Chapter 37: The Interview

E L L I E

"Sit down, Ms. Sandberg."

Dr. Carlyle sits behind a mahogany desk, flanked on either side by two unfamiliar faces.

"This is Dr. Tanaka from the Medical Examiner's office," he explains, indicating the man on his left, dressed in a blue oxford shirt and tie. "And Ms. Peterson here is a clinical social worker trained in trauma and grief counseling."

"OK," I reply, slipping into the chair facing them. The social worker smiles at my warmly, but it doesn't do much to ease the tension in my throat.

"How are you coping with all of this, Eleanor?"

Eleanor.

The sound of that name fills the room like a gun shot. My pulse was already uncomfortably fast but now it's thundering. The social worker must see the surprise flash across my face because she glances sideways to Dr. Carlyle.

"Ellie," he corrects, templing his fingers on the desk. "I believe Ms. Sandberg prefers to go by Ellie."

I nod quickly and look down at my lap to cover my unease. "That's fine. I answer to whatever." My voice sounds funny. Distant and strained. "And I'm coping OK, I guess," I add in answer to the original question. "I wasn't really friends with—with her."

"You were group members, though," Dr. Carlyle replies. "You were collaborating on a project."

I can't read on the expression on his face. He looks blank, like a poker player concealing his hand. I'm outnumbered in this room – facing questions from three adults – and I can't tell if he's an ally or an adversary.

The uncertainty isn't doing much to settle my nerves. I stuff my fingers under my thighs to hide their trembling.

"Yes—I mean, technically, we were—we were a four-person group. Reese, Eleanor, Maddox, and me. But not really. I mean—I didn't—She and I—" I'm stammering badly, and I cut myself off in mid-sentence, searching for words. "She and Reese were partners. I was working with Maddox on a separate part of the project."

Dr. Carlyle seems to accept this explanation. He turns in his chair toward the man beside him, offering him the floor.

"OK, Ellie," Dr. Tanaka begins. "I'm here gathering information to help determine the decedent's cause and manner of death. I just have a few questions that you might be able to help with."

Something about this whole interview doesn't sit right. Why do I have the strongest feeling that I'm being questioned as a suspect? This man is some kind of doctor, not a policeman, but that doesn't change the fact that he's investigating everybody here at Winthrop—including me. I swallow hard and look for reassurance to the other two adults

The social worker lady seems to read my thoughts. "You're not in any trouble, Ellie. Dr. Tanaka is talking to every student in the program."

"Shouldn't my parents be here?"

"That's why Dr. Carlyle and I are here," she responds. She has a folder on the desk in front of her, and she opens it to show me. I see my name on a form, with my mother's signature at the bottom. "Your parents authorized Winthrop Academy to act in loco parentis for the duration of the program."

My eyes go to each one of them in turn. Dr. Carlyle looks grave, but Ms. Peterson casts me a maternal smile. "Go ahead, dear. It's all right."

I force a deep breath. I don't know why I'm so nervous. I haven't done anything wrong. I had nothing whatsoever to do with the Eleanor's fall. The fact is, I never even had a conversation with the girl. For the past four weeks, she made a point never to direct a single word in my direction. Only sullen glares and high-handed disdain.

Dr. Tanaka picks up a pen and clears his throat. "When was the last time you saw the deceased?"

"Friday, in the main Assembly Hall." I glance toward Dr. Carlyle. "It was just after you came to look over our progress. Eleanor and Reese showed up together, right after you left."

The medical examiner's pen glints in the lamp light as he jots down notes on a yellow legal pad. "How would you describe Ms. Winthrop's mood?"

I blow out my cheeks, picturing Eleanor's face as she stood there glaring at us from the hall's double doors. Her mood? Not happy. That's for sure. "I guess she seemed...annoyed."

"Did she say what she was annoyed about?"

"Maddox could tell you better. Or Reese. I honestly didn't know her very well."

"Yes." Dr. Tanaka doesn't look up from his page. "We've already spoken with Mr. Cruz and Ms. Kemp at some length."

I don't know why those words make my fingers clench beneath my thighs. Maddox wouldn't say anything bad about me, I don't think...but Reese is a different story. How much did she tell them?

Distance = -1...

You did it on purpose. Didn't you?...

You wanted her out of the way? Well, you got your wish...

I didn't know how to defend myself against those texted accusations, but it occurs to me now that I have do have an answer. Of course! I sit up straighter' forcing my clenched fingers to unfurl. That distance parameter couldn't have anything to do with Eleanor's fall. My hazard alert program had to be downloaded and installed on a user's visor before it would do anything. Maddox and I were planning to push an update to everyone in the program before the Maker Fair demo, but so far it had only been installed on one visor. Not Eleanor's. Mine.

The medical examiner stops jotting notes. He leans forward to retrieve something from the briefcase that sits on the floor at his feet. A clear plastic envelope thunks down on the desk between us.

EVIDENCE

My stomach twists at the sight of it.

"Do you recognize this item?" he asks.

I nod in confirmation, staring at the back of his legal pad. He has it propped up so that I can't see what he's writing, but it occurs to me that my relief may have been premature. Something about the way he asked that makes my breath catch in my throat.

"It's an Insight Visor," I say softly.

"This was found by police divers near the location of the decedent's body. Do you have any idea how it got there?"

"I guess she must have been wearing it when she—when she—"

I stop, unable to complete my sentence. My eyes dart to the visor once again. Someone has applied a neon-orange sticker to the inside of the frames, just beside the serial number...

Dr. Tanaka follows my gaze. He points toward the serial number with the capped end of his pen. "Yes, Ms. Kemp turned over the user data she'd collected. This serial number was not originally assigned to Eleanor Winthrop. Do you know anything about that?"

I shake my head, unable to speak.

"It turns out that this visor was assigned to you, Eleanor Sandberg, on July 1. My colleagues were also able to lift some latent fingerprints from it that I can only imagine belong to you as well."

Dr. Carlyle's face finally registers a discernible emotion. His mouth drops open and his eyebrows rise behind the wire frames of his glasses.

My hand rise to my throat, and I tug at my shirt collar. Why is this room so hot? Stiflingly hot... The three adults stare at me, awaiting my explanation, and their gazes feel like heat lamps, searing me with the intensity of their suspicions.

I bite my lip and look down at my knees. I'm way too tangled up in this business. Way too close for comfort.

"Go ahead, Ellie," the social worker prompts me. "Do you have any explanation?"

What exactly does she expect me to say?

Warning messages are going off like fireworks in the back of my mind. I don't need a visor to help me picture them.

I should stop. End this interview. Get up and walk out of this room. There's a reason all three of them are on the opposite side of the desk. They're all lined up against me. None of them are on my side. I'm walking into a trap, and every word I say brings me closer to the brink of danger. Who knows what awful things Reese already told them about me.

They haven't asked about the negative parameter yet, but I have a feeling the questions are coming:  Who changed it? Did you do it on purpose? Who else could have could have sabotaged that code but you?

I don't have any answers. Only two people had edit privileges to the sub-folder on the encrypted server where my code resides. Not Eleanor. Not Reese. Only myself and my partner.

Maddox.

The fact is, I don't know what Maddox told them either. If I didn't change that code, that means he must have done it.

"It was supposed to be a game..." That's what he said to me last night. "The less you know the better..."

Why? The better to protect me? Or the easier to throw me under the bus? The fact that my visor just got retrieved from the bottom of the lake—that's not going to help me look any less suspicious.

"Ms. Sandberg." Dr. Tanaka taps his pen impatiently against his pad. "Do you have any idea how Eleanor Winthrop came to be wearing your visor on the night she fell to her death?"

I should go.

I should stand up and walk out of here.

If only I could get my legs to cooperate. Instead my brain whirs uselessly, searching my memory for anything else I could tell them. Anything concrete. Any shred of evidence to back up the fact that I had nothing to do with it.

"The backpack!"

I say the words too loudly. All three of their heads snap up at once, struck by my vehemence. I lean forward, resting my fingertips on the edge of Dr. Carlyle's desk, as my words tumble out in a rush.

"I lost my backpack. It happened that afternoon, the day she went missing. My visor was inside. I left it in the Assembly Hall, and someone returned it to my room later. They must have switched my visor for a different one. You'll see it—I'm sure you will—if you go back and look!"

Dr. Carlyle raises a hand to slow me down. "Hold on, Ellie. I'm not sure I understand. If we go back and look at what?"

I'm breathless now. I stop and force myself to inhale slowly before I hyperventilate. "The security camera footage," I explain in a steadier voice. "Go back and look at the footage from that afternoon. You keep the recordings archived somewhere, right? You must!"

Dr. Carlyle nods. "For 72 hours," he confirms.

"All that footage has been turned over to our office," the medical examiner adds, leaning back in his chair. "We have our analysts reviewing it."

I close my eyes, and relief pours through me for the second time in five minutes. They have the footage. That means they have the truth. It's not my word against Reese's—or against Maddox's.

There's only one small doubt that remains in the back of my mind. Should I tell them? Or will it only make things worse?

"The thing is," I say softly, as I smooth my dampened palms against my thighs. "There's a chance—"

"Can you speak up, Ellie?" Dr. Carlyle interrupts. "I didn't catch that."

"There's a hack."

He stares at me intently, waiting for me to say more.

"The security camera system," I explain. "It's not exactly...secure."

Dr. Carlyle's jaw drops open yet again. "Ellie, are you saying that you've hacked—"

"No, no!" I protest. "Not me. The others. Maddox, Reese and Eleanor... They've been gaming the camera feeds for years."

Dear Readers:
Any theories taking shape out there? Suspicions? Suspects? Predictions for what will happen next? Or is it all just a big jumble? I'd love to hear what you're thinking at this point in the book.

If you're enjoying the story, please don't forget to COMMENT and VOTE. Thank you! <3