“Was she raped?” I ask. I’ve heard rumors she was, but I’ve been around long enough to know you can’t always trust what you hear.
He shakes his head. “There was no sign of sexual assault. Only physical,” he reports before continuing, “Genevieve says that her and Mason also walk down by the creek at eight. They walk down there instead of the Riverwalk because he doesn’t like being around other people. She says she prefers it, too, because she can relax and let him go off by himself. He loves the old railroad bridges down there because I guess the boy’s obsessed with trains. But supposedly, he doesn’t like being away from his mama for too long, so she started getting worried when he went off by himself and wasn’t back in twenty minutes. That’s when she went looking for him.”
I reach into my bag and pull out a notebook and pen. I can’t remember anything unless I write it down. “What’d she find?”
“Hard to say. She’s still pretty worked up and having a hard time talking about it, because obviously, it was traumatic for her too. Finding your son with a dead body will flip anyone’s world upside down. She’s in worse shape than him, but from what we can gather, she says Mason’s body was sprawled on top of Annabelle’s body, and he was blowing into her mouth, trying to save her. She didn’t know what was going on, so according to her, she yanked him off, and he totally freaked out. She was holding him, trying to comfort him and get him to calm down, but when the police got there, they didn’t see anything like that.” Suspicion clouds his face. “All they saw was a kid covered in blood rocking next to the body. He wouldn’t let anyone near him. Not even his mama.” He stops, giving all his statements a chance to sink in. I’m hanging on his every word, too enthralled with the details of the story to jot them down. “Then the police tried to come at the boy, and he flipped out. Totally lost it. That’s what the report says.” He picks up a file from on top of his desk and slides it to me. “Read the highlighted part from the EMT report.”
Boy threw rocks at officers upon approach. Boy spit at EMT Beckstrom. Became aggressive when approached. Attacked officers. Mother stepped in. Boy tried to bite mother and had to be restrained.
I look up after I’ve finished, waiting for him to explain more.
“That right there sounds like a pretty different kid than what Genevieve describes,” he says, raising his eyebrows and cocking his head to the side. “She talks about Mason like he’s a gentle giant. Says he wouldn’t hurt a fly. That’s all she keeps saying, except he gave one of the officers at the scene a real solid right hook that busted his nose up pretty good, so . . .” He raises his shoulders, letting his words trail off along with their implications.
“I understand why those things are alarming if you’re talking about a kid that’s not Mason, but not if you’re talking about him. Lots of those things make sense for Mason. He was already overstimulated, and strangers would make him more anxious when he was so spooked. He doesn’t have the words to express himself, which only leads to more agitation. And getting aggressive? That’s what happens when you don’t have any other way to speak and you’re scared out of your mind.”
Detective Layne takes a few minutes to think about what I’ve said. “Those things might all be true, but either way, she’s lying about what happened down there. I’m just not sure about which part.”
“How do you know?”
“The same way I figure everything out—the facts.” He gives me a smug smile.
“And?” This game feels a little one sided when he’s got all the cards and I’ve got nothing.
“Remember how she claims that she pulled Mason off Annabelle when he found her? That she was holding him?” He pauses before continuing, “We know for a fact that Mason was covered in blood. It was all over him. But when the police and first responders arrived on the scene, Genevieve didn’t have any blood on her clothes. Nothing. It’s all in there.” He points to the police report in my hand. “Now, you tell me, how do you pull your hysterical son off a bloodied body and stay clean?”
“You don’t.”
“Exactly.” He nods. “She’s doing what every mother would do. She’s protecting her own. My guess is that Mason will confess the moment he’s separated from her or he’s free to open up at all, but that’s not going to happen with things the way they are now. That’s why we need your help so badly.”
I tilt my head to the side. “I thought he was nonverbal?” That’s how the media refers to him. “Does he speak?”
“Not really. Genevieve says he likes to draw. We were hoping you might be able to get him to draw something. She also says he uses picture cards. Maybe you could use those too?”
“Maybe.” Hopefully, he uses some assistive technology, but I’ll just have to meet him and go from there. I tuck my notebook back in my bag and pull my calendar up on my phone. “The next two days are booked solid, but I might be able to clear my morning on Wednesday. Does that work?”
“How about now?”
“Now?” I balk, snapping back in my chair.
He shrugs. “Sure. Why not? You’re here. They’re here.”
“They’re here right now?” My eyes scan the walls like I’ll be able to see through them and into the other rooms in the building where they might be sitting.
He nods. “They should be in the conference room with Gunner as we speak.”
My head swirls. “I mean . . . I really think that I need more time. I have to prepare some things. I want to read the police report. I should—”
“Nonsense,” he interrupts me, dismissing my protests with his hand. “You’ll be fine.” He gets up and moves around his desk with a big smile on his face while worry squeezes my chest. “Let’s you and me go have a talk with them.”
THREE
GENEVIEVE HILL