Two morning after Claire was found, her's and Ricky's pictures were printed on the front page of the newspaper. "Teenage Boy Arrested in Child Murder," Madeleine read aloud. Her father, Jack, took it away. "Don't you worry about that," he told her, mussing her hair. She scowled but said nothing.
At breakfast, her mother poured her father's tea and switched the radio to a news station. "A youth was arrested and charged yesterday with the mur…" Jack reached over and switched it off.
"Daddy, Mike has his elbows on the table," Madeleine tattled, desperate for some normalcy.
"Michel…" said Jack without looking up from the newspaper.
"But I wasn't!"
Jack said nothing, just flipped a page of the paper. Madeleine stared boredly out the window. "Hey!" she said. "There's a police car at Colleen an' Ricky's house!"
Mimi looked out the window and pursed her lips.
"Ricky must be home," Jack said cheerfully.
Mimi nodded and turned the radio to a rock-n-roll station. Martha and the Vandellas, on fire with desire. Madeleine listened in amazement. Sexy music at the breakfast table, the world had gone funny. Jack stood up, kissed Mimi, patted Madeleine and Mike on the heads and said, "See ya later, alligators."
Mimi stopped him. "Ricky Froelich isn't home," she said to her children. "The police think…" she trailed off and made the sign of the cross.
Jack picked up for her. "The police think…that somehow…Ricky may somehow…Be involved…"
"They think he murdered her," Mike interrupted.
Jack took a deep breath. He continued in a frighteningly calm voice. "The police are just doing their job. However, they have made a mistake. Once they realize their mistake, Ricky will be free and it will be a-okay."
Ten minutes later, Madeleine left for school. The police car was still parked where it had been, and Rex was still tied up with a thick rope. There was white foam forming at his mouth, and Madeleine was worried that the police would think he was rabid and shoot him. She decided to stay until they came out to tell them that Rex was perfectly fine.
"Madeleine!" Mimi called from the doorstep. "Hurry up or you'll be late for school!"
Madeleine ran down the long road to the school, finally catching up with her friends Auriel and Lisa. She walked with them, listening to Lisa talk about her riding lessons, until Colleen approached them.
"Madeleine," she said roughly. Madeleine looked back in shock. Colleen never talked to her when Auriel and Lisa were around. Auriel and Lisa stared, open-mouthed.
"Keep walking," Colleen told them.
"It's okay," said Madeleine.
Colleen waited until Auriel and Lisa were gone to continue. "What are you gonna tell the police?" she asked.
"About what?"
"Ricky and Claire."
Madeleine sighed. She was sick of talking about Claire. She started walking away, but Colleen walked backwards in front of her.
"Tell 'em you saw him turn left at the tree."
"But I didn't."
"But he did."
Madeleine squinted, imitating Humphrey Bogart. "Why should I shay I sheen what I never shaw?"
"'Cause they thinks he raped and murdered her."
"What's rape?" the words slipped out before Madeleine had a chance to stop them. She knew what it meant. She wished she didn't.
Colleen lit a cigarette. Madeleine watched, shocked. Kids everywhere, mothers in every window. She blew the smoke away from her face. "You're way too innocent."
Madeleine flushed, knowing she wasn't. "My mom and dad say he'll be home by supper," she said confidently.
Colleen snorted. "Do you believe everything your mommy and daddy say?"
Madeleine shoved her, then waited for her to reiterate. When she didn't, Madeleine took off running.
"We tuhn eff! On ah ighwayyyy…" Elizabeth thrashed slowly in her wheelchair. All afternoon, she'd been telling the officers the same thing: she and Ricky had turned left on the highway. The inspector, Inspector Bradley, got up slowly from the living room couch. He knew that the girl's testimony was useless. He interviewed her purely because he was pressured. The case was all over national news already, and everyone was on Froelich's side. People said it was impossible for that child to have done that to another child. That was in their perfect world. Ricky Froelich was no longer a child; he was a full-grown man with intent to kill. He picked up his hat, thanked the Froelichs for their time and left the house. He needed to speak to the child witnesses.
In the middle of Social Studies, a police officer came into Marjorie, Madeleine and Grace's classroom. He spoke softly to Mr. March for a while, then turned to face the class.
"Who among you were special friends with Claire?" he asked.
Nobody raised their hand. They all had liked Claire, but none of them considered themselves her special friend. Madeleine remembered Claire's picnic that Thursday and how they had shared it, and the day in April they had swung upside down, laughing. She raised her hand. Everybody stared at her. Then Grace put up her hand. Madeleine wanted to call her a liar: the only thing she and Claire shared was their belief in Santa Clause. Marjorie raised her hand next, only because her pet did first.
The policeman said, "Thank you, children," and left. Madeleine watched his bum wiggle out the door.
"All right, children, break for lunch," Mr. March said.
Madeleine watched everybody swarm for the coat hooks. She felt like she was watching a movie. Everything was different, but nobody noticed but her.
As she walked across the playground, Madeleine wondered what had happened to "exercises". She thought about the story of the giant who ate children for supper until he thought that it might be better to befriend them instead, and wondered if Mr. March was like that. She walked down Marjorie's street and saw Grace drawing on Marjorie's driveway with a piece of chalk. Upon closer examination, Madeleine realized that it wasn't chalk at all, but a piece of old, whitened dog poop. She sighed. Grace was pitiful. From inside the house, she heard Marjorie's voice. "Go away, Grace."
Lunch was Chef Boyardee. Madeleine didn't like it. She thought the canned noodles, sitting in the pantry for months, even years on end, looked like skin. Too polite to say anything, she pushed the noodles around on her plate until her mother stood up to make her tomato soup.
Just before Madeleine was finished eating, her mother looked up from her magazine. "Where were you yesterday afternoon?" she asked.
Madeleine froze. "In a field," she answered slowly.
"For why? Where?"
"Answer your mother," said her father.
Madeleine swallowed hard. "I wanted to find her other streamer."
"Whose?"
"Claire's…" the word hung in the air.
Her mother covered her face with her hands, sobbing.
"I'm sorry," said Madeleine.
Mike stopped eating and stared at the scene. "Can I be excused?" he asked. When nobody answered, he jammed his hat on his head and left.
"Madeleine," said Jack. "You have to understand that someone was killed in that field. There is a dangerous man still out there. Your mom and I are only trying to protect you." He hugged her and Madeleine tried to worm free.
"I didn't go alone," she said reassuringly. "I went with Colleen."
Mimi slapped her once, hard. Madeleine flinched. "I'm sorry!"
"Finish your lunch," Jack said.
After school, Marjorie, Grace and Madeleine were asked to stay behind. Madeleine wondered for a moment if they had been transported magically back to exercises, but no, there was a police officer standing at the door.
"May I please speak to Marjorie Nolan?" he asked. Grace and Madeleine went out to wait in the hallway. Once they were gone, Marjorie began to talk.
"Ricky asked me to go to Rock Bass," she bragged.
"He did?"
"Yes. He said there was a nest."
"When?"
"Um. That day."
"What day?"
"The day she got lost."
"Claire?"
"Yes."
"Continue."
Marjorie smiled and smoothed her dress. "He was always asking me on picnics." The lie came so easily it sounded like the truth. "Well…maybe once or twice."
"What did he ask?"
"Just, 'Hey, Marjorie. You wanna come for a picnic? I know where there's a nest.'"
"What did you say?"
"That I was too young to date."
"Did he act like he was your boyfriend?"
Marjorie giggled. "Yes…"
"How?"
She looked back at Mr. March.
"Look at me, Marjorie, not at your teacher."
She started to cry. Mr. March handed her his hanky…the same one he put over his thing during exercises. She wiped her face with it.
"Did he ever touch you?"
Marjorie nodded.
"Thank you."
"Side door…little girl. Go get Grace."
"Come in, Grace."
Grace hesitated.
"The officers want to talk to you, Grace," Mr. March said.
"Hello, Grace."
Grace groaned.
"Grace…" said Mr. March.
"How are you today, Grace?"
"Fine."
"You knew Claire McCarroll?"
Grace groaned and started to cry.
"It's all right, Grace," said Mr. March. "Just a few more questions."
"Grace, did you play with Claire last Thursday?"
Grace moaned and toppled out of her chair.
"Grace," said Mr. March firmly.
"Did you see Claire last Thursday?"
"Yes."
"Did you play with her?"
Grace licked her lips and nodded.
"When?"
"At the schoolyard."
"During school?"
"After. I saw her with Colleen and Madeleine. So I went to say hi."
"Did you see Ricky?"
"Yes."
"Where?"
"On my back, he was pushing me on the swings."
"Did he ever touch you as if he were your boyfriend?"
"Yes. Sometimes we do exercises and back bends. And squeezing."
"Squeezing?"
"His thing."
Mr. March glanced nervously at the clock. "You may go, Grace," he said.
"Come here, Madeleine."
"Okay." Madeleine stepped into the classroom.
"Did you see Ricky on Thursday?"
"Yes."
"With Claire?"
"Yes."
"Did Ricky ever touch you as if he were your boyfriend?"
"No!"
"Did he offer you rides on his bike?"
"No."
"Has he ever touched you at all?"
"Once. He put his hand on my head and told me to try and punch his arm."
"Has he ever touched you inappropriately?"
No, but Mr. March has, she thought. She shook her head no.
"Did you see Ricky with Claire on Thursday?"
"I told you I did."
"Did he go to Rock Bass with her?"
"No. He turned left at the willow tree." There. She'd said it.
"Thank you, Madeleine." Inspector Bradley stood up. He didn't believe Madeleine's story. Two children against one made the odds pretty low. But a jury might believe her.
A/N: The longest chapter I've ever written. Holy long, Batman! I'm trying to drag this out as long as humanly possible...I love writing this...lol.