Page 68 of For Your Own Good
“Help? I don’t need help. I need to be arrested.”
Missy nods and smiles. She reaches over and pats his hand. “I know you think that.”
“Why does everyone keep saying that? I know what I did.”
“Of course you do.”
Frank frowns. It doesn’t sound like she believes him.
The detective walks into the room. He’s smiling—like everything is fine, just fine. “Here’s the thing, Frank. It’s illegal to spike a drink with anything, even a diuretic. So, yes, we could arrest you for that. But the thing is, we don’t have any proof you did it. That bottle of green tea is long gone.”
“You don’t keep evidence?” Frank says.
“Once we determined she never drank the tea, it wasn’t evidence anymore.”
“So... you aren’t going to arrest me?”
“No,” Oliver says. “But we are going to get you some help. Because if you did what you say—”
“Idid,” Frank says.
“All right. We all just want to make sure you don’t do it again. You don’t want to do it again, do you?”
Frank shakes his head no. “But I don’t need help.”
Oliver doesn’t answer that.
Missy is giving him that patronizing smile again.
Frank is confused. And disappointed. He should be locked up and punished, or else he’ll never be forgiven.
FROM HIS BEDROOMwindow, Zach watches his parents drive up to the house. Separate cars. They both went straight from work to the big meeting at school.
He’s sitting at his desk, working on his math homework while eating Chinese takeout. Zach is an expert on all the Chinese restaurants in town. The problem is, one has the best Mongolian beef but another has the best noodles. It’s always so hard to decide.
He flips over to social media, checking the #HomicideHigh tag. Tonight, Belmont held a meeting for all the parents to “clear up any rumors and misunderstandings.” The reports are already coming in, and Zach is reading them when he gets a text from his dad.
Come downstairs please.
They’re waiting in the living room. Zach sits, but they don’t, which is never a good thing. His mom also hasn’t taken off her shoes. She’s still wearing those high heels.
“That meeting was a madhouse,” Dad says. “Total chaos.”
This isn’t what Zach heard online. Not surprising. James Ward has his own version of reality.
“Here’s where we are,” Mom says, getting back to the facts. “Sonia Benjamin was, in fact, murdered at the school. I’m sure you already know that.”
She’s using her lawyer voice. Zach nods.
“Good. As for Frank Maxwell, he disappeared today but is not dead.He apparently had some kind of breakdown. Everyone seems to think it was because he saw Mrs.Benjamin die, but no one really knows.” She pauses to gauge Zach’s reaction. He doesn’t have one. “He’ll be out on medical leave for the time being.”
“Unbelievable,” Dad says, pacing back and forth in front of the sectional couch. “All your mother and I wanted was to give you the best education. ‘Belmont,’ everyone said. ‘Send him to Belmont.’ And now”—he waves his arms around in the air, as if trying to capture the words—“thishappens.” In the middle of his rant, he stops and takes out his phone. “Have to take this,” he now says, walking out of the room.
Zach would sigh if he dared.
Mom sits down next to him. Her face softens when she stops being a lawyer.
“You know we just want what’s best for you,” she says.
