of grief. She lashed outbecause when you hurt someone else, you’re less likely to feel your own pain.
    “We’re trying to put together a timeline,” Mike says. “Can you walk me through your day? What happened from the time you woke up, until the time you ended up at Lily’s house?”
    “I went to school,” Asher says, shrugging. “It was…school.”
    “You said last time you were here that Lily was home sick, so you texted her…?”
    “Yeah. She was out for two days. I texted her, but she didn’t write back.”
    Mike scribbles something on a pad. “Did she tell you that she was staying home sick?”
    Asher flushes. “No. I found out from a friend of ours. Maya.”
    “Maya…”
    “Banerjee.”
    “Why didn’t Lily tell you herself?” Mike asks.
    “I hadn’t talked to her in a few days,” Asher replies. “We were in the middle of a fight.”
    I shift in my chair. Asher and Lily had been fighting? Why hadn’t he told me?
    “What were you fighting about?” the detective asks.
    Asher clears his throat. “Her father,” he says, his gaze darting quickly to me and then away. “She hadn’t spoken to him in a really long time, and I thought she should…”
    Because you don’t talk to your father, I think.
    “…but Lily didn’t want to.”
    I think about the man at the funeral with the dark eyes and the wrinkled suit who had fought with Ava, who had called Asher by name.
    “Was that all you were fighting about?” the detective asks.
    “Yes.”
    He leans forward. “You can tell me, you know, if she was seeing someone else.”
    “What?” Asher is genuinely stunned. “ No .”
    “So you texted her five times that day, and you really needed to see her—”
    “She was sick, ” Asher clarifies. “I was checking on her.”
    “How’d you get into the house?”
    “The door was open. Like, literally.”
    “You didn’t think that was strange?”
    “I didn’t think about it at all,” Asher says. “I knocked and pushed it all the way open and went inside. I called out Lily’s name.”
    “Did Lily answer?”
    “No,” he says, quietly. “She was lying at the bottom of the stairs.”
    I open my mouth, because I can see that Asher is about two seconds away from falling apart, and if Mike walks him through Lily’s death again, that’s exactly what will happen. But to my surprise, Mike glosses right over it.
    “Did you go anywhere else in the house?”
    “No.”
    “You didn’t go upstairs?”
    Asher shakes his head.
    “But you’ve been in her bedroom before.”
    “I. Uh.” His cheeks are flaming.
    “You feel uncomfortable talking about this in front of your mom?” Mike asks. “Listen, Asher. This is going to be a lot easier for you if you just tell me the truth.”
    “I am telling you the truth. I wasn’t in Lily’s bedroom.”
    “Then I guess you don’t know anything