Everyone Here Is Lying(40)

“The police are here,” she says breathlessly. “You have to come. I can’t handle this by myself.” She sounds like she’s barely keeping it together.

“Wait, why? What are they doing there?” His heart pounds as he thinks of his son. Of him sitting on the living-room sofa in the middle of last night after returning from the police station, denying that he had anything to do with Avery Wooler. But there was some small part of Al that was afraid. It’s like he’s living the nightmare of the drugs all over again. The fear, the confusion. He’s afraid that he doesn’t really know his son at all. Doesn’t trust him. Doesn’t believe him. He knows his wife is a liar, that she has deceived him. And he knows his own thoughts run awfully dark at times lately—thoughts he wouldn’t share with anyone. Perhaps Ryan has fooled them all.

“They have a search warrant,” Nora says.

He collapses into his chair, as if he’s had the wind knocked out of him. He seems to be having trouble breathing. They must have found the witness then. They must know who it is. Who would say this about their son if it wasn’t true? Why would anyone make that up? What if it’s true and Ryan took that missing girl in his car somewhere and did something to her, and then didn’t want her to tell anybody and panicked? And then—and then he’d deny it, of course he would. He’d cover it up. He’d pretend it hadn’t happened, like he did with the drugs, he’d deny it until he couldn’t deny it anymore—

“Are you coming?” his wife says into the phone.

“Yes. I’ll be right there.” He’s surprised at how calm he sounds.

On the drive home his mind is a seesaw—he tries to think of anyone who might want to harm his son with a lie like this. His drug buddies? But that doesn’t make sense, because Ryan didn’t name anyone, didn’t say who he got the drugs from. Maybe someone wants to hurt not Ryan, but him. Or his wife. What better way to hurt someone than to suggest that their child is a pervert and a killer? But Al has no enemies, and neither does his wife. The idea is ridiculous. They are just normal, average people; they don’t make enemies. He would like to know who it is. He would like to know who claims they saw his son take Avery Wooler.

When he arrives, his alarm increases. There’s a pack of journalists outside his house, who swarm his car in the driveway when they realize who he is. He flees inside, his hands covering his face as the cameras flash. When he gets inside, his wife and son are in the living room, and he’s confronted by the two detectives who’d been in his house late the night before. Bledsoe and Gully.

Bledsoe says, “We’d like to ask all of you to come down to the station to answer a few questions, if that’s all right.”

His wife regards him with fear in her eyes. But it’s the expression on Ryan’s face that hits him hardest. Ryan looks absolutely terrified.



* * *



? ? ?

William Wooler is closeted in his hotel room late in the afternoon. He’s sitting on the bed with his new cell phone, following the news feeds. Because the police had taken his cell phone—and his laptop—he’d had to slip into a local store this morning after calling Nora to get a new one. Now, in disbelief, he watches footage of his wife—looking like a madwoman—storming her way into the Blanchards’ house. There was some kind of altercation inside. This is his fault. He shouldn’t have told her about the anonymous witness saying they saw Avery get into Ryan’s car. This is what he has wrought. His wife has lost her mind.

But it doesn’t matter now whether he told her. Because he has the TV on and there’s a reporter standing in front of the Blanchards’ house explaining that the police are exercising a search warrant.

She says, “Police have revealed that an anonymous witness, whom they deem to be credible, claims to have seen the missing girl get into Ryan Blanchard’s car at approximately four thirty on the afternoon of her disappearance.”

It must be true then, he thinks—someone really must have seen Avery get into Ryan’s car. William leans back against the pillows, suddenly breathless. How is it possible that Nora’s son might have taken his daughter?





Twenty-five


Gully and Bledsoe have separated the members of the Blanchard family. Each is in a separate room, waiting to be interviewed. They are taking up all three interview rooms; it’s not a large police station. The mother has arranged for their young daughter to be picked up by the parent of a friend. Ryan has his lawyer, Oliver Fuller, with him, and they are closeted together privately for now. In the meantime, Gully and Bledsoe will speak to the parents. Ryan’s car has been transported to the forensics lab.

They begin with the mother, Nora Blanchard. She’s distraught, understandably, and Bledsoe tries to put her at ease. “I know this is hard,” he begins.

She stares at him as if he has no idea how hard this is. Gully’s with her on this one—Bledsoe doesn’t even have kids. He can’t possibly imagine what she’s going through.

“We want to ask you again about the whereabouts of your son that day.”

“I told you,” she answers. “He was at home. His shift had been canceled. We were both in the house until I left to run some errands sometime around two o’clock.”

“Where did you go?” Bledsoe asks.