chapter fifteen: Mrs. Hazelton tries to take Conner and Paisley to the police station so they can confess--but they escape.
Is the Reverend Dead?
Chapter Sixteen
Arthur puts the key in the slot but doesn’t start the car. “Let me get this straight. You’re intending to take Conner to the police station.”
“It’s not like we have a choice. He told me he killed the R—.”
“How?”
“They made a device that remotely turns off pacemakers. They tested it the day the Revered fell. They killed—.”
“Helen stop saying that. You’re making a pronouncement that isn’t based on any proof.”
“They told me that they—.”
“I can’t believe that you want our grandson to confess to committing this murder.”
“He didn’t mean to. Knowing that, understanding that, the police will go easy on him. It was all that Paisley’s fault. And science. Science is evil.”
“The police may, but what about the other people on this island? If Conner walks into the police station… If he confesses to this… They’ll judge him. And that judgment will last for the rest of his life. To them, he’ll always be a murderer. If he wants any peace at all, he’ll have to leave. He’ll be ostracized for something he may not have done.”
“He knows he’s guilty. Why else would he have run?”
“Feeling guilty and actually being guilty are two separate things.”
“And you think we should let him run. What do you think will happen when Officer Boyd solves this murder? When he finds out what happened, he’ll come looking for Conner. If he catches Conner running, then he’ll think that Conner is guilty. But if, on the other hand, Conner co-operates from the start, things will be so much better for him.”
“I think we should leave Conner…. Leave this all alone and let Officer Boyd find the real murderer. If there even is one.”
“What do you mean by that? I told you what I saw. How can you—?”
Arthur pushes open the car door.
“Where are you going?”
Arthur doesn’t say anything, he doesn’t turn around, he just heads in the direction of the house.
I crawl out of the passenger seat, walk around the front of the car and climb into the driver’s seat. Someone has to do what’s right.
My bad hip makes it impossible for me to twist my body to look out the back window. So I don’t back out of the driveway. I drive out. I pass the house. Arthur bangs on the window and points at me. He still thinks he can make me change my mind. I just keep driving. He waves two hands, points with two fingers. I pay him no heed.
Most roads on Plumper Island eventually lead to the ferry. The road from our house is one of the shortest routes. The ferry isn’t due to dock for a while yet. I’ll find my grandson.
I pass a truck. The driver honks. I pass a youngish woman walking her dog. She waves. I had no idea I was this popular.
The ferry terminal parking lot is full. So I park along the side of the road. I climb out of the car and Paisley rolls right past me on her roller skates—down the hill to the ticket booth. She couldn’t have been that far behind me. I wonder why I didn’t see her on the road.
“Granny.” That’s Conner’s voice. “Granny, you have to help me. Granny, please.”
Where is he? I walk in the direction of his voice; I walk to the back of the car. There he is struggling to undo the clasp that attaches him to the car. That’s why I didn’t see Paisley on the road. I was pulling them.
I don’t lift a finger to help him. “I thought you wanted to talk to Officer Boyd.”
“I did.” He tugs harder on the clasp. “But Paisley said that he wouldn’t understand. She said all he wants to do is solve the case and throw someone in jail.” He sniffs like he’s near tears. “She said he won’t care if we rot in there, for all the trouble we’ve caused him—not just with the Reverend but also with breaking and entering and… I mean with the houses we’ve been visiting. And… And… And she said that this was a good way for him to get rid of us. He’d just lock us up and walk away. We’d be in jail for the rest of our lives. Granny. Granny, please. I can’t go to jail. I can’t...” He looks so scared. He’s trembling. My dear, darling grandson. I can’t… I just can’t…
I undo the clasp.
“Thanks, Gran.” He rolls away.
The hill is too steep; he’s going too fast.
“Be careful, Conner.” I cringe.
Paisley’s waiting for him at the ticket booth. He wraps his arms around her waist and she giggles like the floozy she is. Conner is a good boy. This whole mess is her fault.
Are you following me?
