That was the way a classroom worked, too. You didn’t always know the facts, so you relied on that elusive sixth sense you’d developed through years of dealing with kids.
“I don’t think Justin’s lying.”
Again, Jace didn’t respond, allowing the silence to become uncomfortable enough that she finally broke it.
“Have you found
anything
that would tie him to
any
of this? Anything in his past?”
“No.”
“Has he even been in trouble before?”
“Not that we know of.”
She had waited, dreading his answer, so that when it came, she closed her eyes in relief. “Then all you have to go on is what Shannon told you? Is that what you’re telling me?”
“Right now.”
“Well, for what it’s worth, I believe she’s wrong. I want to go on record as saying that. She’s wrong, Jace.”
“Or you are. And both of you can afford to
be
wrong. I can’t. Three people are dead, Lindsey. And the more I find out, the more I know one of those kids is responsible.”
“The more you find out?” He had told her they’d found nothing on Justin. This had to be something else. Something that he hadn’t known the last time they’d talked. “Like what?”
“Someone had been cyber-bullying Tim Harrison.”
“
Cyber
-bullying?”
“Did you know he was gay?”
“
Tim?
Who told you that?”
“His father. Supposedly
nobody
else knew. But for three or four days before he died, he got hundreds of very graphic e-mails detailing his supposed sexual activities.”
“Like Andrea,” she breathed. “Just like Andrea.”
“Enough alike to establish a pattern. In Tim’s case they didn’t need to put up a profile. Apparently just the whisper of his sexual orientation was enough to set off the rampage.”
“Oh, God. Poor Tim. Poor Walt.”
“It doesn’t explain everything, but…it’s enough to tie the two student deaths together.”
“And Dave?”
“We don’t have results back yet from the autopsy or the evidence tests. Harrison did tell me the truth about something else.”
“Something else?”
“You remember the conversation you overheard that night in the field house?”
“I remember.”
“You were right. It wasn’t about booster activity. And it wasn’t about Andrea, either.”
And suddenly she knew. As if Jace had already told her. “Shannon. Those were the rumors Walt was warning him about.”
It explained so much. Dave’s distraction. His despondency. His suicide?
“It wasn’t Andrea and Tim he thought might keep him from getting that promotion,” she went on, thinking aloud. “It was their affair. Maybe that’s why he went over there that night. To talk to her about the gossip. To tell her they had to break it off. When she wasn’t there—”
“He killed himself?” Jace’s question was cynical.
“He had a lot to lose, Jace.”
“And he knew that when he started with her. Besides, Shannon said he wasn’t the type.”
It rankled that he was again quoting Shannon’s opinion to her. Until she realized why he had. “You don’t think he killed himself?”
“They may be smart, Lindsey. They may be goddamn little geniuses. But I swear,
nobody
is that good. Or that lucky.”
“I don’t understand.”
“They target three people who are vulnerable for one reason or another. And they succeed in getting all three to commit suicide? I don’t buy it. Not three for three.”
She waited, but he didn’t go on, forcing her to ask. “What does that mean, Jace? That they aren’t
that
lucky.”
“I think at some point they stepped over the line. I think they went from pushing the vulnerable to take their own lives to helping someone along who wasn’t quite so willing to cooperate.”
“
S
orry to call so late, but you said you wanted the results as soon as they were available. I got in from the Gulf a couple of hours ago and came over to do the autopsy before I grab a few hours sleep and have to start operating on the living.”
The county coroner’s choice to do the autopsy, a surgeon at the regional medical center, had been out of town on a fishing trip when Campbell’s body was discovered. At Jace’s urging, the sheriff had requested the coroner’s office make the principal’s autopsy a priority, apparently prompting this Sunday night call.
“Not a problem.” Jace laid down the permanent records Shannon had provided him to pull his notepad closer. “I appreciate your getting on this so quickly.”
“Mondays are always bad. I knew if I didn’t do it tonight, might be another twenty-four hours before I got to it.”
“Anything interesting?”
His sense that there was something fishy about Campbell’s death had grown over the weekend. Although he’d reviewed the photos taken at the scene a dozen times, he hadn’t been able to put his finger on anything concrete to verify his suspicions.
“I got the coroner’s notation about the Scotch and the pills. You were right about one at least.”
“Which one?”
“The deceased consumed alcohol. Probably not enough that he’d even be tested if he’d been pulled over on his way home.”
“He wasn’t drunk.”
“Not by any standard. One drink. Maybe two, depending on the strength of the mix and when he’d consumed them.”
“No pills.”
“I don’t know what happened to the ones that were supposed to be in that bottle, but the victim didn’t consume them.”
“Victim?”
“We aren’t dealing with suicide here, detective.”
Although Jace should have been pleased by the validation, it was still a jolt to have it confirmed. “So what killed him?”
“Took a little digging, but I confess I got interested. There were bruises that couldn’t be explained by lividity.”
“Defensive in nature?”
“Probably. Suggestive of that, in any case. Enough so that they made me look harder than I might have otherwise.”
“And you found…?”
“A needle mark. Just beneath his ear actually.”
“Do you know what was injected?”
“Maybe. You familiar with KCl?”
“Not really.”
“Potassium chloride. It’s used medically to balance electrolytes. Given intravenously in high enough concentrations or injected too rapidly, it can stop the heart, which is why it’s also part of the protocol in lethal injections.”
“So death would appear to be caused by a heart attack.”
The doctor laughed. “Except, as in this case, when you lack any evidence of heart disease.”
“Then why…?” Jace’s question ground to a halt, but the doctor knew what he was asking.
“Because, according to popular culture, it’s undetectable.”
“Is it?”
“It breaks down into its components, both of which are naturally occurring in the body. But high levels of either in the blood can be suspicious. Coupled with an injection site…”
Jace could almost see the shrug. “Why the charade of the empty pill bottle and the residue in the glass?”
“The simplest answer is usually the right one. Somebody wanted those pills.”
Klonopin, Jace remembered. Shannon used them to help her sleep. Were they something that might prove convenient when administered covertly to an overly watchful parent?
“So how would someone obtain potassium chloride?”
“A hospital would be the logical source. Anybody who works in one could have access to the stuff.”
“You’ve been a big help. I wonder if I could come by and get a statement detailing what you’ve found.”
“This is preliminary. Just the bottom line. It’s gonna take me a few days to write up official results.”
“I understand that. I was wondering if you could give me enough tonight that I could get a warrant for a search.”
“Sure. If you can be here within the next half hour.”
“You got it. And Dr. Wayne, I appreciate this.”
“I hear you’re the investigating officer for the church fires. Could this have anything to do with those?”
“It’s very possible.”
“Then I’m doubly glad to help. Those fires made this community look like something straight out of
Deliverance.
Bastards.”
The last was a sentiment Jace could certainly share. And if Justin Carr were responsible, then Randolph would get a deserved reprieve from those accusations of racism.
A win-win situation. For everyone except Lindsey.
Justin’s father opened the door the following morning, wearing a silk bathrobe over a pair of black pajamas. His wife, who was fully dressed, hovered in the hall behind him.
“I’d like to speak to your son, Colonel Carr.” Jace nodded to the woman before he turned his eyes back to her husband.
“Whatever you have to say, you can say to our attorney. That’s Phillip Stone. Cohen, Stone and Longdale in Montgomery.” Carr began to close the door.
Jace put his palm against the wood. “David Campbell was murdered. We’ve received the autopsy results last night.”
There was a momentary hesitation, but Carr recovered quickly. “As I said, talk to our attorney. Whatever kind of witch hunt you’re on, detective, we don’t intend to help you.”
“I have an order signed by Judge Reynolds that allows me to collect Justin’s computer as evidence.”
“His
computer?
Evidence for what?”
“A murder investigation.”
Carr laughed. “I told you. You’re barking up the wrong tree. Justin’s a good kid. He’s been assured of an appointment next year. I warn you, if you continue this harassment—”
“If I need to, I can come back with enough deputies to take the computer by force. The smartest thing you can do for your son, Colonel, is to let me have it without the theatrics. And without getting yourself arrested. If you’re right about your boy, then our examination of his computer will prove it.”
He could see Carr was considering the idea. And like his son, he wasn’t stupid. “Go get him, May,” he said to his wife.
“Justin’s not here, Paul.”
Carr turned to look at her then. “Where the hell is he?”
“He’s already left for school.”
“This early?” It had been a few minutes before seven when Jace had pulled into their driveway. Judge Reynold’s wife had refused to wake him last night, but she had agreed to have him call as soon as he was up. Jace had picked up the warrant on his way here.
“He had a project due today,” Mrs. Carr explained. “He said he needed extra time to get it set up in the classroom.”
“What kind?” A finger of cold ran up Jace’s spine.
“I can’t remember if he said. Science, maybe? He’s had those before. He was working on it all weekend downstairs.”
“Downstairs?”
“In the basement,” Carr explained. “It’s not finished, but when we moved here, Justin claimed the area for his own. He doesn’t sleep down there, you understand. I drew the line at that, but the rest of the time—”
“How big was his project, ma’am?”
Jace’s interruption seemed to surprise them both. Apparently when the colonel talked, everyone listened.
“I don’t know.” Justin’s mother shook her head. “There were several pieces, I think. He had a duffel bag—”
Before she could finish the sentence, Jace was down the steps, running for his car.
Lindsey scrawled her name across the sign-in sheet and then turned to find Shannon at her elbow. Although her friend was as fashionably dressed and as carefully made-up as usual, her green eyes looked less confident than they normally did.
“Hey,” she said.
“Hey, yourself. What are you doing here so early?”
Lindsey usually arrived at the school shortly after seven, using the time before the students flooded in to get ready for the day. Like most of their kids, Shannon raced the first bell.
Lindsey couldn’t help wonder if her friend’s being here so early had anything to do with the gossip about her and David Campbell. A way to avoid answering unpleasant questions?
“The county, in its infinite wisdom, has decided to send their so-called ‘grief’ counselors out again today. When they called me to set it up, I told them I was doing your classes. That we’d worked it out in advance. I hope that’s okay.”
Lindsey had been mistrustful of the county’s decision to close the school after Tim’s suicide. She had to admit that, despite David’s death and the resultant uproar in the community about where his body had been found, nothing else had happened during that mandated closure. Now, after last week’s two-day break and the weekend, they would all be back together once more, again comforting their kids in the midst of loss.
“You know it is.”
Lindsey walked behind the counter to the row of teacher cubbyholes. Shannon followed, watching as she emptied hers.
“Look, Linds, I know we left things a little—”
“We had a difference of opinion. We’ve had them before. We’ll have them again. That doesn’t change things between us.”
“Jace said you still have doubts.”
The surge of jealousy Lindsey experienced at hearing Shannon refer to him as Jace was unexpected. She struggled against it, working to keep what she felt out of her voice.
“He came to talk to me. Justin, I mean. He told me he was innocent. And I believed him. I told Jace that. I suggested that he broaden the scope of his investigation.”
“If it’s any comfort,” Shannon said as she turned to take the messily stacked papers out of her own box, “Jace said they’d found nothing to indicate he’d been in trouble before.”
Lindsey nodded, but she kept her eyes on the photocopied sheets of announcements and reminders as she pretended to look through them. She didn’t trust herself not to reveal how far from the truth her assertion was that nothing had changed between them. And now the gulf wasn’t only about Justin.
“First, second, third and fifth periods, right?”
“That’s it. I’ll see you first period, then.” Lindsey smiled, but movement of her lips felt stiff.
“Hey, it’s gonna be okay.” Shannon touched her arm. “As weird as it sounds, Dave’s death will take away the mystique. It won’t be cool to off yourself anymore. Not when the principal’s doing it.”
She was probably right. She usually was about the teenage psyche. Still, the dispassionate statement Shannon had just made about death of a man who had literally risked everything to be with her chilled Lindsey to the bone.
“I hope for
their
sake you’re right.”
Obviously she hadn’t managed to mask her revulsion. Shannon’s face changed, the beautifully sculpted features rearranging themselves into something less comforting.
“See you upstairs.”
As soon as Lindsey was out of the office, she took a breath, trying to control emotions that threatened to overwhelm her. She would be no help to her students if she couldn’t conquer her own feelings of loss, as well as her sense that the world she’d inhabited for the last ten years would never be the same.
She hurried up the stairs, fumbling her keys out of her purse as she did. There were two girls from her homeroom waiting outside her door. Their parents dropped them off early every morning on their way to work, and, although they were supposed to wait in the commons until the teachers arrived at the mandated time of 7:45 a.m., Lindsey let them stay in her room where they either studied or caught up on homework.
She smiled at them as she inserted her key, letting them enter the room while she removed it. She flicked on the overhead lights, thinking that the dimness fit her mood better.
She put her tote bag down on her desk before sticking her purse in her bottom drawer. Then she took out her lunch and walked over to put it into her wall cabinet. When she turned back, the girls had already taken their seats in the row by the windows, their heads lowered over their books.
Lindsey turned to erase the blackboard and found the janitorial staff had taken advantage of the off days to wash it. They’d also cleaned off the long-term assignments that she always left up in the right-hand corner. Replacing those would give her something to do. Something that might keep her mind off the last classroom she’d been inside.
Determinedly destroying that image, she picked up her desk calendar and carried it to the blackboard. She worked for several minutes replicating the assignments that had been erased. Before she could finish, a feminine voice interrupted.
“Ms. Sloan?”
She turned to find Jean Phillips at her desk. “Hey, Jean.”
“I was wondering if we were going to practice today.”
Scholars’ Bowl,
Lindsey realized. The team had a game tomorrow, one she hadn’t thought to cancel.
“I’m thinking we’ll take a break this week. I’m going to try to reschedule our match with Duncan.”
“So when will it be?”
“I’m not sure yet. I’ll put it up on the board when I’ve made the call. Okay?”
Jean nodded. “Can I stay here ’til the first bell?”
“Sure. Plenty of room.”
Lindsey glanced around the room as if to verify that. Steven Byrd had come in and was sitting in the middle of the back row of desks.
The bright blue eyes behind the thick lens of his glasses had sparkled with amusement the last few times they’d interacted. This morning they were cold.
Had Jace talked to him after their phone call? If so, surely he wouldn’t have used her name.
The uneasiness produced by Steven’s glare increased when she realized he had no books out. She thought about telling him that if he were going to sit in her room, he needed to start studying, but for some reason she decided against it. She broke eye contact with him instead, turning back to Jean.
“You can sit anywhere.”
“Thanks.” Jean picked up the enormous backpack she dragged everywhere. She slung it over her shoulder and made her way, lopsided under its weight, to where Steven was sitting.
His gaze didn’t shift to follow the girl’s progress, but remained locked on Lindsey. Nor did he speak when Jean slid into the seat beside him. The girl leaned down into the aisle between them to unzip her bag, wrestling out a notebook. As she laid it on her desk, she glanced up at Lindsey.