“And why is that so important to you?”
“Because Mason did something really bad, and he doesn’t deserve to go to prison for it. He’s a kid, not an adult. He needs help. That’s all. Somebody has to help him.” I bury my face in my hands. Renetta scoots closer, moving her hand from my knee to my shoulder.
“I’m sorry you’re going through this,” she says in her sweet voice. I want to burst right into tears and let her comfort me, but the last woman I did that to turned against me something awful. I hope Casey watches this tonight. I want her to see how bad she’s hurt me and my family. What she’s done to us for nothing.
Renetta reaches for the Kleenex on the table. She grabs the box and hands it to me. I pull a few out, clutching them in my right hand as she speaks. “I know this is incredibly hard, but what did Mason do that’s so bad?”
I dab at my eyes with the Kleenex and straighten up. “Mason did have something to do with Annabelle’s murder. I know I said he didn’t, but I lied, and I hope after everything I just explained that you’ll be able to understand why.”
“Maybe people will be more understanding if you can tell us more about what happened that day,” Renetta urges like she doesn’t already know. I told her everything when I called. Otherwise, she never would’ve rushed over.
I twist the Kleenex in my lap. Sometimes the right thing to do is the hardest thing. Lord help me.
“Mason and I went down to the creek for our morning walk like we always do, and he got away from me while I was collecting dragonflies. I told the police it was only for a second, but the truth is—I have no idea how long he was gone. It could’ve been a minute. It might’ve been ten.” I give the screen a flat stare. Let them judge me all they want. “I panicked when I noticed he was gone. I took off running and screaming, searching for him everywhere. It was awful. All that stopped when I found him . . .”
“What did you find?”
“Annabelle was splayed out all over the rocks underneath the bridge just like I said, and Mason was next to her. Just like those runners said too. She’d already hit her head. She—”
Renetta interrupts, “How do you know she’d already hit her head?”
“Because there was a pool of blood underneath her head, so it was pretty easy to put two and two together.” I smooth my ponytail. “Anyway, like I was saying, she’d already hit her head, and I can’t say anything about how that happened. At first, I thought she’d fallen and hit her head. That Mason had found her or maybe even startled her and she tripped. But then I knew that wasn’t the case. Somebody hurt Annabelle first. That’s why I’ve been so freaked.”
“Over the possibility that someone else hurt Annabelle before y’all got there?”
I nod. “The police set their sights on Mason from the very beginning, and that’s all fine and dandy, but I’m pretty sure someone else was out there and attacked Annabelle.” I put my hands on my chest.
“How can you be so sure?” She leans forward.
“Because of what Mason did to Annabelle. He never would’ve done something like that if he hadn’t seen it done somewhere else. That’s how he learns. By watching other people. The only way he would’ve been able to do something that horrific was if he’d seen it.” My voice slows, losing steam.
“What did Mason do?” She keeps coming back to that question. The one everyone wants to know.
“He hit Annabelle in the head with a rock.”
Horror fills Renetta’s eyes, and they grow wide. For a second, I forget this isn’t the first time she’s heard the news. God, I love TV. “Are you saying that Mason smashed Annabelle’s head with a rock?”
“I am.” I rearrange my shirt, straightening the sleeves. “But what I’m also saying is that he only did that because he was mimicking what he’d seen. What the police never released to the public is that Annabelle had two head injuries from rocks—one in the front and one in the back.”
Renetta gasps. This will make a great clip. Maybe he’s watching too. I hope he is. Sitting right next to Simon somewhere. Nobody pushes me around. Nobody.
“She was hit twice,” I explain in case anyone missed it. “And I admit, Mason is responsible for one of those hits. Is it the one that killed her, or was she already dead? I know it shouldn’t make a difference, and maybe it only does if you’re his mama, but I like to think Annabelle was already dead when he hit her.” I grab my glass of water from the table and take a huge drink. Truth telling has me feeling dehydrated. Or maybe I’m just giddy from the freedom that happens when you’ve got nothing to lose.
“Do the police have any leads on this other man?” She shifts the focus like magic.
“I doubt it. The only person they’ve ever looked at is Mason, no matter what I’ve told them. And I’ll admit I didn’t tell them the full story about everything, but I was really clear about there being somebody else out there. I could totally be wrong”—I give a hand shrug—“but aren’t they at least obligated to look?”
“I tend to agree with you. Police should be examining all the possible leads in any case.” She takes a drink of her water, too, then sets it down next to mine. “Where’s Mason at now?”
“They’ve been trying to get Mason to give a statement about what happened. That’s how it’s been, just pushing and pushing him to talk, which isn’t fair to my baby. He only knows a handful of words. Most of what he says he’s just repeating back something he’s heard. He uses sign language, but it’s signs we’ve used since he was a baby to communicate, not real sign language. Lots of them nobody else would even know. Mostly he draws what he wants. He loves to draw. Anyways.” I straighten my shirt again. Smooth down my skirt. Ankles tucked. “The detectives hired all kinds of different specialists and doctors to work with them on the case, and they brought in one lady, Casey Walker”—I stare straight into the camera as I say her name—“to help them take my son away from me before they ever knew he was guilty of anything.”
“Take your son away from you?” She bats her eyes.
“Yes, take my son away from me.” I clutch the tissue in my hand. “Casey Walker works with families and autism, so she’s supposed to be an expert, but I’d stay as far away from her as possible if I were you. She made a false report to the police that I was abusing my son because she saw bruises on his arms. Social services took him right out of my house, and I haven’t seen him since.” I let the tears fall. I don’t brush them away this time or try to pull them back inside.
“I wish I could do something to help you,” Renetta says, sensing my helplessness and desperation.
I lean closer to her and the monitor over her head. “Here’s the thing—somebody else was out there when Annabelle got killed. It wasn’t just my son, and that person is still out there. We don’t know what they’re capable of doing. They might’ve taken my son away and put all the blame on him, but as long as that other person is out there, nobody’s safe. And they’re not going to stop looking at my son as the responsible party until someone comes forward and gives them information about the real killer. I know y’all are scared, and I’m scared, too, but we can’t let him terrorize us. We just can’t.” I give my most desperate look. “Please, I’m begging you, if you saw anything, heard anything, even if you think it doesn’t matter, even if you think it’s silly and doesn’t mean anything, will you just come forward and tell the police? Please? There’s an anonymous tip line. You don’t even have to give your name. Just tell them what you know. Please. I know there’s someone out there who knows something.”