The Forgotten

“So the universities wouldn’t know—”

“Forget about college right now!” Carter snapped.

“How can I forget about college, Dad!” Ernesto exploded. “Other than sex, college is all I ever think about. Because it’s all you and Mom ever think about!”

7 (#u0f746847-02e6-5495-8ba5-4f5ec129c6fa)

The prep school supplied lots of perks, among them the faculty lounge. It was set up like a café in a bookstore with tables, chairs, a few comfy sofas, and several computer stations, allowing teachers to go on-line and check their E-mail. Plenty of reading material—novels, nonfiction, magazines, and papers—sat on the built-in shelves that lined the walls. A few excellent pieces of student artwork were displayed. The biggest benefit, in Decker’s mind, was the in-house laundry service. When Dr. Dahl saw him gaping at the counter, she explained that the faculty worked long hours. It was the least they could do.

Decker had to strain to hear her because, as they walked, Ernesto was sandwiched between them. He followed the administrator through the area, ignoring the steely looks of those who occupied the space. He said, “A place that does the wash. What’s your starting salary?”

The woman actually cracked a smile. “It’s on the high side because all of our teachers have postcollege education.”

An obvious slap in the face meant to put him in his place. Decker just shrugged. “I’m an attorney. Does that count?”

She slowed, giving him a quick glance. “You’re an attorney?”

“Once upon a time.”

“You actually passed the bar?”

“Now you’re getting insulting.”

She blushed. “I didn’t mean—”

“Yes, I passed the bar,” Decker said.

Gently, Jaime guided Ernesto. “This way.”

The annex was a blip of a room off the lounge. It was paneled, cozy, and held two tables, each with a computer, and several couches. It also had its own private rest rooms, which Decker found very impressive. They had interrupted a couple involved in a deep conversation. The young blond woman stood up, red-faced and red-eyed, smiling nervously at Dr. Dahl. The man—a bit older, in his thirties—remained on the couch, trying to adopt a casual demeanor, raking his hair with his fingers.

Jaime said, “We need the room, Brent.”

Slowly, the man got up. “Sure. Of course.” He walked out with the blond woman, a healthy distance between them.

Jaime tried to stifle a sigh. To Decker, she said, “Can I get you some coffee?”

“How about some water for the both of us?”

Ernesto said, “I’m fine.”

“I’ll bring some in, just in case.” Jaime left.

“Where do I sit?”

“Anywhere you want,” Decker answered.

The teen looked around, deciding on the couch. “Are you really an attorney?”

“Yes.”

“Why are you a cop then?” Ernesto looked down. “Not that it’s any of my business.”

“I like the job.” Decker took out his notebook.

Ernesto said, “I saw this documentary once … about cops. Once they retire, they have a hard time readjusting to the civilian world. That’s what they call it, right?” He looked to Decker for confirmation, but Decker didn’t react. “Anyway, the moderator or narrator said something about cops being adrenaline junkies … that the regular world was a boring place compared to what they were used to. A high percentage of them commit suicide. Because they’ve been hooked on the adrenaline like others get hooked on drugs.”

Decker said, “Are you hooked on drugs?”

Ernesto shrugged. “Nah. Drugs are just for recreation. Something to do because the parties are so damn boring.”

“Is that why you vandalized the synagogue? Because you were bored?”

Jaime Dahl came back in the room with a bottle of Evian and two glasses. “Anything else?”

“No, thank you.” Decker couldn’t keep the edge off his voice. He had wanted to say, Leave us the hell alone.

Jaime picked up on it. “I’ll be waiting in the lounge.”

“Where are my parents?” Ernesto asked her.

“With Dr. Williams.”

“Is Mr. Melrose there, too?”

“Yes.”

Decker said, “Any time you want to stop and consult your parents or lawyer, just let me know.”

Ernesto took a deep breath and let it out. “I’m all right. I can handle myself.”

No one spoke. Jaime finally said, “I’ll be going, then.”

Decker smiled. He even kept the smile after she closed the door, as he waited for the kid to speak. He tried to make eye contact. It lasted for a few seconds, then Ernesto’s gaze fell on other things. The computers’ screen savers, the candy machine, the landscape on the wall. His posture was casual, but the vein in the kid’s temple was pulsating, his jaw taut and bulging. He didn’t appear the least bit cocky. On the contrary, Ernesto was worried … troubled.

“Actually, this is a good thing.”

“What is?” Decker asked.

“You and me here. I don’t want my parents or their lawyer to hear the full details of what happened.”

“Their lawyer is your lawyer. You’re going to have to tell him.”

“I will, but he doesn’t have to hear the details, either. I mean he needs details, but he doesn’t need …” Ernesto groped for the words.

“Explicit details?” Decker tried.

“Yeah. Exactly. I’ll tell you and maybe you can soften it around the edges.”