Always the interrogator, never the questioned. Nancy hadn't been subject to the kind of grilling she'd made everyone else answer to in years, when she'd first gone to the police about the disappearance of her best friend. Now back in the hot seat, Nancy patiently watched the seconds tick by on her wristwatch until the door finally opened, the two officers who had just been guests at her home stepping inside. She sat up straight as Powell took a seat, the screech of the chair on tile piercing the room as Callahan turned his around, arms folded over the top of the metal.
STATE YOUR FULL LEGAL NAME FOR THE RECORD.
"Nancy Marie Wheeler," she answered simply, as though it wasn't on the license she'd already handed over twenty minutes ago.
WHAT IS YOUR CURRENT ADDRESS?
"2350 Maple Street." Another thing they could've--or should've--known based on the very obvious fact that Nancy was an inhabitant of the home in question.
WHAT IS YOUR DATE OF BIRTH?
Nancy stared blankly for a moment before responding. She knew this was all just procedure, but did they really have to ask her everything that was already on the card she'd already surrendered. "September 13, 1967."
WHAT IS YOUR PLACE OF EMPLOYMENT AND JOB TITLE?
"Hawkins Post, Staff Reporter." As though both officers hadn't been interviewed by Nancy himself more times than she could count. Nancy was the one who'd written the front page on the story she was here to answer for, after all.
WHAT IS YOUR RELATIONSHIP TO THE WHEELER FAMILY?
Nancy's eyes narrowed incredulously, as though she couldn't believe Powell or Callahan hadn't combed through their list of questions before each witness he'd brought in for questioning. "All due respect, Chief Powell, but I just told you my name ends in Wheeler. Do you really need further elaboration beyond that?"
WERE YOU FORMALLY INVITED TO THE BBQ?
"Well, I don't think my mother needed to formally invite me to something happening in my own backyard, but she did ask me to help prepare for it." She supposed that was as close to an invitation as she would get for someone who lived in the house that was hosting.
WHAT TIME DID YOU ARRIVE AT THE BBQ?
Nancy paused, trying to remember exactly when she'd left the house to free her friends from their wreckage on Main Street. "Well, I was home until about noon, and then, I got a call from Chrissy Cunningham saying she and Steve Harrington were stuck on Main. You remember--you were helping direct traffic, I think? Then, I took them back to my house ... maybe it was almost one by the time we got back."
HOW DID YOU GET TO THE BBQ?
"Well, besides having lived there, I drove everyone back from Main."
CAN ANYONE VERIFY YOUR LOCATION THROUGHOUT THE BBQ?
Seriously? Wasn't Chief Powell there himself to verify her location? "I don't know, I talked to ... well, Steve Harrington, um, my mother, my father, my brother, his friends ..." she trailed off. "Which friends of your brothers?" "Will Byers, Lucas Sinclair, El Hopper," she ticked off with a shrug. As much as she adored Max Mayfield, she was doing her a favor, not including her in the list of witnesses to her presence.
HOW LONG WERE YOU AT THE WHEELER BBQ, APPROXIMATELY?
"Well, it was from when I got home, until we all ... well, you were there." The Wheelers had all but been put on lockdown, under the eyes of Hawkins PD while the top floor of their home had been yellow taped off.
HOW DID YOU LEAVE THE BBQ? WITH WHOM?
She sucked in a sigh; Nancy knew it was best to remain as cooperative as possible, especially when she knew all of her family had shot straight to the top of the list of suspects, but boy, were Callahan and Powell bad at this. "I left when we all went together in the car, down here. I went home, to bed, right after, when my mom, Holly, Mike, and I left the station."
ARE YOU CURRENTLY UNDER THE INFLUENCE OF ANY SUBSTANCES THAT MAY AFFECT YOUR MEMORY OR BEHAVIOUR DURING THE COURSE OF THIS WITNESS INTERROGATION?
Nancy was nearly offended by the question. "No, I'm not ... oh, my god, no. Am I going to be subjected to a drug test? Don't you need a warrant for that, Officer?" Powell held up his hands, as though to let the subject go.
HAVE YOU EVER KNOWN MRS. KAREN WHEELER TO LOSE HER TEMPER?
"No, not unreasonably so." Of course, her mother had seemed tense when her father had shown up at the party, but Nancy couldn't imagine any woman would feel particularly comfortable with their ex-husband arriving unannounced at their former home. Nancy herself had been briefly locked in the pantry at one sight of Jonathan. "She's firm, yes, but she remains calm. In fact, I think she only really yells when calling Mike up from the basement for dinner. So, no, I wouldn't say I've ever seen her lose her temper, and I'm one of the people who've spent the most time with her in the past two decades."
DID ANYONE SEEM PARTICULARLY AGITATED OR “OFF” AT THE BBQ?
Nancy thought back to her father's arrival, when he'd seemed particularly annoyed, more than anything, that he hadn't been invited to a party at what used to be his house. The Sergeant, too, had approached her parents, apparently seeing some tension between the divorcees. "Not particularly, no," she fibbed, unable to throw either of her parents under the bus. "Just the kids, maybe, when we had trouble getting the fire started for s'mores."
OFFICERS RECOVERED AN EMPTY KEG FROM THE BASEMENT. DO YOU KNOW ANYTHING ABOUT THAT?
So that's what Mike had been drinking. To admit that she'd known it'd belonged to her brother and his friends put them at risk for underage drinking charges, but, luckily for them, Nancy could have as many kegs in her basement as she wanted. "It was mine. I had thought some of the adults might want a drink during the party." It wasn't like the keg had anyone's name on it, for all Powell knew, it could've been hers!
