Sam shrugs. “No need.”
The lawyer begins to collect his paperwork. Headlights flare in the window over the sink and they hear the cruiser’s engine. Sergeant Woods parks behind Sam’s truck and crunches across the thin fall of new snow to the house.
Met with Reuben’s immediate inquiry after Pete Fosse, Woods answers, “He’ll live but I think he’s all done playing hoops.”
“And Dale Michaud?”
“In the hoosegow. The only thing he’s said to me was he hasn’t been inside a jail since he was a nineteen-year-old Marine in the brig over a drunken brawl. Otherwise, he won’t tell us anything.”
The cop’s undisguised surprise at Freddy’s presence makes the lawyer laugh.
Sinking into the rocker by the fire, Reuben gestures Woods to a chair at the table. “Freddy’s here to see Deanie about an emancipation order, Lonnie.”
The cop cocks his head.
“That’s what she wants.” Reuben rolls his palms resignedly. “To stay here. The only place the state could find for her is Lisbon Falls. She’d have to transfer schools and lose the rest of her basketball season.”
Woods gives Sam a quizzical glance. “I’d like to talk to her too.”
“She’s gone to bed,” Sam says, startling them all with the anger tensing his words. “She’s had enough for today.”
“All right,” the cop says in a soothing way.
Parking himself opposite Sam, Woods opens his notebook, and puts on a pair of reading glasses.
“Sure you don’t want me to stay?” Freddy offers in a low voice.
Sam shakes his head no.
Reviewing his notes, Sergeant Woods seems hardly to notice when Reuben and Freddy excuse themselves. They can be heard in the living room, clicking on the tube and settling down in front of prime-time war coverage.
Cautiously, Sam outlines the events in the parking lot and at Chapin’s. The cop has to coax what Dale Michaud said out of him.
“Do you know what he meant? Pete is in no condition to do any explaining.”
Sam studies his thumbs. “Mr. Michaud seems to think Pete and some other guys took advantage of his daughter. Lexie.”
Woods peeks over his glasses. “The younger one?” The cop twiddles his pen and phrases his next question carefully. “Is it true?”
“I wasn’t there,” Sam says.
Woods pounces. “You heard something about it? You know who was involved? Besides Pete, I mean. I assume.”
“There was some gossip. You know the stuff that goes around school.” Face grown hot, Sam feels the truth like a hairball in his stomach.
“So tell me who else is supposed to have been there,” the cop coaxes. “If there were a lot of stories around then a lot of people will be able to give me names and so on. You won’t be the only one.”
“I wasn’t there,” Sam repeats. “I don’t know what happened.”
Woods believes Sam’s assertion he wasn’t there, wherever it was and whatever went on. But he’s convinced Sam can give him names. “Would it help any if I told you there may not be any criminal act involved? It depends on the ages involved. Statutory rape—the state doesn’t call it that anymore, it’s unlawful sexual contact—occurs if the victim is under sixteen and the actor is over nineteen, or if the victim is under fourteen and the actor is at least three years older. So if Lexie Michaud is fourteen—”
“Her father said she isn’t,” Sam says.
“All right. If she’s thirteen and her partner was sixteen or younger, it wasn’t unlawful. Unless she was sufficiently impaired. Age doesn’t matter if a victim is too impaired to give consent. Then it’s outright sexual assault.”
Sam tries desperately to sort out the information. He is badly shaken by the realization he has apparently been mistaken about what constitutes statutory rape or whatever it’s called now. Unlawful sexual contact. Lexie was wrecked. So was Grey. He didn’t give much thought to Grey before. She was so far gone when he saw her, he doesn’t see how she could have given consent. But maybe earlier she was capable. Aside from his uncertainty about the legal gravity of the incident, everywhere Sam looks, it seems to him obvious this will all come back on the team eventually. His original anger at Pete and those other idiots flares up like acid indigestion.
“I had an idea you and Pete were on the outs with each other.” Woods continues to poke and prod. “What was all that about?”
“Pete’s a jerk,” Sam mutters. “He’s been a jerk since we were in junior high. It’s nothing new.”
Woods tacks in another direction. “What about Chapin? He’s not one of Pete’s buddies. What’s his connection to Lexie? Was he part of whatever the rumors claim happened?”
“Chapin’s a sleaze. He goes after really young girls, the screwed-up ones. They’re so easy to impress with how bad he is, you know?”
Sam’s bitter vehemence brings a glint to the cop’s eyes. “Deanie got involved with him about the same age, didn’t she?”
“I guess. I never heard any cops showed any interest in it, though. Nobody kneecapped anybody over it. She doesn’t have anything to do with him anymore.”
“I won’t argue Deanie’s gotten a raw deal right down the line, Sam. Any sign she’s going to talk to me about Lord? Not tonight—I understand she’s exhausted. I need to know if we can count on her going to court to testify against Lord.”
Sam knows he should pass on to Woods what Deanie has told him but he has promised not to tell. Chapin will always be protected by his parents’ money and position. And nothing the law can do bears any resemblance to what Chapin has coming. At the right time and the right place, he will put it as right as he can.
“Not yet.”
“We’ll give her some more time.”
“All the time she needs,” Sam comes back swiftly.
Woods nods. “Of course. Let’s go back to what happened today. Chapin claims he can’t imagine why Dale Michaud wanted to turn his car to scrap. I tried to talk to Lexie. Mrs. Michaud came to the door and told
