What Doesn't Kill Us--A McKenzie Novel by David Housewright (best books for 7th graders TXT) 📕

answered for her—“She’s here to interview a student.” When he saw the look in Shipman’s eyes, however, he folded his hands over his belt buckle and stood at attention.

“I apologize,” he said. “I overstepped.”

Shipman hadn’t heard a lot of apologies coming from men, either, and quickly accepted his.

“It’s okay, Kyle.” She used his first name to prove there were no hard feelings. To Volkert, she said “I would like to speak to a student, an English major named Elliot Sohm. S-O-H-M. Female. Age twenty. But understand, gentlemen. The young lady is not wanted for anything. There will be no arrests. I wish merely to question her concerning a matter that occurred recently in St. Paul of which she may—or may not—have personal knowledge. So, let’s not embarrass the kid in front of her classmates, okay? I don’t want to summon her. I don’t want her escorted across campus by one of your white shirts.”

“That’s considerate of you,” Volkert said.

Considerate hell, Shipman told herself. I want the kid to think I’m on her side until I’m not on her side.

Out loud, she said “Tell me, Mr. Volkert, how I can interview Elliot Sohm without the entire student body knowing about it?”

Volkert went to his computer and typed for about fifteen seconds, used his mouse, and typed some more. When he finished, he said, “Ms. Sohm is being housed in Burton Hall.” He glanced at his watch. “Most students are probably still at dinner. They could be eating at any one of three locations, Burton Dining Hall, East Dining Hall, and Sayles Hill Café, but Sayles has a grab-and-go menu after lunch. Think fancy takeout. That leaves Burton and East. Burton is closest. We could find her there, walk up and say ‘Hi’ like we’re old friends.”

“We?” Shipman said. “The three of us would look like a posse.”

Volkert gave it a few moments thought.

“Students are used to seeing security wandering through the residences, academic buildings, the Bald Spot, everywhere on campus,” he said. “We want them to be used to seeing us. It would not cause concern for any of them to see me doing a walk-through in the dining halls. You’re not in uniform. If you were to enter a few minutes behind me, I doubt anyone would even notice.”

“Thank you.”

“Do you know Ms. Sohm?”

“From a distance. We’ve never met.”

Volkert gestured at his computer. There was pic on the screen of a pretty girl with short blond hair, round face, bright eyes, easy smile, and dimples. Shipman studied it for a moment.

“Okay,” she said.

She and Volkert spun toward Officer Cordova.

“Should I wait here?” he asked.

“You are my ride,” Shipman said.

Theresa Deese had made fettuccine alfredo with grilled chicken that everyone in her family said was as good as if not better than what they could find at Olive Garden. She never told them that the recipe actually came from the restaurant; she found it online.

She picked at the meal, though, while Deese dug in as if he hadn’t eaten in three days. You might have thought it would be the other way around.

“I can’t imagine what you’re going through,” T said.

“My first thought was that this was a huge mistake,” Deese said. “I thought that they must have mixed up my results with someone else’s. Once I was convinced that they were accurate … It felt as though the foundation on which I had built my life had been pulled out from under me, you know? I was wobbling for a while. At the same time, I was afraid to tell anyone. Not you. Not even Barb. It took a while to regain my balance. Regain my balance—like I have. I haven’t. Not really. At least I’m not angry anymore. I became so angry that I had been lied to by the people I love the most and then I became sad and then—I had taken it for granted my whole life that when I looked into the mirror I was seeing not just myself but my whole family. Now I look and I wonder where did that other half come from?”

“It doesn’t change anything with me, you know that don’t you?” T said. “You’re my brother and I love you whether you’re a half, three-quarters, one-quarter, an eighth…”

“Thank you, T. You’ll never know how much that means to me.”

“You’re not going to start crying again, are you?”

“No.”

“All right then.”

“About the business; about our inheritance…” Deese said.

“In Minnesota, an individual has a full year to challenge a will or make a claim on an estate after a person dies,” T said. “A judge might waive the statute of limitations in the case of fraud, only there wasn’t any fraud, was there? We both believed what we believed…”

“You looked all this up?”

“Of course I did. Didn’t you?”

“No.”

“Dad would be so fucking disappointed in you. I mean, that was careless, David.”

“If you want to contest Dad’s will…”

“I’m not going to contest the will, you jerk. I just wanted to know how things worked in case papers needed to be signed or something. Besides, I really like what you’re doing with the business. You’re making me a helluva lot more money than I’m getting in alimony, so…”

“T…”

“What?”

“I love you.”

“Oh, shut up.”

Only now it was T’s eyes that welled with tears.

“What are you going to do about this, anyway?” she asked.

“Nothing. I mean, what—I’m going to announce to the family that our mother cheated on our father? That she was … This is our mother we’re talking about. The kindest, most considerate, most loving, most, most…”

“She was a woman like any other woman. Sometimes mistakes are made.”

“Don’t tell me that I’m a mistake.”

“That’s not what I meant.”

“I know, I know. But, T, what am I going to do? Call her out two years after she died? How is that going to make anything better?”

“Most of the family would be very angry if you did.”

“You think?”

“I won’t, though. I promise I’m good with whatever you decide.”

“Right now I’m thinking that we keep it a deep, dark secret.