“It’s okay,” he said. “Yeah . . . I mean, we can get a drink.”
“Are you sure? Thanks. Real y. Thanks a lot.” She felt the disapproval of Sam’s friends as she turned away. She felt it in their silence, in the moment Sam took to reassure them before he fol owed her to the bar. She chose two stools a little away from the other drinkers.
“What can I get you?”
“Uh . . . one of these would be fine,” he said. He held up his beer bottle, which was almost empty. Hannah thought briefly about the fact that he was underage and went ahead and bought the beers anyway.
“So look, Sam. I’m working with the Innocence Project. It’s something I volunteer for, you know? The Project . . . they’re pretty convinced about Dandridge’s innocence.” Hannah held up one hand.
“I’m keeping more of an open mind. I want you to know that I’m not here with any kind of agenda. But my boss, the guy who runs the Project, he’s convinced that Dandridge didn’t kil your mom. That it was someone else. And he has some questions about the photo ID
the police did with you. I guess . . . I was hoping to talk to you, to see if there’s anything you want to say about that.”
The bartender had delivered the beers and taken Hannah’s money, but she lingered nearby, wiping a counter that was already clean, or at least as clean as it was going to get. Hannah caught the barmaid’s eye and she wandered away. But Hannah didn’t miss the fact that when the bartender reached the far end of the bar, she took out her phone and made a cal .
Sam drank from his bottle of beer. In the photographs and chats online he had been al bravado and banter. Here in person he came across as much younger, less sure of himself.
“I don’t know,” he said. “You know the police don’t want me speaking to you guys. Sheriff Pierce says I don’t have to. My grandparents would be pissed if they knew you were here.”
“I’m real y sorry about that,” Hannah said. “And Sheriff Pierce is right. You don’t have to talk to anyone you don’t want to talk to.”
He cast her a sideways look. “You’re not very pushy, are you? I thought you guys would be . . . I don’t know. Pretty rabid about stuff.”
“I care about what happened to your mom. And I want to know the truth. But I genuinely don’t have an agenda beyond that. Look, Sam, I just transferred into Virginia. This case, the Project, everything is al new to me. Maybe if I’d been working for the Project for a year like some of my friends, I’d feel differently. But I haven’t and I don’t.”
“Is he one of your friends?” Sam asked, nodding over her shoulder toward Sean. Hannah turned around. Sean looked back at them, smiled reassuringly.
“Yes,” she said.
“How come he’s not over here talking to me?”
She smiled. “I think we both thought we would have a better chance of you talking to me.”
“Because you’re pretty?” Sam said. He flushed when he said it, but he held his ground.
Hannah made a face. “Maybe. Or maybe it’s just that I’m a girl. I don’t know. It feels awkward now.”
He laughed a little and she felt a bit easier.
“Sam, can I ask you, the photo ID . . . ?”
“Yeah.” He looked down at the bar.
“Is that . . . did you real y see the man who kil ed your mother that night?”
“What do you think?” There was doubt and reserve in his eyes.
She shook her head. “I don’t know. I think, if I was seven and I woke at night, frightened, I’m not sure that I would be . . . I’m not sure I would remember too clearly, even if I did see something. I . . .
it’s every child’s worst nightmare, to wake up to a stranger in the house. And then . . . you found your mom, didn’t you?” Her voice was low, and ful of sympathy. Their heads were closer together now as he leaned in.
“I found her. And you never forget. You never forget that. My grandparents tried to help. I saw a counselor for years, to help me come through it. But it fucks you up, you know?”
“Yes,” she said.
There was a moment of awkward silence.
“The ID,” he said, eventual y.
“Yes?”
“I don’t know if I want to talk about that. The police are very sure that Dandridge is the man who kil ed my mother. They warned me that you guys might try to talk to me. They worked real y hard to get him. Anything I . . . talking to you feels like a betrayal.”