Change of Heart by Norah McClintock Page A

case. If there was some way the situation could have been worse for Billy, I couldn’t think of it.
    â€œWhen did you talk to Mom?”
    â€œShe called me this morning. She wanted me to give you a heads-up.”
    I punched in her cell-phone number. She answered on the third ring.
    â€œMom, I want to talk to Billy.”
    â€œHe’s in custody, Robyn.”
    â€œBut he can have visitors, right?”
    â€œHe can see his lawyer and his parents. Robyn, I really think it would be better—”
    â€œHe’s my friend, Mom. Don’t you think he would want to know that someone besides his parents and his lawyer cares how he’s doing?”
    I heard my mom sigh at the other end of the line. “I’ll see what I can do,” she said. “I’ll talk to his mother and see if she can get you approved. But it won’t be today. Okay?”
    â€œThanks, Mom.”
    I got dressed and headed for the door.
    â€œWhere are you going?” my dad said.
    â€œFor a run. I have to think.”
    I made record time going down the stairs. I didn’t want to take the chance that I’d bump into Nick. I ran all the way to the river that cuts through the city, and then I ran north along it, my feet pounding on the cement path as I thought about Billy. He couldn’t possibly have killed Sean Sloane. He rescued injured birds. He fought to stop animal testing of cosmetics and pharmaceuticals. He volunteered at an animal shelter that had a no-euthanasia policy. He was the most humane person I knew.
    On the other hand, he had gotten into a fight with Sean, which I wouldn’t have believed if I hadn’t seen it with my own eyes. He had phoned Morgan repeatedly, almost obsessively, even after she had asked him to stop. And he had been caught spying on her while she was with Sean. Lately, Billy had been doing a lot of things that were out of character. But still, murder?
    I hated to admit it, but my dad was right, at least about one thing: when people get caught up in strong emotions, they do crazy things. I had seen that happen to Nick. I’d seen it happen to other people, too. And because of that, I could picture the events surrounding Sean’s death.
    I could picture Billy going to the arena. I could picture him seeing Sean there and maybe going over to talk to him, to tell him to stay away from Morgan. Sean had been killed by a blow to the head from behind—and now that I had seen Billy kick Sean in the schoolyard, now that I knew how much he was hurting, I could picture him picking up something and maybe lashing out at Sean. Not meaning to kill him, but maybe, because of what he was feeling, meaning to hurt him. I could picture Billy standing there and looking in horror at what he had done and then covering Sean’s face in remorse before turning and fleeing from the scene. I hated myself for it, but I could picture it.
    The rest of the day dragged by. I tried to do homework, but I couldn’t concentrate. I picked up the phone a dozen times to call Morgan and put it down again just as many times. She had hung up on me. She should call back.
    But she didn’t.
    I went out and rented a couple of DVDs and popped them into my dad’s DVD player, but they washed by my eyes like boring scenery outside a speeding car. All I could think about was Billy.
    On Sunday my dad said he had to drive out to the country to talk to some potential clients. He asked if I wanted to go with him. I said no.
    â€œA change might do you good, Robbie,” he said.
    I told him I had to go to the library. I said I had an assignment due. I don’t know if he believed me or not, but he kissed me on the cheek before he left and he said he’d try to be home for dinner. After he’d gone, I wrote him a note and left it on the dining table. Then I went to my mom’s. At least she was doing something to help Billy. She was surprised to see me. When I asked her if she thought Billy