I sat in an interrogation room at Big Bear’s sheriff station in shorts and a t-shirt. I rarely wore shorts, which was why they were the only clean thing I had left up here. My jeans from last night were in a soggy ball at the bottom of my duffel like buried evidence. I looked like a grown man who’d borrowed a camper’s clothes.

My hands in my lap, I absentmindedly fidgeted with the bracelet Lake had made me. I wasn’t used to having things on my hands or wrists. She played with hers when she was uneasy, but I had no reason to be nervous. From what Gary’d told me, whatever the hell the cops wanted had nothing to do with me. I took comfort in that, but it wasn’t as if I were exactly innocent. And that made me sweat. I’d gotten carried away with Lake in the truck. I still tasted watermelon on my lips. Smelled the dampness of the truck’s cab. Heard the drumbeat of the music. What if they sensed that fear on me?

Two men entered the small room, an older man with a gut that hung over his belt, and a tall thin one in a suit. Neither was the cop from last night, and I wasn’t sure if that was good or bad. He’d turned out to be all right. He’d made me walk in a straight line, and when it was apparent I was sober, we’d talked about my plans to join the force while he’d jumped the truck’s battery.

“Morning, Mr. Sutter,” said the burly man in uniform. “I’m Officer Vermont, and this is my colleague, Detective Krout.”

I shook both their hands. “I’ll be honest,” I said, “I don’t know why I’m here.”

“We’ll get to that,” he said. “Need anything before we start? Water? Coffee?”

“Sure.” What I wanted most was a cigarette. My head hurt all over from lack of sleep and now this. The bracelet felt like no more than a hair on my wrist, but I hadn’t forgotten it was there. This was a special circumstance, though. I’d quit tomorrow. “Any chance of me getting a smoke?”

Vermont laughed as Krout stood at a table against the wall, separating paper cups by a coffee urn. “This isn’t a TV show, son. But nice try.”

The gray, concrete room, lit by a single lamp, did look a little like a set. Not to mention short-and-fat and tall-and-skinny would’ve made a fine pair for a primetime courtroom comedy. I kept it to myself. I respected the police. They might have the wrong guy, but they were just doing their jobs.

Krout set three waters and coffees on the table. My mouth had gone tacky from my cravings, so I went for water.

“Do you have any guesses?” Krout asked. It was the first thing he’d said.

I swallowed my water in one gulp and set the cup down. “About?”

“Why you’re here.”

“Gary relayed what you told him.” Gary had convinced the cops to wait at the gate for me, their presence upsetting the kids. “There was some kind of robbery last night?”

“A house in town, nice, upstanding folks,” Vermont said. “We just have a few routine questions for you, but it’s our duty to go over your rights.”

I sipped coffee as he read my Miranda rights. I had nothing to worry about, and the longer the process went on, the more this became a thing. I wiped my mouth with my sleeve. “I’m good. We can continue.”

“For the record, please state your name, age, and occupation.”

“Manning Raymond Sutter. Age twenty-three. Camp counselor, construction worker, and anything else that pays the bills.”

“Where are you based?”

“Long Beach, California.”

The detective made notes in his folder. “Did you grow up there?”

“No. Pasadena.”

“Have any family in California?”

“My mom’s still in Pasadena I think.”

“What about your dad?”

I wiped my temple, my hairline getting hot. “I’m not sure. Last I heard, he was transferred to Pelican Bay, but that was a while ago.”

Krout looked up at that. “Penitentiary? What for?”

Having a dad in prison probably didn’t look so good. Fucking me over from afar, no surprise there. “Assault.”

“I see.” Detective Krout’s pen continued to scrawl across the page. “Tell us about your evening.”

I blew out a breath. It was simple, really. At least, what they’d know of it. “I was at camp most of the night. We ran out of alcohol, so since I was the only sober one, I was volunteered to do a run. I went into town, got some, and went back to the campsite.”

“What time did you leave?”

“I’d say just before ten.”

“And you went right back after you got the alcohol?” Krout asked. “Because that’s not what we heard.”

That caught me off guard, that they’d heard anything. I swallowed to buy myself a second, then remembered the officer from last night. Of course they knew I didn’t go straight back. I’d been with one of their own. “Yeah. No. I had some car trouble so it took a little longer.”

“Nobody seems to know what time you returned. According to one source, you said you’d be right back, but by the time your peers went to sleep at one in the morning, you still hadn’t returned. We figure, being generous, it’s half an hour into town and half an hour back. If you left just after ten, you should’ve been back well before midnight.”

“Like I said, I had car trouble. It wasn’t my truck, believe me, that hunk of metal had its problems. You can go take a look. Better yet, ask your officer.”

Both men’s eyebrows dropped. “What officer?”

Were they fucking with me? There was no way they didn’t already know. How else had they pegged me as a suspect? “I forget his last name. He found me on the side of the road, made sure I wasn’t drinking and driving, then gave me a jump.”

Krout sat back in his seat with a sigh. “I didn’t see any record of it.”

I shrugged. “Maybe because there was nothing to say. I wasn’t doing anything wrong.” I had the urge to swallow again, but I worried they’d read into that. I resisted and ended up coughing. “Can I get some water?”

Vermont and Krout exchanged a look. “Was Anderson on duty last night?” Krout asked him.

“Don’t know off the top of my head, but he’s most likely sleeping right now.” He turned to me. “We’ll be sure to talk to Officer Anderson. What was the truck you were driving?”

“Ford clunker. Seventy-nine, I think. It belongs to—Vern. You know him? He works at the camp.”

Vermont ignored me. “Color?”

“White.”

“And where’d you stop for alcohol?”

“The liquor store was closed so I tried a bar. The bartender, or maybe it was the owner—he sold me something from the back.”

“And that’s it? From there, you headed back and the truck broke down?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Where was that?”

“About a mile from camp.”

Vermont tapped the end of his pen on his notepad, nodding. Nobody spoke for a few moments. Krout checked his watch and got me a refill that I immediately downed.

“Thing is, Mr. Sutter,” Vermont said, “we have two witnesses placing your vehicle in the neighborhood where the crime occurred, at the time it occurred. Not too far from Phil’s bar. But I can’t think of no reason you should’ve been near that residence. It’s not on the way back to camp.”

Fuck. It’d been such a blip in time, I hadn’t even really thought about our drive through the neighborhood. Lake popped into my head first. She’d hung out the window, and I’d let her, like a fucking idiot. I’d been too caught up in her, in our last night together. Did they know about her? As long as they didn’t, I was fine. I hadn’t done anything wrong. I shifted in the plastic chair, suddenly aware of how hard it was. “I went for a drive. Never been to the area, so I was curious.”

The men just stared at me. It was about the truth, though. “Why didn’t you mention it?” Vermont asked.

“Guess I forgot.”

Vermont blew out a sigh, looking over his notepad. “Two different neighbors say they spotted a loud, white truck outside their houses. Same plates as yours. Couldn’ta been driving more than ten miles an hour. With the headlights out. To me, that sounds like someone casing the neighborhood.”

The lamp over our heads got brighter. I willed my heart rate to slow down; I needed my wits about me. Sitting up a little straighter, I said, “I don’t really have a good explanation for that. I just like that time of night. The peace. Stars.”

“Not peaceful up at camp, smack in the middle of the woods?” Krout asked, his voice a little harder, wryer. “Can’t see the stars up there where it’s dark? Had to go looking for it in town?”

I massaged my face. “It looks bad, I agree, but it’s not like that. I just—there are kids everywhere up there, I needed some time to myself. I work construction. I’m not—not used to being around all those kids.” The officers let me ramble, probably hoping I’d trip myself up. I took a breath. “They say anything else?”

“Like what?”

I shook my head. I just needed to know about Lake. If anyone’d seen her. “Just trying to figure out—I mean, I didn’t do anything wrong. I didn’t. You can search the truck. My cabin. All I brought up here with me was a bag, not like I could fit any stolen goods in it. What’d the robber take?”

Vermont looked at Krout. “Nothing. He was interrupted. The woman who caught him described him as tall with dark hair and clothes.”

“So then it wasn’t actually a crime?”

“Of course it was,” Krout said. “Someone came into a family’s home and confronted the wife. Her kids were there. What we have to figure out is who and why.”

I knew from my criminal justice class that first-degree robbery was a felony, and a felony charge could fuck me long after I served time. “Was anyone hurt?”

“Fortunately not. The woman wrestled her wallet from him and he ran. She’s all right. He knew enough to pick a lock. No major damage done. You know how to pick a lock?”

“No.” Of course I did, for fuck’s sake. My breathing shallowed. I needed more water, but it didn’t look like I was getting a refill. “Can I get an aspirin or something?”

“In a minute.” Krout looked over his notes. “Vermont’s niece was at Phil’s, that bar you visited last night. She ID’ed a tall, dark-haired man and your vehicle, so we know you were there.”

I waited for the bomb to drop. Who was the girl in your car? I’d fucked up huge. Lake was innocent. Last night, I’d made some mistakes. I hadn’t been thinking straight. Now, in the light of day, I saw how bad it was. Fooling around with her could have lasting effects on her. If they brought her in, it would traumatize her. People would talk. Her bright future could be tarnished. Her dad, fuck, he would fucking murder me, and who knew what kind of emotional punishment he’d put Lake through.

“We haven’t spoken to Phil over at the bar yet,” Krout continued, “but we’ll get to that. I assume he’ll remember you. Tall. Dark hair.”

I nodded mindlessly. Just say it. Just ask me who she was. I didn’t know how I’d answer, but the anticipation was killing me.

Krout straightened his file on the table. “That’s all I got for the moment. We’ll have to keep you here, though. We’re vetting some other suspects, then we’ll need you for a line-up.”

I didn’t know what to feel. There were other suspects—that was good. Lake hadn’t been mentioned. Also good. But I was too apprehensive to feel relieved; it didn’t seem like they believed me.

“We go home today,” I said. “They’re packing up the buses as we speak.”

“Not much we can do about it, Mr. Sutter,” Vermont said.

It’s Manning, I wanted to say. Mr. Sutter was my piece-of-shit dad who was in prison for a real, actual crime, and whom I wanted nothing to do with. “I didn’t do this,” I said. “I swear.”

“If that’s true, then it’ll work itself out,” Vermont replied automatically, as if he’d heard it a thousand times before. “In the meantime, we’ll confirm your story with the officer on duty last night. Is there anyone else we should talk to? Anyone who saw you come or go? Maybe vouch for your whereabouts?”

Lake. She was the only one who knew where I was last night. That I was innocent—at least of what they were accusing. But there was no way in hell, none, I’d be bringing her into this. I couldn’t put her through it, and I was pretty sure it’d do more harm than good anyway.

I swallowed for what felt like the millionth time in an hour. My throat was raw. “I think I’d like to speak to a lawyer.”