Burning September Read Online Free PDF Page A

than hell.   
    The air reeked of gasoline upon her reappearance, but I’d attributed it to the Circle K a half mile down the street.  And when the police asked their questions, I conveniently forgot. 
     
    She was on the roof the whole time.  Every few minutes she’d come back inside, and once in a while I’d go up to ask her a question, and she was there every time I did, I swear.  Lying on a lounge chair, sunglasses on, reading her book.  No way she could have gone to Brian’s house and back.  There wasn’t enough time for her to swing it.  He lives half an hour away.  She’d have had to come back and get her keys if she were going over, and she was in a freakin’ bikini, where could she have hidden them without me noticing some suspicious bulge? 
     
    But then I suppose even Detective Slater was smart enough to know that sibling alibis were never the most reliable.  I had every reason to lie, he said, and we both knew it.  But he didn’t know everything I knew.
     
    “It wasn’t different from any other day.  Caroline was home with me, and when she wasn’t, she was on the roof reading and sunbathing.  Every so often she’d come back inside to talk to me and get something, or I’d go up there myself to see her.  She was right there, every time I did.  If she’d left for a long time I definitely would have noticed.  But she didn’t.”
    “Then why do you think they suspected her?”
    “I don’t know.  They’d broken up, her and Brian.  It’s as good a reason as any to think she did it.”
    His ice-blue gaze held mine for a long time before he put the sheet of paper aside.  “You do realize I’m on Caroline’s side, right?  There’s two people you should never lie to; your doctor and your lawyer.”
    “You’re not my lawyer.”
    “Let’s not play semantics, Katya.”
    “Kat.  I told you it’s Kat.”
    “I like Katya.”  He paused again, chewing the inside of his lip.  “The only way I can plan the proper defense is if you’re honest with me.  I’m not buying your Helen Keller story.  You had to have seen something, heard something.”
    “You can’t put someone on the stand if you know they’re lying.”
    He scribbled something on a notepad.  “Depends on what that witness is lying about.  If it’s just an omission, well that’s a little different than lying point-blank, and much harder to prove.”  He depressed the point of the pen rapidly.  I wanted to smack it out of his hand. 
    “Who’s playing semantics now?”
    “I’m an attorney.  I’m allowed.”  He crossed his arms over his button-down and fixed me with a stare again.  “I’m going to assume half of what you told me is the truth.  You didn’t see or hear her leave in her vehicle, did you?”
    “No.”
    “She didn’t confess to you when she came back inside?  Mention anything to do with Brian?”
    “Only when she expanded on her theory that his face looked like a hairy fat woman’s vagina.”
    It looked like he wanted to laugh, but mastered the urge.  “I can see it now that you mention it,” he said, flipping to the picture of Brian in his files.  “Anyway.  Nothing— nothing —that happened that day was different in any way from all the others?”
    I looked at my cheap plastic flip-flops, smacking one against the heel of my foot.  “I—”
    “You’re lying.”
    “What?” I spluttered.  “But I didn’t even say anything.”
    “What was different on that day?”
    I tried to glare but must not have been too skilled in that regard, because he didn’t so much as blink.  He was a tornado and I was a house of cards. 
    “I smelled gasoline,” I finally said, with the feeling of bodily deflation.  “Not—not a lot.  But some.  And that could have been due to anything, anyone, neighbors barbecuing or the gas station—”
    “Across the street.  Yeah, I stopped there before coming here.  Don’t look like that, all isn’t lost.  Nobody but you said she