Night Sky by Suzanne Brockmann Read Free Book Online

gray and swollen. He looked like he hadn’t slept in a month.
    â€œIn here, please,” Mrs. Diaprollo announced, opening the door to the conference room with a flourish. Out of all the people in the world, the last person I would go to for advice was Mrs. Diaprollo. And yet she was the school’s only guidance counselor.
    â€œSkylar, you may take a seat,” she said as Detective Hughes tossed a manila folder onto the table. As I watched, he went to the far corner of the room and got a can of Diet Splash from the soda machine. Hands shaking, he then pulled a chair out from the conference room table and sat.
    I plopped down across from the detective. I was at least five feet away from him, but I swear I got a strong whiff of cigar smoke and stale booze. My stomach churned.
    Mrs. Diaprollo sat next to the detective, primly smoothing down her calf-length skirt and placing her hands atop her lap. It was clear she had no intention of leaving the room—and I was oddly glad for that. She looked toward the man and nodded.
    â€œYes.” Detective Hughes cleared his phlegm-filled throat. “I’m here to ask you some questions about the disappearance of Sasha Rodriguez.” He rubbed his hands over his face and then opened his eyes wide, as if working to stay awake. His hands were large and callused, and all of his nails had been bitten to the quick. They were still shaking. It was a small movement, but it was undeniable. He cleared his throat again. “How long have you worked for the Rodriguezes?”
    â€œAbout five and a half months,” I said. “A little bit after my mom and I moved down here.”
    The detective nodded. “And how well would you say that you know the family?”
    I shrugged. “Pretty well. I mean, I babysit for Sasha every weekend.”
    Mrs. Diaprollo tucked a stray hair behind her ear and then folded her hands, watching us both like she was observing a tennis match.
    â€œDid you ever notice anything strange or unusual about Sasha?” Hughes asked, pulling a notepad out of his jacket pocket. He set it next to his soda can, but didn’t make any move to write anything down.
    Strange or unusual? “What do you mean?”
    â€œFor example, would she sometimes get upset or cry?”
    I laughed once. “Well, yeah. I mean, she was nine. Nine-year-olds sometimes cry. You know?”
    Mrs. Diaprollo looked at the detective, who nodded and then reached inside the same jacket pocket and pulled out a small circle-shaped packet. He ripped it open and poured it into the soda can. It was Gas-B-Gone.
    The Diet Splash fizzled for a moment.
    â€œWhat about Mr. Rodriguez? Ever notice anything unusual about him?”
    â€œI…” I shook my head. “I don’t understand.”
    Hughes took a long gulp of his drink and set it down shakily on the table. Without any explanation or segue, the detective launched into another question. “Did you ever observe Mr. Rodriguez punishing Sasha?”
    â€œI guess,” I said. “I mean, when Sasha broke the rules, Mr. Rodriguez would send her to her room for a time-out.”
    â€œDid Mr. Rodriguez ever go into Sasha’s room with her?”
    Mrs. Diaprollo repositioned herself in her seat like she was starting to get uncomfortable.
    â€œWell, obviously. I mean, he’s her dad.” I shook my head, hoping I’d misunderstood. I felt my cheeks start to heat. “What does this have to do with anything?”
    Hughes didn’t bother looking up at me but simply plodded on with the questions, his voice almost mechanical. “When he went into Sasha’s room, did Mr. Rodriguez ever close the door?”
    â€œOh, come on ,” I exclaimed. “Really?” I laughed, but it was a humorless sound. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”
    â€œPlease answer the question,” Hughes replied.
    I tried to stay calm. “Yeah. And so did Carmen. And so did