Mad Honey: A Novel by Jodi Picoult, Jennifer Finney Boylan Read Free Book Online Page A

the recording device that Mike has set down. An untouched glass of water sits in front of each of us. “What were you doing at Lily’s house?” the detective asks.
    “She’s my girlfriend,” Asher replies.
    “For how long?”
    “About three months. I went over there to talk to her.”
    Mike nods. “Didn’t you see her at school?”
    “She was out sick. She hadn’t been answering my texts. I was…I was really worried.” He lets out a long breath. “Look, I want to help you. But…do you know if she…if she’s…” I see the moment he decides to err on the side of optimism. “Is she still at the hospital?”
    “I don’t know,” Mike says. “As soon as I get word…” He clears his throat. “So, you went to her house to check on her?”
    “Yeah.”
    “How did you get in?”
    “The door was open,” Asher says.
    “When you came into the house, where was Lily?”
    He swallows. “Lily was…” Asher looks down, and his hair falls into his eyes. I watch his throat work for a moment, caught around the rest of his words. “Lily was at the bottom of the stairs and she wasn’t moving.”
    I think, quickly, of Lily—who somehow always had seemed in motion, even when she wasn’t; hands moving to punctuate her sentences and her smile flickering in the spaces between words. I think of how she would hold Asher’s hand, and her thumb would rub over his knuckles, as if she needed to convince herself that he was solid.
    “There was blood under her head,” Asher says. “I tried to get her to wake up?” His voice scales upward, a question, like he can still scarcely believe it himself.
    “How?” the detective asks.
    “I shook her, I think?”
    “Why didn’t you call 911?”
    Asher looks as if he has been slapped.
    “Mike,” I murmur. “He’s just a kid .”
    He looks at me, not in warning, but not in sympathy, either. “Olivia, you’re going to have to let him answer these questions.”
    Asher’s eyes meet mine. “Oh my God,” he says, “why didn’t I call them? If I had…if I had would she be okay now? Is this my fault? ”
    “Asher.” I gently put my hand on his shoulder, but he shrugs it off.
    “What happened to her?” he demands of Mike.
    “We’re trying to figure that out,” the detective says, grim. “Was anyone else there?”
    “Just her dog.”
    He nods. “Let me get this straight. When you got to the house, you found Lily at the bottom of the stairs. But when the officers got there, Lily was on the couch. Who moved her?”
    “I guess I did, but I don’t really remember doing it,” Asher admits. He shakes his head. “The next thing I knew, Lily’s mom was standing in front of me asking what happened. She called 911 and then she kneeled down in front of Lily and I…I backed off. And then you guys showed up.”
    Mike flicks the button on his pen twice. He stares at Asher, then nods. “Okay, Asher. Thanks for answering my questions. I really appreciate it.”
    He stands up, but Asher remains in his chair, gripping its arms. “Wait,” he says. “How did she fall?”
    “I don’t know,” the detective says. “We’re still trying to determine what actually happened.” Suddenly there is a buzzing, and he pulls his phone from his pocket and holds it to his ear. “Lieutenant Newcomb.” I watch his face, but it remains smooth, implacable. “Thanks. I understand.”
    As he hangs up, Asher rises on a current of hope.
    Mike shakes his head, meeting Asher’s eyes. “I’m sorry,” he says.
    Asher folds in on himself, crumpling onto the floor. He draws up his knees, buries his face in his hands as he sobs.
    He is making a noise that is inhuman. With muscles I did not know I have I help him to his feet. As we are walking out of the conference room, Mike puts his hand on my arm. “Keep a close eye on him,” he murmurs. “We don’t need another tragedy on our hands.”
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    THE NEWS THAT the American colonies had won the Revolutionary War took two whole weeks