Superposition Read Online Free PDF Page B

others?”
    â€œYes.”
    â€œDid you take Jacob Kelley into custody that night?”
    â€œNo.”
    â€œDid you include in your report that you feared he would do violence to others?”
    â€œNo.”
    â€œWhy not?”
    â€œI didn’t believe him to be a threat, sir.”
    â€œSo in your professional opinion, as a police officer on the scene at the time, Mr. Kelley gave no indication of being angry enough to murder someone.”
    â€œThat’s not something you can tell just by looking at someone,” Peyton said.
    â€œBut at the time, you did not think he was angry enough to commit murder.”
    He didn’t want to answer the question. Peyton knew his main purpose on the stand was to introduce a motive for murder. “I wasn’t certain one way or another,” he said. “At that time, he had not committed a crime.”
    Terry wasn’t going to let him off the hook. “According to your report, however, you had no reason, at the time, to believe that he would commit a crime, correct?”
    Peyton took a deep breath and let it out. “That’s correct.”
    Terry smiled. “Thank you. No more questions, Your Honor.”

CHAPTER 5
    UP-SPIN
    The police interviewed me, Elena, and each of the kids individually, although the kids had seen nothing and had little to say. The questions were polite, though repetitive, and I told them the truth about everything, except that I left out the spinning gyroscope and the apparent diffraction of the bullet. When the police finally left, it was nearly eleven o’clock, and we were all exhausted.
    Sean was practically asleep on his feet, so I picked him up and carried him to his room. His bed was set on a loft over a desk and play area, both of which were scattered with Legos, action figures, and plastic dinosaurs. On the desk, a set of green plastic army men that had been mine when I was young lay in various fallen poses in a field littered with spent rubber band ammunition. Because of his short arm, he had learned to fire by holding one end of the rubber band in his teeth while stretching it forward with a finger on his right hand.
    â€œDid you really punch that guy in the face?” Sean mumbled.
    â€œYes, I did,” I said.
    â€œAwesome,” he said.
    I thought more of an explanation was probably required—about when it was and was not appropriate to hit other people—but it wasn’t the time. I gave him a quick kiss and turned out the light.
    â€œThe nightlight!” he said.
    I flipped it on and slipped out of the room.
    â€œDaddy! My music!”
    Sighing, I went back in and turned on the soft music he always fell asleep to.
    â€œMy drink,” he said.
    â€œNot tonight,” I told him. “It’s late. Go to sleep.” I kissed him once more and stroked his hair, thinking of Brian and the gun and the police. Someday, Sean would be strong enough to take care of himself, but as a child, he was so helpless. He relied on me, trusted me implicitly to take care of him. He was asleep by the time I left the room.
    Elena was in the shower, and Claire’s room was dark, but the lights were still on in Alessandra’s room. I peeked in and saw her lying on her bed.
    â€œLights out,” I said.
    No response.
    â€œSweetheart, it’s late. Time to go to sleep.”
    Still no response. Her eyes gave a telltale twitch, and I realized that she was eyejacked, her vision overlaid by the icons and images of a shared network. Sometimes I think the technology was invented as a means to ignore parents and teachers while appearing to pay perfect attention. She could trade video clips or stills of what her eyes were seeing with similar viewfeeds from other people. At this moment, she might be looking at a school friend’s new shoes or following the drama of a family argument in China, while half a dozen strangers were looking at me. It was disconcerting to think that I might