“How’d you know about the mouse mask?” I asked.
I hoped for a flicker of doubt. Just a flicker.
Instead, I got another smile. “One of the state troopers told me. I’m sure he wasn’t supposed to. It turns out they can be kind of sloppy. You thought you caught me in a mistake, didn’t you?”
“I was just wondering.”
“You’re a surprisingly bad liar. When I was your age, I lied all the damn time. Why are you so terrible at it? Don’t you ever lie to your parents about where you’ve been?”
I’m not sure what he intended to accomplish with his attitude, but I was becoming less anxious and more pissed off. Not that I was going to rush at him and try to claw his eyes out, but the idea of politely excusing myself and going home was losing its appeal. He abducted Todd. Probably killed him. And I’d make sure he didn’t get away with it.
“Fine,” I said. “I think you did it.”
“Now we’re getting somewhere. What makes you say that?”
“I saw you.”
“And you don’t think it’s possible that you were mistaken?”
“Do you have a twin brother?” I asked.
“No.”
“Then it was you.”
“You sound pretty certain of this.”
“I am.”
“I wasn’t there, so I don’t know the whole story,” said Mr. Martin. “The way I understand it, the witness didn’t get close enough to press his face against the windows and peer inside. He saw the events from a distance. While he was wearing a mask, for some unknown reason. When you go trick-or-treating with your little friends, how well do you see through those narrow eyeholes?”
“I see fine. It’s not a blindfold.”
“What are you hoping for here, Curtis? Think I’ll just spill my guts?”
“Maybe. If you know you’re caught.”
“You’re wasting your time. I was fast asleep that night—at least until the state trooper woke me up. I’m heartsick over your friend’s disappearance, what his parents must be going through, what you must be going through, and I pray that he’ll find his way home. All you’re doing is harassing a hard-working, honest citizen.”
“I thought of a follow-up question,” I said.
“Let’s hear it.”
“You were going to call my school to see if the assignment was real. If I call the cops who talked to you, will they verify that they told you about the mask?”
“Yep.”
“Should we do it?”
“No,” said Mr. Martin.
“Why not? Because you know they’ll say you’re lying?”
“Because you haven’t earned my trust. What’s to stop you from telling them that I’m holding you here against your will? I shouldn’t have let you in my home in the first place. In fact, I’d like you to leave now.”
“May I ask one more follow-up question?”
“Go ahead.”
“What the fuck did you do to my friend?”
“Oooh, the tone has changed,” said Mr. Martin. “I’m not sure if I like it or not. Let me be perfectly clear, Curtis. If I was the person you’re looking for, if I’d lured poor Todd into my car, sawed off his arms and legs, and thrown his body into the Chena River, I can assure you that you wouldn’t get that information out of me by faking a school assignment. If I was the guilty party, which I’m not, do you think I could fool the authorities, the people who devote their entire lives to catching criminals…and yet you’re going to stumble on in here and catch me red-handed? Is that seriously what you thought? Do you think you’re some kind of genius, Curtis? That wasn’t a rhetorical question. I’d like to know. Do you think you’re some kind of genius?”
“No.”
“Good. Because from where I sit, you’re rock-stupid. Which is a real problem for you, because you’re clearly not athletic, so you need brains to balance out your weak blob of a body. I know the assignment doesn’t exist, but you should write it up anyway. Write up an entire paper about what an idiot you were for doing this. I figure you’ll get a C, maybe a C-minus. Not too bad for somebody as dumb as you.”
I wondered if Mr. Martin would talk to me like this if he knew I had a handgun in my backpack.
“And I’ll be perfectly happy if you call the state troopers. Go ahead and tell them I was rude to you. Send them back over here. See how harassing a private citizen, one who hasn’t been charged with any crime, works out for you.”
“Why are you so nervous?” I asked.
“What the fuck makes you think I’m nervous?”
“You’re talking a lot. I’m just a fat little kid. Why are you wasting your time having this discussion with me? If you think I’m making up the assignment, why are we still sitting here? Why haven’t you kicked me out of your house?”
“I asked you to leave.”
“And then you started ranting.”
“Now it’s time for you to go.”
“And if I don’t?” I knew that this was getting out of hand. Hell, Mr. Martin might have a hidden gun of his own within easy reach. But he’d flipped a switch inside of me, and I wanted him to be exposed for the monster he was. If I could keep him angry—but hopefully not homicidally angry—I might get the information I needed out of him.
Mr. Martin stood up. “Then I’ll remove you.”
It might have been possible for me to simply get up and head for the door. He might not have tried to stop me. Or, he might have forcibly shoved me out the door, not bothering with the throat-slitting. Reviewing my decision with a few decades of hindsight, I’m still not certain what advice I would give to my fourteen-year-old self in this moment. If I could have paused time, sat there on the couch with an unlimited opportunity to really consider my next move, I don’t know what course of action I’d
