Pulse rocketing, Bobby Ray played dumb. “Who’s Bobby Ray?”
“Bobby Ray Dean, I’ve had my eye on you for a while. I know where you live. I know who your friends are.” He looked at the road ahead. “You’re lucky you weren’t at that party tonight.”
“Is that what you think? I’m lucky?”
“And too stupid to know it.”
If the officer knew about the party, maybe he knew what happened. “Who did the shooting?”
He didn’t get an answer.
Bobby Ray spent the next few days at the juvenile detention center, going through the drill. His caseworker, Ellison Whitcomb, had retired and moved to Florida. The new one, Sam Carter, eventually showed up with Bobby Ray’s file. Carter didn’t have Whitcomb’s cynicism, but he was a realist.
“They’re not going to be lenient this time, Bobby Ray.”
“You’re assuming I’m guilty.”
Sam Carter gave him a wry smile. “You want to sit there and tell me you’re not?”
Furious, Bobby Ray shoved the chair back and paced. “They haven’t got any evidence!”
“They have all they need. This might be a good thing, Bobby Ray.”
“A good thing? Tell me how.”
“It’ll get you out of the Tenderloin.”
“What if I don’t want to go?”
“I doubt you know what you want. Now the court decides.”
Bobby Ray found himself living in temporary lockup with kids older and tougher. He knew how to cover his fear while living in a dormitory with fourteen other roommates. He kept his eyes open and his back to the wall. He barely slept because every sound jarred him awake. He kept his distance, recognizing predators.
A guard brought Bobby Ray to a room furnished with a metal table and two chairs. He expected to see Sam Carter, but a tall, broad-shouldered stranger in a gray suit, blue shirt, and tie stood waiting. He smiled as he extended his hand. “I’m Willard Rush. I’m handling your case.” He had a firm grip. Willard Rush glanced at the guard, and the man went out, closing the door quietly behind him. “Sit down, Bobby Ray. We have some serious talking to do.”
Clasping his hands on the table, Bobby Ray gave Rush what he hoped was a cool look. He figured the judge had reviewed whatever evidence the cops had and decided it wasn’t enough.
“You have a court hearing Thursday next week.”
His stomach turned over. A week? “They didn’t have anything on me.” Rush’s expression changed enough to make Bobby Ray forget his fear and get mad. “You think I’m lying?”
“You had paint on your sleeve that matched the graffiti on eight walls.”
“So what? A little paint doesn’t prove anything. Maybe I accidentally brushed up against something and got it on me.” He leaned forward. “They need more hard evidence than that.”
“They’d need more in the adult world, but you’re a juvenile. The DA’s office took that little bit of paint and ran with it. They’re doing what they think best.”
Sam Carter had said something similar. Bobby Ray’s heart pounded a war beat. “They should be jailing the ones who shot my friends!”
“They’d have to catch them first, and since no one is talking, that will take time.” He tilted his head, studying Bobby Ray. “If I had to guess, I’d say the shooter was after Edoardo Gerena, and your friends just happened to be in the right place at the wrong time.”
“Who’s Edoardo Gerena?”
“The party was in his apartment. You probably know him by his street name, Red Hot. From what I gather, he was in jail. One boy died at the scene.” All the time Rush talked, Bobby Ray felt the man studying him closely. Like a germ under a microscope. “Gerena’s brother died on the way to the hospital.”
The small world Bobby Ray had carved out over the last few months imploded. He tried to sit still and calm, but inside, he roiled in fury and pain.
“I’m just curious, Bobby Ray. Why weren’t you at the party?”
Maybe he should have been there. Maybe he could have done something to save his friends. Maybe he could have gotten shot, too. What difference would it have made? “I had other things to do.”
“Where were you that day?”
“School.”
“After school.”
Bobby Ray pushed his fingers through his hair and held his head. He should have gone to the party. He should have been with his friends. “The library.”