Secret of the Sevens (23 page)

He points toward the doorway. “For now, we have to focus on the detectives waiting to interview you. You're going to need an alibi for last night. Could you say you were with Jose?”

“I already told my housebrothers I was at the library.”

“Damn.” Boyle sighs. “I guess we'll have to make that work somehow. Just be extra careful from here on out. I'm assuming that they'll try to plant evidence on you too.”

“I took it already!” I tell him. “I hid it last night.” In the madness of the morning, I'd forgotten all about it. “When I was coming up the steps, I heard Iman and Cameron talking inside the mausoleum. They must have come straight from beating up Kollin. They were leaving the evidence there for Kane, so he could plant it in my locker later. When they left, I tossed all of it down the stairs so they couldn't use it against me.”

“Excellent.” He exhales loudly. “Now we just have to get through this interrogation.” He opens the door and guides me down the hallway again, navigating me by my forearm.

The office is bustling with students and teachers when we walk in. Boyle points to his door and barks, “Get in there. Now!”

He grabs his messages and tells his secretary, “Rhonda, can you call down Emily Dombrose for a meeting?” She nods and Boyle follows me into his office, where two officers are waiting.

A tall, pale detective stands in one corner. His eyes cover me like a CT scan.

Boyle slams the door shut. “This is Talan Michaels,” he says. “If you're pressing charges, I'll need to call his guardians so he can retain an attorney.”

“Not necessary,” the second officer says. He's short and chubby, sort of grandfatherly, with an out-of-place smile. “We're simply gathering information. No need for an attorney yet.” My guess is he's the good-cop half of this good-cop/bad-cop team.

“There were a number of tips called in last night and this morning. Too many to ignore.” Bad Cop glowers at me. “All of them reported an altercation yesterday between Mr. Michaels and Kollin LeBeau. Is that true, Mr. Michaels?”

“Kollin and I have never gotten along, but I'd never physically hurt him.”

“Never? Because every caller mentioned you slamming his head into a locker and threatening him.”

“We were pushing each other around. It wasn't a big deal. It's not the same as beating someone with a metal rod.”

“How did you know about the metal rod?” Bad Cop says.

Boyle's face cringes behind the officer. Another boner move thanks to my stupid mouth.

“I heard about it this morning. Everyone's talking about this.”

“It's funny they knew that fact when it hadn't been released.”

“Well, I'm sure the person who did it knew it. He obviously let it slip.”

The cop's eyes close in on mine. “That's what I was thinking.”

Good Cop intervenes. “Look at me, Talan.” His voice goes all soft and understanding. “We have a boy who could die any minute. Maybe the person who did it didn't mean for it to be that bad. Maybe he was pressured by gang members, or it was committed in anger, or accidentally. We have no way of helping that person unless he comes forward and confesses what happened. If he were to share what he knew … well, we could make things easier for him.”

“I don't know what you're talking about. I don't know of any gangs at Singer.”

Good cop makes a disappointed-grandpa sigh. “We believe there are students starting a gang based on the legend of the Sevens. The vandalism, the assault—these are all typical gang behaviors.”

“I wouldn't know.”

“Where were you last night at 8:00?”

“You said you were gathering information,” Boyle interrupts. “But it sounds like you're interrogating Mr. Michaels. If that's the case, then I'm obligated to obtain legal counsel for him.”

Bad Cop muscles over to Boyle. “We keep trying to
interview students here, and you keep interfering. What's the problem, Headmaster?”

“The problem is, I don't want Singer School sued for infringing on Mr. Michael's rights to due process. I'm wondering why you're not worried about that too.”

Good Cop changes the subject. “Let's try this another way. Did Mr. LeBeau have any enemies?”

“I wouldn't know. We weren't friends.”

“Would someone have reason to dislike him or want him out of the picture?”

“I wouldn't know,” I repeat. “We weren't friends.”

“But you're friends with his girlfriend, Delaney Shanahan, aren't you?”

I pause to keep my composure. “She's my housesister.”

There's a knock on the door that rescues me. “Excuse me for a minute,” Boyle says.

He opens the door and his secretary pops her head in. “Sorry to interrupt, but Mr. Kane is calling from his car. He says if you don't pick up immediately, he'll be over in twenty minutes to fire our whole staff.”

“Just what I need.” Boyle rolls his eyes. “Thank you, Rhonda.”

He closes the door and clicks the phone on. “You're on speakerphone, Stephen. We're in the middle of questioning Talan Michaels. Can this wait?”

“No, it can't. I don't like what's happening at my alma mater. Have they arrested that hoodlum yet?”

I clench and unclench my fists.

“They're just questioning him, Stephen.”

“Is Officer Lynch there? Paul, are you there?” Kane calls out over the speaker.

“Hi, Stephen,” Bad Cop replies. “Yes, we're in the process of investigating last night's assault.”

“Did the headmaster inform you about Mr. Michaels' angry outburst that disrupted an entire assembly earlier this year?”

“I hardly think that's relevant,” Boyle murmurs.

“Is that you, Matthew?” Kane says. “And here I thought we were on the same page about aggressively prosecuting the students destroying our school.” Kane's voice grows more and more irate. “I'm beginning to seriously question your intentions here. Not to mention your ability to maintain the safety and welfare of the students.”

“I represent
all
the students, Stephen. There's protocol to consider. The police are perfectly capable of uncovering the truth within the guidelines of the law. I have no intention of interfering in their investigation.”

“Matthew, I'm disappointed you haven't been more … helpful in your pursuit of the guilty parties.”

“Maybe I don't see the benefit in disregarding due process to indict someone. I'm sure the officers would agree.”

“Is that right?” Kane's reply is edgy as a machete. “I see how it is,” he says. “Lynch?”

“Right here,” Bad Cop says.

“I'd like you to call me with an update when you're done.”

Boyle clicks the phone off.

Good Cop places his hand on my arm. “Talan, I'm going to ask you once. Did you attack Kollin LeBeau last night?”

“No.”

“Did you have any reason to want to hurt him? Gang pressure or rivalry or pent-up anger?”

“No.”

The cop sits back in his chair.

Boyle crosses his arms. “I'm no detective, but several things come to mind here. How does a kid like Talan, who can't leave campus, get access to spray paint? Why would a senior who practically
lives
for football want to destroy the stadium mid-season? And if there was gang involvement, wouldn't they be smart enough to have worked out alibis with each other? Maybe these are things you all should be considering.”

It takes all I've got to keep my voice calm. “Can I go now?”

“Gentlemen, I'm going to have to ask you to leave,” Boyle says to the cops. “I already wasted yesterday morning hassling Emily Dombrose based on nothing but a malicious anonymous tip. I'm already behind on paperwork from that issue, plus I've got meetings with contractors this afternoon to repair the statue and stadium.”

Lynch glares at Boyle. “Would you have any problem with us checking his locker?”

Boyle looks at me.

“That's fine,” I say. “It's number 1515.”

“Okay then.” Boyle stands and opens the door for the officers. “Rhonda, can you get the master key and open Talan's locker for the detectives? When they're satisfied, please show them out.”

She types a code on a security safe and pulls out a key. The officers follow her into the hall. When they're out of sight, I tug Boyle back into his office and shut the door.

The words rush out of my mouth. “What did you say to your secretary about a master key?”

“I had her get it to open your locker. It's easier than looking up and remembering the combination. That's how I've been leaving you your clues.”

“I know how the Pillars planted stuff in Emily's locker yesterday. Last night, I heard Moore tell Kabal that Kane had a master key. They must have stolen it to plant the evidence in Emily and my lockers.”

“But there's only one key, and it's locked up.”

“Who has the code?”

“Rhonda, me, and a couple teachers who have authority to act in our absence—Caesar Solomon and Julie Bennett.”

“Would either of them have any reason to help the Pillars?”

“I doubt it. Ms. Bennett came to me privately and protested the new Pillar choices. And Professor Solomon is disgusted by the way Kane is interfering with our school.” He pauses and says in a lowered voice. “Unless Professor Solomon slipped and gave it out in a … weak moment.”

“What do you mean?”

“Consider this part of your vow of secrecy,” Boyle says. “Professor Solomon is … a bit fond of alcohol. I've let him stay on at Singer because it's never affected his job performance during the day. But Carmine Rathbone once warned me that alcohol causes Caesar to do careless things. Maybe he let the code slip to Stephen Kane or the Pillars when he was under the influence. That's something I'll need to look into. For now, I better change the passcode.”

I follow him out to the front desk, where he plays with the keypad on the safe. He opens the safe door just as Rhonda returns. “Did you see our friends out?”

“I did,” she answers. “You never saw two more disappointed people when they didn't find anything. Are we going to have to do this for every student they get a tip on?”

“I hope not,” Boyle says. “Here, let me put that back.” He takes the master key and locks it inside the safe. “Can you write Talan a pass to get back to class?”

She hands me a slip and I go to get my backpack from Boyle's office.

I hear Boyle ask, “Did you call Emily Dombrose down?”

“She should be here any minute,” Rhonda says. “What are you meeting for this time?”

Boyle stumbles over his words. “I, mmm … why do you ask?”

“Just wondered.” Then she adds in a hushed voice, “Do you think those two are behind the gang violence?”

“No!” He says it so loud, everyone turns. Boyle rubs his neck and says more calmly, “I assure you, there is no gang violence at Singer School.”

“No gang violence, huh?” Stephen Kane storms through the door and pounds his fist on the counter.

I duck behind the shelves in the alcove to listen.

“I assure you, there
is
gang violence,” Kane rants, “whether you are willing to confront it or not.”

Boyle gives him a cool glare. “The police will determine who's behind the crimes and handle them appropriately.”

“It sounds like they're trying but you keep interfering.”

Boyle lowers his voice. “How dare you come into my office and criticize me in front of my staff. I'm following procedure here. I'm not going to do something that puts this school into legal jeopardy.”

“You should be more concerned with your students' safety, Matthew, not to mention the property damage and bad press for this school and our company. I know I am. In fact, I've called an emergency board meeting to discuss it on Thursday.”

“What?”

“You heard me. You know that I've had changes in mind for some time. I've decided to bring them up for a board vote.”

“But that's too fast,” Boyle says.

“This school is in dire straits. I can't believe you're so lackadaisical about the welfare of your students.”

“How dare you say that! I think you better leave.”

Kane draws his head back like a serpent poised for attack. “I thought you were on my team,” he says.

The whole office is watching now, none of them realizing the undertones to what he says.

“It's obvious I can't count on you in my endeavors to improve Singer School,” Kane says. “You aren't protecting the well-being or the safety of our students.”

“I'm done listening to your drivel, Mr. Kane.”

Emily walks in right in the middle of the storm.

“Emily, please come in,” Boyle says. She marches past him into his office.

“You have time for this vandal and not for the CEO of Singer Enterprises?”

“That's exactly right,” Boyle says, slamming the door in Kane's face.

I've never seen Headmaster Boyle lose it like that. It was awesome. But I can't help thinking he's said too much too. He gave his hand away.

We really are alike.

Forty-two

The rest of the day drags like a dead body. My mind is caught up in one thing—keeping Laney and my friends safe. It's the only thing I care about until 3:18 p.m., when I trudge up the driveway of my house.

“Talan!”

I'm afraid to look. Afraid there's a fist or threat or egg about to be hurled at me.

“Talan!” The voice is younger. And surprisingly friendly.

“Talan!” There's a tug on my hand and I look down and see Jack Dominguez grinning up at me. I didn't recognize his voice, probably because he didn't say a word to me the first time we met. Now he's all breathless and animated. He squeezes my legs and says, “My best friend Talan is here!”

Three little boys his age run up next to him, but he says, “I need to talk to Talan. You go and save me a swing.” They pout a second, and he orders them, “Go! I'll come, I promise.”

They shuffle off to the park without him, bummed that they lost their ringleader.

I crouch down to his eye level. “How's it going, my man?”

He returns my high five and says, “Greaaat!”

“So you liking it here?” His head bobs with these huge nods. “I told you, didn't I?”

He squeezes my arm with all he's got and nods some more, his face bursting into a smile. I can't help ask, “So what's the best part?”

He signals for me to lean close and whispers something in my ear.

“What?” I laugh. “I couldn't hear you, buddy.”

He cups his mouth to my ear. “No one hits me here.” He stares up at me with round eyes. Then he shakes his head in case I need convincing. “No one!” he repeats.

He grabs my bicep and kisses the exact spot where my T scar is buried under three layers of clothing. The irony chills me.

For the first time since lunch, thoughts of Laney are replaced by something even more important: I have
three
days to find that TPD.

I
have
to find that TPD.