Faye Kellerman - The Forgotten

“Finking?”

“It’s one thing to catch a student with stolen goods, it’s quite another to have a boy rat another out.”

“The synagogue was a horrible mess,” Decker said. “Pictures of dead Jews were thrown all over the place. He didn’t do it alone. I want names!”

Williams was about to offer some words, but the discussion was cut short. The door opened, and Ernesto tromped in. Still short of breath, he gasped out, “I want to talk to you.”

Decker pointed to his chest. “Are you talking to me, Mr. Golding?”

“Yeah, I’m talking to you … sir.”

“I like the ‘sir’ part,” Decker said. “It shows civility.”

The parents and Melrose materialized. Carter Golding was red-faced and furious. “I am the boy’s father. I demand to know what’s going on!”

“I’m trying to get that done, Dad,” Ernesto said with anger. “Can you just … like lay off for a few moments—”

“You’ve been accused of vandalizing a house of worship, and you want me to lay off ?”

“Carter, I know you’re upset, but please, let’s deal with one issue at a time,” Melrose said.

Ernesto said, “I’ll tell this cop what’s going on, but first you’ve got to guarantee me what you just said … about it being sealed.”

Melrose said, “Ernesto, the man is a police lieutenant. If you want someone to do you favors, start acting appropriately humble.” He looked at Decker. “What can you do?”

“I could probably get his part pled down to malicious mischief, which will require some explaining since it’s a hate crime. But if it turns out he’s jiving me, all bets are off.”

“What is malicious mischief?” Jill asked. “What does it mean?”

“It means it’s a misdemeanor,” Melrose stated flatly. “I’m still not sure this is the best way.”

“Why the change of heart?” Decker asked Ernesto.

“I have my reasons,” the teen answered. “If you want to know about them, give me a guarantee.”

“I’ll do the best I can,” Decker said.

“Not good enough,” Ernesto stated.

Decker stood and took out the cuffs. “Fair enough. You’re under arrest—”

“Wait a damn minute!” Carter broke in. “Ernesto, once this man arrests you, you can’t be unarrested! Are you aware of that?”

Ernesto was quiet.

“It won’t hold up, Carter,” Melrose assured him. “He doesn’t have any rights here.”

“Can you guarantee that?”

No one spoke.

“This is the situation, Ernesto,” Decker said. “You talk, I listen. If I like what I hear, I go to bat for you. If I don’t, you’re no worse off. I’ll still arrest you. But what you told me will be inadmissible because you spoke without a lawyer.”

“No, no, no!” Melrose broke in. “Who said anything about his talking without representation?”

“Counselor, if you’re there, then it’s official. I have to read him his rights. Then, as we all know, I can use his statements in a trial. If you’re not there, I can’t use anything.”

“So what happens if you like what you hear?” Carter wanted to know.

“He writes it all down in a witnessed confession statement. We seal it. Then I take it to the D.A. and probably he’ll plead him down to a simple wrist slap—”

“Probably?”

“Yes, probably. I can’t say for sure. This is the best I can do—”

“I’ll take it,” Ernesto said.

“Ernesto, you’re seventeen. You don’t have the final word. Do you understand that?”

“And you’re fired, Mr. Melrose. Do you understand that?”

“Ernie, what in the world is wrong with you?” Jill screamed. “Apologize!”

“This is precisely why I can’t trust him without representation,” Melrose said.

Ernesto tightened his fists. “This is my life here, Mr. Melrose. Not yours, not my mom’s, not Dad’s … my life .” He looked at Decker. “I can speak for myself.”

Melrose said, “Carter, you can’t let him do this!”

“Yes, he can,” Ernesto said. “My parents raised me with independence. Now they’re going to put their money where their mouths are and trust me to do the right thing!”

And what could the Goldings say to that? Decker couldn’t have scripted it better. He broke in. “Where do you want to talk, Mr. Golding?” A pause. “Is there a vacant classroom somewhere?”

“You can have the faculty lounge annex,” Williams stated.

Ernesto said, “I have a calculus test last period. That’s in an hour. Can we wrap it up by then?”

“That depends on what you have to tell me,” Decker said.

“I’m not gonna miss my test,” Ernesto insisted. “I studied two hours for that sucker.”

“Ernesto, calculus should not be foremost on your mind!” Jill barged in.

“Calculus isn’t foremost on my mind, Ma, only getting an A in calculus. If I don’t get an A in calculus, I can kiss off the Ivies.” To Decker, he said, “You said the records would be sealed?”

“If I like what I hear, I’ll make that recommendation.”

“So I wouldn’t have to put anything on my college applications?”

“Not if they’re sealed.”

“So the universities wouldn’t know—”

“Forget about college right now!” Carter snapped.

“How can I forget about college, Dad!” Ernesto exploded. “Other than sex, college is all I ever think about. Because it’s all you and Mom ever think about!”

The prep school supplied lots of perks, among them the faculty lounge. It was set up like a café in a bookstore with tables, chairs, a few comfy sofas, and several computer stations, allowing teachers to go on-line and check their E-mail. Plenty of reading material—novels, nonfiction, magazines, and papers—sat on the built-in shelves that lined the walls. A few excellent pieces of student artwork were displayed. The biggest benefit, in Decker’s mind, was the in-house laundry service. When Dr. Dahl saw him gaping at the counter, she explained that the faculty worked long hours. It was the least they could do.

Decker had to strain to hear her because, as they walked, Ernesto was sandwiched between them. He followed the administrator through the area, ignoring the steely looks of those who occupied the space. He said, “A place that does the wash. What’s your starting salary?”

The woman actually cracked a smile. “It’s on the high side because all of our teachers have postcollege education.”

An obvious slap in the face meant to put him in his place. Decker just shrugged. “I’m an attorney. Does that count?”

She slowed, giving him a quick glance. “You’re an attorney?”

“Once upon a time.”

“You actually passed the bar?”

“Now you’re getting insulting.”

She blushed. “I didn’t mean—”

“Yes, I passed the bar,” Decker said.

Gently, Jaime guided Ernesto. “This way.”

The annex was a blip of a room off the lounge. It was paneled, cozy, and held two tables, each with a computer, and several couches. It also had its own private rest rooms, which Decker found very impressive. They had interrupted a couple involved in a deep conversation. The young blond woman stood up, red-faced and red-eyed, smiling nervously at Dr. Dahl. The man—a bit older, in his thirties—remained on the couch, trying to adopt a casual demeanor, raking his hair with his fingers.