Page 53 of That's Not My Name

The regret is instant. He leans forward, bracing his arms on his unnecessarily large desk, and the mood in the room goes still and sour. “Why are you here?” he repeats, in his most calm, controlled, officer tone. “You can’t have your car back, if that’s what you’re after. We won’t be done with it for some time.”

Of that I have no doubt. I wouldn’t be surprised if he “accidentally” blew it up in a training exercise.

I shake my head to banish that mental image. “Ah, no. I actually came to talk about what you said at the boat launch. I do know something else about the night Lola disappeared.”

He sits back, clearly surprised, and shuffles for his little silver recorder, because apparently this is 1975 and he doesn’t have an app for that. He presses play, and says, “Andrew Carter-Diaz, additional statement” into the mic, and then turns it toward me. “You have more to tell me?”

I hate that he’s recording me, but I got myself into this. I can’t exactly say I changed my mind and walk out. That’ll only make him suspicious, and this place is full of cameras. If he thinks I’m being weird, the first thing he’ll do is pull the recordings and catch me messing with his computer. I’ll be handcuffed long before I can sort through anything on that USB.

I have to seem genuine, and the only way to do that is to tell him something real.

“Yeah, I do.”

“And you’re doing this without parental supervision, without your attorney, and of your own free will?”

“I am.”

His chair groans as he leans back. “Proceed.”

Ugh, I hate him. Does he have to be so many police clichés all at once?

“You asked me at the river why Lola got out of the car.”

“I did.”

Pain ripples through my chest as I relive it again. The look on herface. The sound of the door slamming. The sight of her walking away from me. I take a breath. “I…ended things. That’s why she got out, and that’s why I didn’t go after her.”

Like a fucking asshole.

Roane scratches his chin stubble. “You broke up with Lola? Why?”

I hate this part. “Because I’m an idiot. Because she was talking about getting married, and I panicked. She accused me of cheating, and we got in a fight. She stormed off. I drove home. That’s the whole story.”

“Didyou cheat on her?”

I flinch. “Of course not.”

“If you only broke up with her, what’s with all the secrecy? Why not tell me this the first time we spoke?”

“Because I hate myself for it. Our last conversation turned into an argument, then she vanished into thin air. I didn’t want anyone to know I hurt her like that.”

“Why tell me now?”

“Because Ididhurt Lola, just not the way everyone thinks. And while I’ve been beating myself up about breaking up with her, the whole town’s decided I killed her. I…I thought you should know the truth. Because you’re right—thisisall my fault. If I hadn’t ended our relationship, she wouldn’t have stormed off and none of this would have ever happened.”

Saying that last part out loud makes my throat burn.

I move to stand but he holds up a hand. His expression shifts from that serious cop stare to sadness, regret maybe? I sit back down.

“Now, hold on. You two are young, way too young to be thinking about the future, and that kind of conversation would make a lot of people, particularly kids your age, lose their cool. It makes sense that Lola would look to you for support she felt she wasn’t getting from herparents, but it wasn’t on you to promise your life to her at seventeen. I’d be more concerned if you didn’t freak out a bit, honestly.”

I shake my head. “We’re not talking about a little freak-out. If this was only about me breaking Lola’s heart, then sure. But I left her out there on her own. There’s no excuse for that.”

“This is a safe town. She should have been able to get home from the river.”

“But she didn’t, did she?”

“No. She didn’t.” Roane’s eyes narrow, and what he really means clicks into place. She should have been able to safely get homeifshe walked away like I’m saying she did. Because Washington City is perfectly idyllic. This is asafetown. SoImust be a liar.

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