Innocent Mistakes Page 3

  “Mom, for the millionth time, I didn’t do it!” He hears the crack in his voice and squeezes his eyes against the tears that threaten to spill out.

  Why won’t they believe him?

  Dad reads his mind. “Okay, Col, we believe you. We do.”

  He lets out his breath in a whoosh and lowers his shoulders. “Good.”

  “But until we get this straightened out with the school, there’s no baseball, no socializing. You go to school in the morning and come right back home. That’s it.”

  “Wait—I’m grounded? I can’t play? The team needs me. I thought you believed me!”

  His parents exchange a look. Mom smiles. It’s a sickly smile, and suddenly it reminds him of the smile Aunt Sasha gave him outside Dunbar’s office.

  “We do, honey. But this is a serious accusation, and …” She trails off and eyes his dad.

  Dad nods.

  She clears her throat, then continues. “The local news stations have picked up the story. Hunter’s given some interviews. There are polls on social media, asking what people think. It’s getting ugly, Doodle. You’re not grounded. It’s just … it’s better if we keep our heads down for a while. Understand?”

  “Yeah.” He nods glumly. This sucks.

  Mom lifts her chin and calls toward the front of the house. “That means you, too.”

  Siobhan’s around the corner, eavesdropping. She’s been there since Aunt Sasha brought him home, pressed against the dining room wall. He noticed her ages ago, but he didn’t realize Mom knew she was there, too.

  Now his twin plunges into the room, her fists balled at her sides. “Why? That’s not fair—”

  Dad cuts her protest short. “None of this is fair.”

  She shakes her head. “But, if Colin didn’t do anything wrong, why are we acting like he did? It’s gonna make him look guilty!”

  He pushes out his lower lip and nods his agreement. She’s got a point.

  “It’s complicated,” Mom says. That’s it. Like that’s the whole explanation.

  “Right,” Dad says.

  Siobhan’s not satisfied. “What did Aunt Sasha say?”

  Colin gnaws on his lip. She was listening. She knows this plan is exactly what their aunt said not to do, and she knows what Dad said in response. She’s just going to get him all worked up again.

  Dad’s face tightens. “Your aunt’s a talented attorney, and we’re lucky to have her in our corner for any legal issues that might come up. But she doesn’t call the shots, Siobhan. We’re your parents, and we’ve decided this is the way it’s going to be.”

  Sensing a lost cause, she turns toward Mom. “So, what about the spring semi-formal? Are you saying I can’t go to the dance? I already have a dress.”

  Mom scrunches up her face.

  “When is it?” Dad asks her.

  “Two weeks from Friday.”

  A too-wide smile splits Dad’s face in half and he waves a hand in the air. “This’ll all be over long before that,” he says in a bold, confident tone.

  Just then, there’s a loud crack in the living room. Then the crash of shattering glass. Finally a heavy thud vibrates the floor and rattles the dishes in the drying rack.

  They all run toward the noise and skid to a stop in a tight clump to stare down at the brick that sits on the wide plank flooring in a sea of glistening glass. Tires squeal outside, and Colin raises his eyes to stare through the jagged hole in the wide front window as a highlighter green Jeep careens around the corner.

  Dad races to the window, shouting for the driver to stop. But the Jeep’s already disappeared.

  “Did you catch a plate?” Mom asks.

  Dad shakes his head. “No, but it’s a neon green Jeep. There can’t be too many of those in the neighborhood.”

  Colin locks eyes with Siobhan over the brick.

  Don’t tell.

  She blinks and dips her chin forward.

  I won’t.

  Mom pulls out her phone to call first the police, and then Aunt Sasha. Dad stalks off toward the broom closet, swearing darkly under his breath. Siobhan bites down on her lower lip and drops her gaze back to the brick. Colin does the same.

  Someone’s scrawled You’ll get yours on it with a white paint pen. The handwriting is jagged and slashy. He can feel the anger simmering in the words. He shoves his hands in his pockets and digs the toe of his sneaker into the floor.

  Dad’s wrong: this isn’t going to blow over anytime soon.

  5

  Leo stands at the kitchen window and watches Sasha sway back and forth, back and forth, on the porch swing. She’s lost in thought—has been, ever since she came home. All through dinner, her eyes had that faraway look, even as she’d laughed in all the right places at Finn’s epic story and marveled at Fiona’s newest dinosaur fact.

  He starts the dishwasher, pours Sasha a glass of wine, and grabs himself a beer from the fridge. He opens the door and steps over Mocha, who seems to think his job description includes sleeping in the doorways. He blinks up at him with mild curiosity, then yawns and buries his head in his paws.

  Sasha cranes her neck around to look at him, too. She scoots over to make room for him on the swing, lifting the cat onto her lap as she does so. Java mews in protest but kneads her thighs and resettles.

  “Stargazing?” he asks, handing her the wineglass.

  She arches one eyebrow and gives a pointed look at the overcast sky, blanketed with rain clouds. There’s not a star in sight.

  “Thinking.” She sips the wine. “Thanks.”

  “Colin?”

  She nods and takes another sip. Then she frowns. “Fiona asked me while I was getting them ready for bed if Colin’s going to go to jail. Did you say something to them?”

  “No. Of course not. We need to, though. It’s all over the news. They’re going to hear things.” He wonders how to explain Colin’s current predicament to a pair of not-quite six-year olds.

  “That poor kid.” Her voice is soft.

  He doesn’t want to ask, knows he shouldn’t. Yet … “You’re sure he didn’t post that message?”

  Her gaze flies up to meet his. In the soft glow of the fairy lights hanging from the deck ceiling, her bright green eyes glitter and sparkle.

  “He says he didn’t, Connelly.”

  “That’s not what I asked.”

  She falls silent. The swing rocks gently. She runs her hand over Java’s back and gets swatted for the effort. Leo pulls on his beer and waits.

  “I believe him.”

  “Okay. Then, so do I.”

  And he does. He’s known Sasha’s nieces and nephews for a decade. When he and Sasha started dating, Colin and Siobhan were younger than Finn and Fiona are now. He casts his mind back to playing catch with the boy. The surprising thwack and sting of the five-year old’s speedball against the leather glove. Ever since he’s known him, Colin’s lived for baseball—and history. The occasional girlfriend. Terrible music. He’s a good kid.

  But in the back of Leo’s mind, the niggling thought whispers, “That’s always what they say, isn’t it? He’s a good kid. We can’t believe it.” He pushes the idea away and focuses on Sasha, who smiles at him.

  “Good. He needs us in his corner.”

  “What about your brother and Jordan? They believe him, right?”

  She nods. “Yeah. Sean is … well, he’s not handling it the way I would. But it’s not my decision to make.”

  “How do you mean?”

  “He’s circling the wagons. Shutting his family off from the rest of the world. The phone was ringing nonstop while I was there—friends calling to see if they’re okay. He told Jordan not to answer it. He said they’re going to keep a low profile until this blows over.”

  “What would you do differently?”

  She sips and thinks. “It’s not going to blow over. At least not quickly. I understand the impulse to withdraw, but it makes them—it makes Colin—look guilty. They have friends who will support them. If Sean l
ets them.”

  “If he doesn’t, they’ll end up against him. It’s human nature. People want to pick a side.”

  “I know.”

  “Did you tell Sean that?”

  Her laugh is short and dry. “Yeah, I told him. I even tried to give him the number of a crisis communications expert the firm uses. Someone who can help them control the message, project the right image. He blew me off. Said Colin’s innocent, and they don’t need all that crap.”

  Worry blooms in her emerald eyes. He knows she’s seen innocent people convicted, and guilty people walk free. Sean’s being naïve, but Leo can’t fault him. He gets it. Still, she’s right. It’s a mistake. He only hopes it’s not a fatal one.

  He loops an arm across her shoulder and over her back and pulls her close. She snuggles into his side and rests her head on his chest. She’s barely settled in when her phone rings, shrill but muffled, under the blanket that’s spread across her lap. The cat, unamused by the disturbance, issues a warning low in his throat while she unearths the phone from the folds of the blanket.

  “Hello?” She sits up straight. “Slow down, Jordan. Is anybody hurt?”

  He stills the swing and watches her. Her small frame vibrates with energy, adrenaline.

  “Did you call the police? Good. Yes, take pictures. Email them to me.”

  He catches her eye, and she shakes her head. He’s not sure what she means by that, but he is sure that something bad’s happened. The one-sided conversation is fraught and tense.

  “I’m glad you called. Right. You, too.”

  She ends the call and drains her glass.

  “What happened?”

  “Someone lobbed a brick through their living room window. Everyone’s fine. But, this is only the beginning.”

  She’s right. The knot in the pit of his stomach says she’s right.

  She lifts the cat from her lap and deposits him onto Leo’s. Then she stands and brushes a kiss over his mouth. “I have some work to do.”

  She goes inside, trailed by the dog. Leo sits on the swing and stares out into the yard as the darkness deepens and the rain continues to fall. The unease in his gut deepens, too, and he can feel it settling into his bones and coursing through his veins: something bleak and bitter is coming for Colin, coming for all of them.

  6

  Lainey Fuller stands in the darkened hallway outside her daughter’s bedroom and hesitates. Should she go in? The door is ajar—but barely. The thinnest sliver of light seeps out through the crack and pools on the floor at Lainey’s feet.

  It’s early yet. Just past ten. Mallory’s probably doing homework or on a video call with a friend. Lainey tilts her ear toward the quiet room, straining to hear something—a tone of voice, an exclamation, some hint that she can use to tease out whether her presence will be welcomed or rebuffed. But the room is almost silent. She thinks she can make out the tinny sounds of distant music, as if Lainey has her earbuds in and her music up too loud. As usual.

  She inhales and reaches for the doorknob. As she grasps the cold metal, her phone dings in her pocket. She pulls back her hand as if the door is on fire and fumbles for the phone. The notification is from one of her group text messages. She scurries down the hall to her own bedroom and flops onto the low couch along the wall to pull up the chat thread, reading along in real time as it explodes with posts.

  Bella: Did you hear? Some boys put a brick through the McCandlesses’ window.

  * * *

  Kristen: OMG

  * * *

  Chloe: Pics or it didn’t happen.

  * * *

  Bella: Too blurry, too rainy. Couldn’t get one. But the police just left.

  * * *

  Chloe: Well, good for them. That poor Dalton boy. I mean, honestly.

  * * *

  Kristen: …

  Lainey watches with interest as the three little dots beside Kristen’s name flare to life then die, over and over. She imagines Kristen—careful, quiet Kristen—crafting and rejecting response after response, hoping to hit on just the right tone.

  Ruth-Ann Clemson chimes in. As usual, Ruth-Ann brings the gossip.

  Ruth-Ann: Leigh Dalton told me they’ve contacted the FBI.

  * * *

  [Jordan M has left the chat]

  Interesting. She forgot Jordan was in this group. Oh, well, Jordan McCandless would probably be leaving lots of groups tonight.

  Bella: Really? That seems excessive.

  * * *

  Chloe: You think? If someone made a death threat against my kid, you better believe I’d get the feds involved.

  Chloe would, Lainey knows. She’s over the top that way. Kristen finally musters her nerve and posts, and Lainey snorts when she reads it. Chloe and Ruth-Ann are gonna tear her to pieces.

  Kristen: Um, guys, don’t forget Colin says he didn’t do it. My son says Colin swears up and down it wasn’t him. Maybe we can wait until all the information comes out before we condemn a sixteen-year-old boy? Just a thought.

  Lainey doesn’t post, that would be piling on, but she reads along, skimming really, as Chloe and Ruth-Ann eviscerate Kristen. Her attention is piqued when Bella drops a bombshell.

  Bella: If he’s so innocent, K., why do you suppose he has a lawyer? A well-known Downtown lawyer who specializes in high-profile scandals.

  * * *

  Chloe: Seriously?

  * * *

  Bella: Yes. Roshi heard Siobhan talking about it.

  * * *

  Ruth-Ann: Hmm … interesting.

  Chloe: Verrrrry.

  * * *

  Kristen: That lawyer is his aunt. I wouldn’t read too much into it.

  Lainey cracks her knuckles, grateful Doug isn’t around to tell her it’s a nasty habit, and shoots off a post before she can second-guess herself.

  Lainey: Has Colin been charged with anything? Does anyone know?

  * * *

  Ruth-Ann: Hang on. BRB.

  * * *

  [Leigh has joined the chat.]

  * * *

  Ruth-Ann: I invited Leigh to join us. It doesn’t seem right to be talking behind her back. You know?

  * * *

  Chloe: Absolutely. Hi, Leigh!

  * * *

  Bella: OMG, Leigh. How ARE you?!

  * * *

  Kristen: …

  * * *

  Leigh: Hi, ladies. :-) Thanks for the invite. To answer Lainey’s question, no, they haven’t charged Colin. Yet. But apparently making a death threat over the internet is a federal felony, so he could be in A LOT of trouble.

  Making a nasty internet post is a federal crime? If that’s true, how are most of the adults in the community walking free? She chuckles to herself, clicks her tongue, thinking, and then types:

  Lainey: Wow. I didn’t know that.

  * * *

  Leigh: Usually, it’s handled by the school or maybe the local cops. But it *is* a federal crime, and, given the circumstances, we’re insisting that the proper authorities handle it.

  What circumstances would those be, Lainey wonders? But if anyone is going to make a federal case out of a mean internet comment, it’s Leigh. She’ll probably milk the situation to give her anemic school board campaign a boost. She catches herself in the catty thought and blushes. She’s about to write something supportive to make up for her private snark, but Kristen beats her to it.

  Kristen: Let us know if you need anything, Leigh.

  * * *

  Leigh: Thanks, ladies! We’re so grateful for all the support. The track team moms have organized a dinner sign-up for us if any of you want to contribute a meal. And Hunter’s gotten so many texts and calls. While I can’t condone vandalism …

  An up-close, in-focus picture of a broken window materializes on Lainey’s phone. She recognizes Jordan and Sean McCandless’ front porch and wonders, just for a moment, how Leigh happens to have such a photograph.

  Another notification pops up, this one letting Lainey know that Mallory’s receive
d a direct message on a profile Mallory doesn’t think Lainey knows about. What Mallory doesn’t realize is Lainey knows about all her profiles, including this one called Science Grl. She installed a program on the phone before they gave it to her, over Doug’s objection that a girl needs her privacy. Alone in her room, Lainey rolls her eyes. Wonder if Doug gets it now that a cyberbullying incident at the high school made the evening news?

  She closes the chat window and pulls up Mallory’s account to see what the kids have to say about the scandal du jour. But Mallory’s not gossiping with her girlfriends like Lainey is. Her message is from Hunter himself. Her boyfriend, Lainey supposes, although Mallory never refers to him that way.

  Lainey can’t help wishing that Mallory and Colin were still together. They were a good pair. And Lainey doesn’t understand why they broke up. But young love is fickle, and Mallory’s with Hunter now. Lainey’s surprised none of her friends mentioned jealousy as a potential motive for the post. Give it time, she thinks.