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something-’

Elzey’s cop stare made her pause, the phrase – ‘may have’ – reverberating in the abrupt silence.

Annabel pressed on, trying to explain without making them seem crazy, but Mike stayed quiet, drawing into himself. He knew this drill, the feeling of being on the wrong side of an interrogation. Though it had been years since he’d been on the receiving end, he could still read the shifts that made clear that you were subject to the law, not being aided by it.

He stood, touched his wife on the back. ‘Let’s go.’ He nodded at the detectives. ‘Thank you for your time.’

‘Sit down,’ Elzey said.

Mike stayed on his feet. Waited a moment. When he spoke, his voice was perfectly even. ‘I’ll stand, thanks.’

Elzey stood, matching him eye to eye. Annabel rose, too, jostling Elzey a bit since the detective was standing too close to her. Markovic watched the whole thing with an air of been-there detachment that seemed weary and faintly amused all at once.

‘The way this shit went down,’ Elzey said, ‘you better hope your boy William doesn’t press charges against you.’

Her temper was up, her intonation shifting, dropping into a street cadence. She and Mike were different pages from the same book. She’d made good, gone legit, but the street kid was still in there, wanting to scrap, needing to prove something. She blinked once and looked away, uncomfortable under his gaze.

Mike said, ‘You seem awfully dug into this all of sudden.’.

Elzey made a pronounced shrug, all shoulders and spread hands. ‘You came through our door.’

Annabel let out a single, mirthless laugh. ‘My husband gets assaulted at a ceremony honoring his community service and you start investigating him?’

‘“Assaulted”?’ Markovic finally stood as well, the four of them now around shoved-back chairs like a huddle that wasn’t huddling. ‘From what you said yourself, they never so much as threatened you.’

Mike said, ‘The whole thing was a threat.’

‘Then help us figure out why you’re being threatened,’ Elzey said. ‘Your records look like Swiss cheese. You just appeared outta thin air when you were nineteen, yeah?’

‘I grew up locally.’

‘What’s “locally” mean? Strip mall across the street?’

‘I haven’t broken any laws. I’m fully in the system. Taxes, Social Security number. I don’t need to report every fact from my childhood.’

‘How ’bout any fact?’ Elzey said.

‘You’ve got my date of birth.’ The one he’d been assigned along with the last name Doe. Even when he’d personalized his surname, he’d kept the birthday, since it was the only one he had.

‘What about the rest? Parents? Childhood address? Grade school?’

‘Why are you so interested in my past?’

Elzey’s lips met in something like a smile. ‘Me and Marko, we’re just askin’ questions here.’

Annabel took Mike’s arm and said, ‘Thanks for all your help.’

Kat was on her feet, watching anxiously, chewing on a backpack strap. She scurried across to meet them. The whole way to the door, Mike could feel the detectives’ stares boring a hole through his shoulder blades.

THEN Chapter 14

Three minutes past midnight, Mike sees the red lights against the window of the shared bedroom of 1788 Shady Lane and he knows. The neighboring cot is empty; Shep’s been working as a bouncer at a crappy bar and won’t be home for hours, if at all. Mike hears the Couch Mother’s steps thundering toward the front door, a quickening drumroll of his own mounting anxiety. He burrows, wanting to bury his head beneath the sheets. On the plastic stool that serves as his nightstand rests a dog-eared copy of The Grapes of Wrath that some genius – no doubt Dubronski or Tony M – has scratched up so the cover reads The rape of rat. Around him the others stir. Mike thinks, It’s all over.

A half hour later, he is in the all-too-familiar interrogation room, and this time, there will be no kindly Saab- owning grandfather to rescue his ass.

Yes, that is him in the security-still frame. Yes, he pawned the rare, stolen coin. Yes, he found it on the street.

As always, the detectives are faceless, nameless. They are adults in Peanuts cartoons. They are sounds and pointed information.

‘You’re a decent kid,’ they say. ‘We can tell. It’s not too late for you.’ They say, ‘We been looking at your record. Some run-ins, sure, but a safecracking job? It doesn’t add up. Now, we know you’re buddies with Shepherd White, and that sounds like something more up his alley. That kid is bad news. He’s going down sooner or later. You gonna let him drag you down with him?’

Mike thinks, Loyalty. He thinks, Stamina.

They say, ‘You’re on your way to college, trying to be a good citizen. Bright future. Shepherd White is a punk and a reprobate. You do the math.’

But Mike is working out a different equation. He is still seventeen years old. Shep is eighteen, and Shep has two felonies on his adult record. If Mike rolls on Shep, this will be Shep’s third strike, and he will go away for twenty-five to life.

Mike knows the options, and both scare him so badly that he has sweated through his communal T-shirt.

The detectives are unimpressed with Mike’s willingness to be exculpated. They say, ‘If you don’t want to play ball, here’s how it goes. You’ve got a shit-stained rap sheet, and we’ve got an angry victim, one Mr Sandoval from Valley Liquors, willing to say what needs to be said. Juries love safecracking cases; in this day and age, they’re quaint and easy to grasp. One way or another, we will nail your sorry foster-home ass. Even if we have to take a loss on the burglary, we can make receiving stolen stick as a felony. Which means you do time. So you better think long and hard about whether your pal is worth it.’

If Shep was present, he would speak up. He would serve a life sentence before letting Mike take the fall, because he is pure, unlike Mike, who is fighting with himself to do the right thing and wishing Shep were here to step in and take the choice away from him.

Mike’s throat is dry and tight. He says, ‘He is.’

The detectives are ready for this. They produce an application from Cal State L.A. and say, ‘Read.’

Mike reads question 11b, which is highlighted in yellow: ‘Have you ever been arrested for, convicted of, or forfeited collateral for any felony or Class A misdemeanor violation?’

They say, ‘That’s right. This won’t be done when you get out either. This is throwing away college. This is throwing away your future. Think it over.’

He is arraigned the next day and makes bail.

At home, as he heads up the walk, Mike sees Shep waiting in the bay window. They go out back, plunk down on the rotting swings.

Shep says, ‘No way. I’m going in and telling them.’

Mike says, ‘You go in, you’re not coming back out, Mr Two-Strikes-You’ve-Seen-Me-Play-Ball.’

Shep’s voice, for the first time in a long time, is loud. ‘I don’t care. This is your life. This is college. I’m going in.’

‘If you go in, I’ll never come visit you,’ Mike says. ‘I’ll never talk to you again for the rest of my life.’

Shep’s face changes, and for one awful instant Mike thinks he is going to cry.

As promised, receiving stolen property sticks. The judge is tired of kids like Mike, and he is assigned to six months in the Hall. The night before he is due to report, he asks for a moment alone in the bedroom. The others grant his last request. Shep’s face shows nothing, but Mike knows he is devastated to be left out with the others.