Though not every kid. Danny Pine hadn’t been so worldly-wise. If he had just asked to speak to a lawyer, he’d probably be a free man. Keller had watched the video of his interrogation several times, and it turned her stomach. That didn’t mean the interrogating officers were corrupt. They were small-town Nebraska cops with little training. And the scant interrogation instruction they’d received—a method known as the Reid Technique—had one critical flaw: it often resulted in false confessions. The great strides in DNA had not only freed many innocents, but had proven, contrary to conventional wisdom, that people did in fact confess to crimes they did not commit, especially juveniles.

A couple years ago, Keller had attended an interrogation best practices workshop and she’d been shocked at the number of false confessions. Keller remembered her instructor, a renowned expert in interrogation techniques, saying, “We used to teach you to look for signs of lying, like bad eye contact, fidgeting, but that’s just what kids do when they’re uncomfortable. We used to teach you to prod the suspect with a few details of the crime, but we found out that kids just parrot the words back. And we used to teach you to employ minimization techniques and tell kids that if they told the truth they could go home, but we found out that kids often jumped at the chance and confessed, believing that their innocence would be straightened out later.” The instructor closed the session by saying, “I interrogated a fifteen-year-old who falsely confessed and spent eleven years in prison for a crime he didn’t commit. It’s my goal in life that it never happens again.”

That didn’t mean Danny Pine was innocent. He was an obvious suspect. He’d dated Charlotte, and the truth of the matter was that it was rarely a stranger who killed you; it was usually someone you held dear. As Keller knew too well, the sheep spends its life worried about the wolf, only to be eaten by the farmer.

Keller looked at the wolf—no, wolves—sitting across from her.

“What’s this about?” Eric’s father said to Keller. “And I do not appreciate the school letting our kids being grilled by a federal agent without a parent present.” His glare landed on Principal Flowers, who insisted on being present at the meeting.

Keller didn’t flinch. She never had trouble with alpha males. She’d grown up with one, and understood that the alpha-ness was born of their own insecurities. These men who loved to tell women to stop being so emotional were in fact the ones who let their emotions control them. She handed the kid’s father a printout of some of the messages that had been sent to Maggie Pine.

“What’s this?” Mr. Hutchinson said.

“That’s what we wanted to ask your son.”

Mr. Hutchinson looked at Eric. His son’s face showed the first break in the facade.

“Why were you and your friends sending these messages?” Keller asked.

Eric was about to say something when his father extended an arm across his son’s chest like a shield.

“Whoa, hold on, lady. I don’t see my son’s name on any of these messages. And if I need to get our lawyer here, I—”

The principal spoke, trying to take things down a notch. “Agent Keller is here about the Pine family. She didn’t fly across the country about teen cyberbullying. But as part of her work”—the principal nodded at the printouts—“the FBI uncovered these messages targeting Maggie Pine just before her death.”

Keller chimed in now. “That’s right. Cyberbullying is usually a school matter. But sexual assault…”

“Sexual assault?” the father spit out the words.

“Witnesses say your son had been alone with Maggie Pine at a house party, and that she ran out, upset. The anonymous messages appear to be trying to intimidate her to be quiet about whatever happened.”

Keller looked at the boy’s father, who pulled at the collar of his dress shirt. His jaw was set. It was the boy’s face thirty years from now, puffier but just as arrogant. She wished the mother had come. If the messages to Maggie Pine wouldn’t faze the mom, there was no hope for this kid.

“You’ve got nothing,” Eric’s father said, aggressively working the gum in his mouth.

It was a day of doing things the hard way, it seemed. “That’s your response? That’s what you want to teach him?”

“What I teach my son is none of your goddamn business.” Mr. Hutchinson glared at the principal. “This is unacceptable, Barbara.”

Keller released a breath. “You’re right. I’ve got no basis to arrest your son. No basis even to hold him. But I do have enough to contact his college. I understand he’s been accepted to Michigan for lacrosse.” The principal had briefed Keller on Eric before his father arrived.

The color drained from Mr. Hutchinson’s face. He looked to the principal, but he’d get no support from her now.

Keller threw out a lifeline. “All I want is for Eric to answer some questions. And to know that you’re taking this situation seriously.”

The man thought about this, then nodded for Keller to continue.

Keller looked at Eric. “Did Maggie say anything to you about her trip, or anything that stands out in your mind?”

Eric shook his head. “I didn’t know her that well. I’d see her in the Center.”

“The Center?”

“The tutoring center after school. I’d flirt with her, you know, and stuff like that.”

“So before spring break you saw her?”

“Yeah. I went to the Center. I asked her to go to the party and stuff like that. I didn’t do anything, and I—”

Keller put up her hand. She feared losing her temper if she let him lie.

“I saw her at the Center before break. She was, like, talking about her brother’s case.”

“Anything in particular?”

“She showed me a video someone had sent her. A tip and stuff like that.”

Keller nodded. If he said “and stuff like that” one more time, she might have to arrest him.

“What did she say?” Keller had watched the video several times, but nothing had caught her eye. She made a mental note to watch it again, and to check on the status of the computer team’s enhancement of the footage.

Eric said, “Maggie was excited. She thought it showed the U.P., you know, from the show.”

“What else did she say?”

“That was it. I asked her to go to the party. I didn’t talk to her again until then.”

“That’s it?”

He nodded.

“And what happened at the party?”

The boy’s father tensed.

“Nothing,” Eric said. “She said she wanted to talk alone and I figured, you know. So we were, like, just kissing and stuff, and then she just got freaked out, kneed me, then took off. I didn’t do anything, I swear. I told some people, and they said she was saying I tried to force her, which isn’t true. If they sent her messages telling her not to lie, it wasn’t my fault. I didn’t tell them to.”

It was a convincing performance. Untrue, but convincing.

“Young man,” Keller said. “Do you know how easy it will be for the FBI to trace who sent the anonymous messages to Maggie Pine? And if just one of those messages was from you—or if any of the kids who sent them say you asked them to do it—then you’ve just lied to me. Do you know the penalty for lying to a federal agent?”

The boy swallowed.

“Five years in federal prison.”

The boy’s father spoke up. “But you said—”

She held up her hand to silence him. “The statute of limitation is five years.” Keller took in their pathetic expressions. “My office has a good relationship with the University of Michigan’s police force. If they get a report—so much as a rumor—that you’ve been anything but a perfect gentleman, I’m going to pay you a visit. And you will find out the consequences of lying to me today.”

The boy started to speak.

“Don’t,” she said. “If I get wind that you were even rude to a girl … Do you understand?”

The boy nodded.

She looked at the father. “He dodged a bullet today. That happens once.”

“Understood,” the father said, looking like a beaten man.

“A perfect gentleman,” Keller said sternly.

“A perfect gentleman,” the father repeated.

It wasn’t justice for Maggie Pine, but maybe it would save the next girl. With no witnesses and a dead victim, Keller decided it would have to do.

CHAPTER 35

MATT PINE

Matt slept nearly the entire flight. He’d spent several hours at the Cancún airport, killing time by dispatching texts to his friends, and eating terrible Americanized Mexican food at an overcrowded chain restaurant in the center of the departure gates. The margaritas were good, though, and the waitress packed him a giant slushy tequilaed mess in a Styrofoam to-go cup for the plane. That ensured that he was out cold until he hit the Dallas/Fort Worth airport, and again on his connection to Omaha.

He cracked his neck as the plane taxied to the gate.

As he waited for the passengers to deplane, the usual jackasses had marched from the rear of the plane and stood in the aisle out of turn. He imagined for a moment his mother saying Rude! under her breath. After helping the old woman in the seat in front of him pull down her carry-on, Matt sauntered out.