"Heath Burns." The officer settled into the chair opposite the table, opening a manila folder, spreading its contents across the surface. "Is that your real name?"

Heath grinned. "Does it sound fake to you?"

The officer gave him a bland stare.

Heath squinted at the badge on the pocket of his uniform shirt. "Goodfellow," he said. "Now that sounds fake."

"How old are you, Heath?"

"Sixteen next July."

"So.. fifteen?"

"I guess so. Hey, were you one of the guys who found the dead kid? What was that like? I mean, I don't mean to sound insensitive or anything, but that had to be pretty wicked, right?"

Goodfellow stared at him a second time, then folded his hands together atop the table. "Do you know why you're here, Heath?"

"Um.. I'm guessing it's because a kid in New Salem got whacked.." He noted the officer's expression and said, "I mean, uh, he died under mysterious circumstances. So you're trying to find out who might have done it? Wasn't me. I was out on a hot date that night."

"With whom?"

"Uh." Heath rolled his neck, looking away. "Well, she's not a student here."

The officer picked up a pen, pulling a steno pad out from under the folder. "Is she a student at New Salem High?"

"No. No. She's.. uh, look, no, I made it up. I wasn't on a date, OK? But if anybody asks, can you back me up on that? I kinda told people.."

"What were you doing on Sunday night, Mr Burns? For real, this time."

Heath sat back in the chair, propping his feet against the table. "At home, you know, watching TV, playing some video games. No big deal."

Goodfellow nodded, making a note on his steno pad. "And about how long were you doing that for?"

He shrugged, scrunching up his face, trying to remember. "About five to eleven."

"What did you watch?"

" 'Scuse me?"

Goodfellow looked up at him. "You said you watched TV. What did you watch?"

"Oh. Uh.. you know, there was this ball game. I watched that."

The officer tapped the pen's end against his notepad. "Do you know what the penalty is for lying to the police?"

Heath shook his head. "Should I?"

"I think we both know there was no 'ball game' on TV Sunday night. Just tell me what you watched."

"Right." Heath swallowed, looking down. "Sorry. Uh.. I watched.. there was this.."

"I'm sorry, I can't hear you. Could you speak up, please?"

"Project Runway. OK? I watched Project Runway. It was a re-run. I have friends who are really into fashion, all right?"

Officer Goodfellow nodded, managing not to fully smirk as Heath sulked, and jotted it down. "And after that?"

"Played 'Angry Ghouls' for a while. A few hours or something."

"Until about eleven?"

"Yep. Look, is that all you wanted to know? I'm potentially failing Biteology right now, and I'd really like to at least fail with honest effort."

Officer Goodfellow looked up at him, then shuffled some papers from the manila folder. "I'm noticing a lot of fire-related issues in your file."

"Wow, is that my school record? It's pretty big."

"Can you explain why that happens?"

Heath frowned. "The fire thing? It's just a natural reaction. Sometimes it gets a little out of hand, though."

"Do you consider yourself to be a monster, Mr Burns?"

He half-laughed, settling back in his chair, feet on the floor. "Yeah. Any reason I shouldn't?"

"And what kind of monster are you?"

Heath rubbed the back of his neck, weirdly discomforted. "Fire elemental."

Goodfellow gave him a forced, cheerless smile. "You'll have to excuse me. I'm not familiar with, uh.. your people."

"Hey, that's.. Whatever. It's cool."

"If I were to tell you the boy found in New Salem had suffered burns to most of his body before his death, would you want to change any of the details of your story about Sunday night?"

Heath frowned. Officer Goodfellow stared at him, his face neutral, hands folded, but there was something threatening about it, something unkind. "Is that true?"

The officer shrugged. The sliver of a smile crept onto his face. "Does it matter?"

A cold sweat beaded on his forehead. "I was at home Sunday night, all night. I didn't set anything on fire. I didn't go into New Salem. All right?"

Officer Goodfellow shrugged, leaning back in his chair. "I believe you, Heath, but.. you have a history of lying, don't you? And a history of causing fires? And, if I'm not mistaken, you have been to New Salem, haven't you?"

"Well.. it was Halloween, like, last year, maybe the year before. I didn't do anything wrong."

"Right. Plenty of men in jail insist they're innocent." He stood, gathering Heath's file and its papers together. "If you could leave contact information, that would be great. We may have more questions for you in the near future. I'd like to talk with your parents, as well, so leave a phone number and an address."

Heath nodded, frowning.

"The girl you were speaking to.. was she also with you in New Salem on Halloween?"

"Who, Abbey? Uh.. no. No, it was.. just me.. and some of the guys. We went to a party. I don't know what Abbey did."

Officer Goodfellow paused, one hand on the doorknob. "For someone who's so terrible at lying, it's amazing you continue to do it."

"Yeah.. I get that a lot." He didn't back down from the officer's stare, but he could feel the heat gathering around his collar, sweat dripping along his back.

Goodfellow turned the doorknob and stepped back, allowing Heath to leave.

"Send in your friend, if you don't mind. And thanks, Heath." This time, his smile was not even pretending to be friendly; it made Heath think of a bear trap, all shiny, sharp, and full of ugly purpose. "You've been a big help."