Detective Olander sat down next to his partner, Adelray. Adelray had fire-red hair cut cropped to their shoulder, while Olander had black hair cropped close to his hair. Adelray was young; Olander was not as young.
“Well?” Adam’s mother sat with her arms folded. A criminal defense lawyer, She had driven down to the rink and yelled at the detectives for approaching her son without her knowledge.
“Mom, it’s okay,” Adam said. He’d been given no time to shower, so his hair was slicked close to his head and his body odor was trapped in the small interrogation room. “I didn’t do anything wrong.”
“We hope not,” Adelray said.
Olander placed a folder on the table. He opened it, pulled out some pictures and slid them in front of Adam. One was a headshot of a boy Adam’s age.
It was Marcus, the goaltender from Ridgehigh, their rival school.
Adam flitted his eyes upward. “Yeah I know him. Every hockey player here does. We’ve all either played together or against each other.”
“Surely you can’t be implicating my son in whatever this is,” his mother flicked the mugshot photograph.
Adelray took it back. “Of course not,’ they said.
“We are however,” Olander said, reaching back into the folder, concerned about this.” He pulled out three more photos and slid them to Adam.
It was hard to tell that any of these pictures were of Marcus. Adam leaned in closer, then grabbed the pictures and threw them in the direction of the detectives. He leaned under the table, grabbed the trash can and threw up.
“Surely you can’t be serious to show a child this?” His mother said.
“Child?” Adelray raised an eyebrow. “Adam is what, 17? Hardly what I would call a child.”
“This is bullshit,” she said. “My son and I are leaving. Can’t you see how disgusted he is by these?” She picked up the pictures. “This is horrible. But clearly my son is as shocked as I’m sure you are.”
“Of course,” Adelray said, gathering the pictures and putting them back in the folder. “We can see he is clearly… upset.”
His mother shook his head as she leaned over and patted Adam’s back. Come on honey, let’s go home.”
“Before you do,” Olander said. “We have to ask your son a question.”
“I think you’ve used up your questions,” she said.
“Why,” Adelray said, ignoring his mother, “were you the last person to see Marcus alive?”