“Sir? I don’t like this, sir.”

  The inch-thick wood muffles the voice. But it’s unmistakable.

  Emily comes down the hallway toward us, taking silent, tentative steps. She wears a puzzled expression, like she’s not sure if there’s a demon locked inside the parlor trying to get out.

  The door rattles in its frame as the captain tugs at the other side. The rattling stops.

  “He’s not happy,” Emily says.

  “Can you blame him?”

  “Sir? This is highly irregular.”

  “Okay, Captain, just hold on a minute.”

  “I’m not going to hold on a minute.” His voice retains its calm authority. “And I’m not going to be locked up like a criminal.”

  “Can you just tell me what happened to Duffy? I need to know in order to make sure everyone’s safe.”

  “I’m not going to talk through the door, sir. I refuse.”

  Natalia shakes her head, her hand to her chest. “You can’t release him.” She speaks so low I can barely make out the words. Like we’re whispering in a church.

  “How would you feel if someone locked you in a room?” I ask.

  “I didn’t try to kill Duffy.”

  “She’s right, Mr. Gaines,” Emily says. “You have to protect all of us by leaving him in there until the cops let us out.”

  I step back from the door and wave Natalia and Emily closer. Down the hall, Sydney stands by Duffy’s side in the kitchen. She appears to be whispering something to him. Duffy’s lips move as though he’s speaking. Then Sydney whispers again, shaking her head.

  “I don’t like him being locked in there,” I say. “It seems wrong somehow.”

  Emily starts to object, and I raise my index finger.

  “We don’t know what happened in the basement with Duffy. That’s true. But everyone is entitled to due process. You know, before I went into the basement, Sydney raised some questions about Duffy.”

  They both turn toward the kitchen.

  “She did?” Natalia says.

  “Yes, she did. You both did too. Remember? About the herbs and his anger toward Milo and Nicholas. What happened to that?”

  “She’s awfully cozy with him now,” Emily says. “Maybe they’re in it together. Some women like creepy guys like Duffy. I’m not sure why, but the weird, smothering attention doesn’t bother them.”

  “All I’m saying is we don’t know what’s going on. So I’m going to talk to the captain. Person-to-person—”

  “Man-to-man, you mean.” Emily shakes her head and lowers her voice the way all women do when they imitate men. “ ‘So, dude, why did you beat up the other dude, bro?’ ”

  “Can I get a little more credit than that?” I wait—and she finally nods. “He hasn’t had his interview yet. Both of you have. Okay. If you and Natalia want to wait in the kitchen with Sydney and Duffy, that’s fine. I’ll talk to the captain and see what I can figure out.”

  Natalia takes a step closer. “That’s great. I like that idea.”

  “Thank you.”

  “Yeah, that’s cool,” Emily says.

  They stand mute, expectant.

  “Okay, I’m going to go in and talk to him. If you want to go—”

  They start down the hallway, moving slowly toward the kitchen. Past them, Sydney looks our way, still standing over the wounded Duffy.

  I lean close to the pocket door and knock.

  “What?” The voice is right there on the other side like the captain has been waiting for my summons.

  “Captain? It’s Troy again.”

  “Are you going to let me out?”

  “Captain, I’m going to come in. So we can do our interview. Like I promised. I just want to know that if I open the door, you’re going to stay in there and not rush out. So we can talk.”

  “I have to promise something to you? I’m the one locked in.”

  “Just give me your word, Captain. I’m trying to come in and talk to you.”

  A long silence stretches. Blood pumps in my ears, the only sound. I think the captain has withdrawn, given up on any further talk, but then he says, “Okay. You have my word. I don’t know why, but you do.”

  “Great.”

  Down the hall, Emily and Natalia stand side by side, arms folded. Watching me.

  “It’s all good,” I say, trying to sound more confident than I feel.

  My right hand quivers as I take hold of the lock with my thumb and index finger. I twist it to the left. I grip the handle and the door whooshes as it slides to the left. I open it just wide enough for my body to squeeze through, which I do, moving with what feels like a surprising amount of grace.

  The captain stands back in the middle of the room. Parade rest.

  I slide the door shut again and face him, pointing at the chairs. “Okay, a civilized interview. All part of the process.”

  One step forward and the lock clicks behind me.

  I spin so fast I make myself dizzy. I grab at the handle, tugging on the door. But it remains flush in the frame.

  I beat the door with my fist. “Hey! What the fuck?”

  I pound some more, which I know only makes me seem crazy. So I stop.

  “Open the damn door. Come on.”

  “Mr. Gaines?” Natalia’s muffled voice sounds calm. “I do apologize for this. But we were talking while you were in the cellar. We think it’s safer if both of you are in there. We don’t feel entirely safe since someone here is a killer. And we don’t know what happened downstairs.”

  “What do you mean, you don’t know?”

  “You and the captain went down, and then you came up and Duffy was bleeding. Can’t you just stay in there until it’s four?”

  “No, we can’t.”

  “And then there was the thing with you and Mr. Hyde,” Emily says. “That fight. You clearly didn’t like him.”

  “We didn’t fight—”

  “You were alone with him when he died. You were here before all of us. If anyone had access to everything, it’s you. And the chief, who is a total fascist. He’s always creeping around campus, spying on the students. Look, maybe it’s better if the men are locked away in there. Duffy is the other man, and he’s incapacitated. We’ll all feel safer.”

  The captain’s low voice interrupts me. “It looks like the shoe’s on the other foot, isn’t it, sir? Now you’re being falsely accused of something. At least I think it’s false. I don’t know why you would want to harm a student like Milo, but I could see that you might want to get the spoiled, entitled heir of the college’s largest donor family out of the way in the hopes you could deal with someone more reliable. Like an estate lawyer or a board of directors.”

  I turn away from the door in his direction, and he’s pointing at the chairs, inviting me to sit.

  “I think it’s time for our interview,” he says.

  62

  THE CAPTAIN DETOURS ON his way to the chair.

  He crouches next to Nicholas, his tie dangling over the body like a pendulum. “It doesn’t add up, sir.”

  “What doesn’t?”

  “These two deaths.” He points at Nicholas’s chest, which is covered by the captain’s suit jacket. “Who would kill these two people, who seemingly don’t have anything in common? We don’t know if Milo and Mr. Hyde knew each other before today. Sydney mentioned that they might have gone climbing together. Or they could have met at a climbing site, even if Mr. Hyde wasn’t living in Bluefield. There are climbing clubs and things like that around the state to bring people with common interests together. Both of them also seemed to have some kind of attraction to Sydney. Past or present. I’m not sure Mr. Hyde knew any of the other students.”

  “He only knew me. As far as we know.”

  “Sure. There might have been a preexisting relationship between people in the house—one that was concealed well enough that none of us knew about it.” The captain straightens. “But let’s assume there wasn’t. That would mean some college kid goes out and gets poison and brings it to the most important exam of their life. And kills the guy who hands out the money?”

  “They killed the guy most likely to win the prize. That makes a sick sort of sense. And maybe Mr. Hyde was coll—a mistake.”

  “You can say ‘collateral damage’ if you’re not saying it in a way that denigrates the service of millions of men and women in uniform.”

  “Right.”

  The aches in my body ease when I settle into the chair. The captain follows suit. It’s the first time we’ve both sat since we carried Duffy up the stairs.

  “What happened in the basement?”

  The captain rolls his eyes. “Do you really think I just went down there and beat Duffy over the head?”

  “You didn’t want anyone to leave. And you were the only one down there with him.”

  His eyes refuse to settle on mine. They point toward some far corner of the room. “Do you know why I want this scholarship so bad?”

  “Same reasons as everyone else. It’s a lot of money. And school is expensive. And then you get a job, your foot in the door with a major corporation.”

  The captain nods along to my words like I’m laying down a steady beat. “There’s that, sure. And you know I’m older than the average student. I have a wife and kids. Like you.”

  “That’s damn expensive.”

  “How many children do you have?”

  “Three girls.”

  He nods. “I have two daughters. My older daughter, Vanessa, is seventeen. My younger daughter, Tanya, she’s my baby. Fourteen years old.” He closes his eyes now. “Daughters, they get you, don’t they?” He pokes the center of his chest with his index finger. “Here.”

  “They do.”

  “And your girls . . . are they all healthy?”

  An odd question, but I answer. “They are. By the grace of whatever controls the universe. We’ve only dealt with a couple of broken bones, some stitches, one chipped tooth.”

  He opens his eyes and stares right at me. “Tanya has spina bifida. And I don’t care how much Uncle Sam tries to help. It’s damn expensive when your child has special needs. Prescriptions, doctors’ visits . . . It kills.” He pokes his chest again. “There’s a surgery, spinal fusion. It’s not a cure, but it can help ease her discomfort. But it’s expensive. Very expensive. We moved back here to Bluefield because my mother-in-law is dying, and someone had to care for her. She has ALS. You know, Lou Gehrig’s disease? It’s slow. And gut-wrenching. My wife, Kimberly, she’s caring for a lot of people while I go to school and work. . . . It’s a lot . . . and it stabs me right here. All of it. That’s why I need this—to relieve Tanya’s pain. To ease the burden on my wife. I don’t like feeling desperate, but I do.”

  “I’m sorry, Captain.”

  “I’m not asking for any special treatment here. Just a fair shot. Like everybody else. I’m tempted to say I need the money more than anyone, but I know everybody has their problems and challenges they’ve faced in life. Speaking of challenges people face in their lives, did you read the bylaws like I asked?”

  “You know I haven’t had time. Why do you keep asking?”

  The captain is out of his chair like he’s been ejected. “They must be here somewhere.”

  “What are you trying to prove?”

  “The bylaws. I want you to see—” He stops at the side table where the tea was poured. It feels like five thousand years ago. “Here they are.”

  He brings the book over to the chairs, flipping the pages to the back as he walks. He finds what he’s looking for and then rotates the book as he hands it over to me.

  “Feast your eyes on that. Right there.”

  Scrawled across the last page of the book is a note. The handwriting is sloppy and modern. It’s not something written in the nineteenth century.

  And it says: No undocumented immigrant is eligible for the Hyde Scholarship.

  Underneath it is the messy signature of Nicholas Hyde.

  63

  I POINT AT THE book, my index finger hitting the handwritten note. “How do we even know Nicholas wrote this? Anyone could have done this to make him look like a bastard.”

  “I thought of that, sir. Remember when Mr. Hyde first pulled up outside of the house? And he came walking up and took the book of bylaws out of his briefcase?”

  “I remember. . . .”

  “He signed the book. He told us it’s tradition that each new presiding member of the Hyde family signs their name at the front of the bylaws. You can flip back and see the signatures there.”

  The pages are thin and worn, the binding loose. I scroll back to the front of the book and find a page marked presiding family members. Seven scrawled signatures, from Major Hyde in 1872 to Nicholas’s name and today’s date. It’s easy enough to switch from one to the other and see the signatures match.

  “Why in the hell would he write such a hateful note, Captain? It doesn’t make any sense. Hyde College admits undocumented students. Not every college or university does, but we do. In fact . . .”

  The captain backs up and sits on the edge of his chair. He rests his elbows on his knees and wears an eager look on his face. “I think I know what you were about to say. But let’s return to that subject in a minute. First things first: Would Nicholas Hyde know that the college admits undocumented students? He’s not involved in that decision, is he?”

  “No, President Chan and the board decided that. Anyone would know if they paid attention to news from the school.”

  “Mr. Hyde doesn’t exactly seem like the type to do that, does he?”

  “Not at all.”

  “So then he must have just learned about it today. Why else would he write that note into the bylaws with today’s date?”

  I stare down at the note. The shaky handwriting looks like an elderly person’s. Fitting, considering the condition Nicholas was in all day. “Why would he think he could just make a statement like that? One person can’t just amend the bylaws that way.”

  The captain’s index finger points to the ceiling. “Not so fast, sir. I’ve spent a lot of time studying that book today. There’s an exigent-circumstances clause in there.”

  “Exigent circumstances?”

  “It means—”

  “I know what ‘exigent circumstances’ mean. I just don’t know why there’d be such a clause in here.”

  The captain speaks without hesitating. He’s obviously thought all this through. “Clearly they wanted to give the presiding member of the family a certain amount of latitude in terms of controlling the day’s events. And you never know what’s going to come up during an eight-hour day of writing and interviews. Say you find out . . . say you find out that someone cheated. Or someone assaults another student in the house.”

  “Or someone dies.”

  “Exactly. Wouldn’t you want to be able to deal with it?”

  “If there’s an assault, just deny the perpetrator the scholarship. Easy. You’re the judge, jury, and executioner.” I wince at my choice of metaphor. Executioner.

  “But what if it’s something you don’t ever want to happen again? Not just a onetime thing like somebody getting in a fight. But something bigger and more substantial. Something you want to eliminate.”

  “Like the possibility of an undocumented student winning . . . someone you think isn’t the right kind of person.”

  “Exactly.” The captain stands up and paces back and forth in front of me. “So that exigent-circumstances clause allows the presiding officer of the process to write an emergency provision into the bylaws on the day of the process, provided they sign their name to it.”

  “Are you kidding?”

  “I’m not.”

  “Then that’s our ticket, right? I’m the presiding officer now. I can write a provision that says . . . that says whatever we want. That ends the process now—”

  But the captain is shaking his head. He points. “Check it out. Page twenty or so . . .”

  I flip through the pages, scanning the handwritten words. I squint because some of it is so hard to read. Finally, I catch the word “exigent.”

  “Okay,” I say, “here it is. . . .” I scan through the provision and say, “Oh, I see.”

  “Yup. You’re only allowed to pass one exigent provision per year. Checks and balances.”

  “I guess you could call it that.”

  “Back to our friend Natalia. I started to put this together when I was reading those bylaws and saw that note.”

  “It’s never a good idea to make that kind of assumption—”

  The captain looks at me like I’m stupid. “Don’t you think I know that, sir?”

  “Sure, go on.”

  “See, I resisted my initial assumption. I questioned it. Then I heard you and Natalia talk in the aftermath of her interview. She indicated she had admitted something to you. Something private she didn’t want anyone else to know. She seemed very upset by it, so I started to think back over other things that have happened today.”

  “How would Nicholas have known?”

  “That’s what I thought about.” The captain stops his pacing and scratches his chin. “During tea this morning, Mr. Hyde and Milo were talking about climbing. In fact, they talked about climbing in Mexico. You and I started to go out in the hallway to talk, which was very generous of you, by the way. But before we left, Natalia walked toward them, and I heard her say something about birth or being born. I can’t be sure which. I didn’t think anything of it, but when we came back, Natalia had moved away from them and was talking to Emily. Maybe Natalia told them where she was born and then more about her status. Before the exam, you’ll recall, Natalia was talking to Nicholas Hyde and talking to him rather passionately. She said something like ‘Why should that matter?’ Remember?”

  “She could have been talking to him about anything.”