Chain Reaction (13 page)

‘It’s not,’ Lucinda said and then, after a heavy sigh, explained about Amber.

‘No wonder you’re wiped out.’

‘Now, I’m anxious to hear from Evan about how the doctor’s visit went. I can’t make any decisions on where to go next to protect this child until I know what I have to offer social services and the sexual crimes unit.’

‘Are there people you can trust in both departments?’

‘I think so. The timing of this is so delicate. We need to make sure that the children are both safe when that bastard is arrested. And we need to be sure that they’ll keep him away from them afterwards.’

‘No way you can get a guarantee of no bail.’

‘No, but there are alternatives. Personally, if he gets out, I think he should be monitored with restrictions on where he can go and the kids need to be stashed someplace where they will be safe from harm.’

‘So, all you are asking for is common sense and logic. Sounds easy but in practice it’s often impossible.’

‘I know but I will be relentless.’

‘Would you go so far as to run off and take the children with you?’

‘If it comes to that, Jake.’

A
fter Amber’s examination by Dr Carson Winters, Evan’s first priority was getting Amber to his home and settled into bed. He made arrangements to call the other doctor at home after he’d accomplished that.

Charley showed Amber up to her room while Evan relieved Kara, the babysitter, and checked in with his younger daughter, Ruby. ‘Now, Rubikins,’ he said as he tucked her into bed, ‘you stay out of Charley’s room tonight.’

‘But I want to meet her friend,’ Ruby objected.

‘There will be plenty of time for that. Amber will be here all through the weekend.’

‘But, Daddy—’

‘And don’t go in waking them up tomorrow morning. Amber has had a very hard day and she needs her sleep and she’s just not up to meeting another new person tonight.’

‘OK, Daddy …’

‘Promise?’ he asked, lifting up two fingers in a modified scout pledge.

‘Promise,’ she said, mimicking his actions.

‘That’s my girl,’ he said, giving her a peck on the forehead. ‘Sleep tight.’

He went down the hall to Charley’s room and knocked on the door. He heard a gasp inside and knew it must be Amber.

‘Come in,’ Charley said.

‘No, no, no!’ Amber objected.

‘It’s OK, Amber. It’s Daddy.’

Evan opened the door a crack and said, ‘Don’t worry, I’m not coming in. Charley, you two can stay up as late as you want tonight and just sleep as long as you need to in the morning.’

‘But, Daddy, it’s a school night,’ Charley said, the surprise at his leniency apparent in her voice.

‘So call this an exception to the rule. If you need to go in late in the morning or even stay home all day, I’ll write your excuses. Come on out here and give me a kiss goodnight, Charley. I’m heading off to bed.’

Charley bounced off her bed and out into the hall. Evan eased the door shut behind her.

‘Charley, I know I’ve always had a house rule about not locking your door at night in case there is an emergency, but if it makes Amber feel safer, go ahead and do it.’

‘Are you sure, Daddy?’

‘I don’t like the extra responsibility it puts on your shoulders, Charley, but right now Amber’s feeling of security is really the most important thing to consider.’

‘OK, I’ll let Amber decide. But I’m not a little kid anymore, in case you haven’t noticed.’

‘Oh, I certainly have,’ Evan said as bittersweet emotions flooded over him. ‘Good night, Charley.’

‘Wait, Daddy. Why did he do that to Amber? What made him do that?’

‘I don’t have an answer. I don’t think any decent man understands why some men do things like that. You’re not worried about me doing anything bad to you, are you?’

‘No, I don’t worry you’ll do something bad – it’s just sometimes you are so embarrassing. I wish you could try not to be so dorky when we’re at the mall.’

‘OK, I’ll try,’ he said, walking off and shaking his head, wondering how his self-esteem would survive Charley’s teenage years. In his bedroom, he called Dr Winters. ‘Hi, Carson,’ he said when she answered.

‘Well, Evan, it’s obvious that the girl was telling the truth. I found clear evidence of rape and collected a sperm sample. The good news is that although there is some physical damage, it should heal with time. Just give her some Tylenol when she experiences any pain. The bad news is that she may never completely recover from the emotional damage. She’s going to need the care of an adult with a lot of love to give and mountains of patience if she has any hope of a normal life after this ordeal.’

‘I think the best I can do for her right now is keep my distance and let Charley take the lead as her friend. I’d like to wrap my arms around her and rock her to sleep, but I know if I tried, she’d be terrified.’

‘Yeah, it’s going to be a while before she trusts any man. Tell your lieutenant that I’m ready, willing and eager to testify at any hearing or trial. Amber should never return to that home and her little brother needs to get out of there as soon as possible, too.’

After hanging up, Evan called Lucinda and relayed the information from Dr Winters. ‘And listen, Lucinda, I can’t take on Amber and Andy permanently – I’m already worried that I’m not up to the challenge of raising my two girls on my own – but if there is a need for a temporary placement until the right home can be found for Amber and her brother, I am willing to take that on.’

‘Evan, I can’t tell how much I appreciate that. My schedule is so erratic that I knew I couldn’t do it but it just might be the solution to getting them into a safe environment without delay. Is Charley doing OK?’

‘Right now, Lucinda. But I’m worried about how this will affect her ability to have a good relationship with a man in the future.’

‘I wouldn’t worry about that Evan. Charley has a great father watching over her – she’ll know a good man when she sees one.’

‘You couldn’t say that when we first met.’

‘No, Evan, I couldn’t. At times, you were a bit of a jerk – but you’d just lost your wife to an act of violence and were under suspicion for her murder. All things considered, you did pretty damn good. Now, if you can only survive the teenage years with two girls – glad it’s you and not me.’

I
n the morning, Lucinda set up an eleven a.m. meeting in the conference room with a social work supervisor from Child Protective Services, a CASA volunteer attorney and a detective from the sex crimes division before driving over to Woodrow Wilson High School.

The student parking lot in the back was empty but the space on the side for faculty and administrative personnel was packed. Lucinda walked through there, noting the presence of three red pick-up trucks before going inside.

Lucinda didn’t blink at the sight of high chainlink fence around the exterior of the damaged portion of the building but, inside, the same barrier looked out of place. The demolished hallway was blocked and a long table with two chairs rested in front of it. Sitting on the floor, in neat stacks beside the table, were sealed boxes filled with the contents of the intact lockers marked with a unit number and a student’s name. On the surface were containers holding the items rescued from those that had blown to bits. Each box was piled high with a pathetic and jumbled assortment of mangled textbooks, battered binders, all sorts of school supplies and a collection of shoes and clothing whose continued use was doubtful.

She followed the handwritten signs to the makeshift office that was nothing more than a repurposed closet with a desk, telephone, computer and one staff person. The handwritten sign on the front of the desk read: ‘Administration Office Outpost – full services available in trailers 201 and 202 on the west side of the building.’ Fortunately, the woman in the small cubicle was able to direct Lucinda to the cafeteria where all staff had gathered for a meeting. She eased open the doors and slipped inside. A psychologist was talking to the group about the impact on students and preparing them to anticipate wide reactions from boisterous acting out to total withdrawal.

Principal Rose Johnson spotted the detective before Lucinda located her. Rose left her seat and walked to the back of the room and the two women stepped out into the hallway. ‘What can I do for you, Lieutenant?’ the principal asked.

‘I was hoping you could provide me with a list of parking permits for red pick-up trucks. Would that be possible?’

‘Thank heavens that the school district tech guru insisted on a rigid schedule of computer back-ups. The desktop where that data was inputted was totally destroyed but we were able to restore it all on to a laptop. We’ll need to go outside to the temporary office – oh my, what a mess.’

‘The staff seems to be taking it well.’

‘Ha! You should have arrived ten minutes earlier. They were acting like a bunch of twelfth graders ready to escape the system. Shouting questions at me and demanding answers I simply do not have. A few thought that we shouldn’t start classes up again until there was a memorial service for Fred Garcia. I told them that Mrs Garcia planned an early-evening celebration of her husband’s life that they all could attend but they objected, saying that we should have a remembrance here on campus. The moment I had that under control, a few others voiced their outrage that we were still in this building, but, honestly, there is no place else for us to go. The school-age population has been exploding in the district and there’s no room anywhere. I did get one good and reasonable suggestion out of the shouting match, though. We have maintenance workers on their way with plywood to block the sight of the ripped-apart hallway from the students’ view. That should be completed right after lunch. Well, here we are,’ she said, pulling open the door of the trailer marked 201.

Inside, three frazzled-looking women all talked on phones while non-stop ringing continued in the background. ‘Oh dear,’ Rose said. ‘I’m going to have to recruit a couple of teachers to help out in here.’

Before picking up another call, a gray-haired woman said, ‘Rose, it’s been non-stop all morning.’

‘Sorry, Meredith, I’ll go get some back-up for you but, unfortunately, right now I need to pull someone off the phones to get some data for Lieutenant Pierce.’

‘Tiffany was the first one in this morning and probably needs a break from the calls more than anyone.’

‘Thanks, Meredith,’ Rose said and turned to Lucinda. ‘Meredith is our office manager and you’re in luck, Tiffany is our go-to computer nerd so you shouldn’t have any trouble getting what you need.’ After making introductions, Rose excused herself to find more staff to answer the incoming calls.

Lucinda explained what she needed to the short-haired blonde with intense brown eyes peering from behind a boxy pair of black glasses. In less than five minutes, the detective had a print-out of the staff names for the drivers of red pick-up trucks and another one with the students who drove the same type of vehicle.

Before going back into the main building to talk to any of the teachers on the list, Lucinda went to the parking lot to see what she could learn from looking over the vehicles. The first one she located belonged to Tilly Campbell, a math instructor and 4-H Club sponsor. She drove a full-sized pick-up with a crew cab. The bed had a black liner that was scratched and pitted as if it had seen a lot of hard use. It sat up a bit higher than the average truck, making it a good fit for the witness description. Although not brand new, it was only a couple of years old and its paint was still bright and shiny. Inside, the cab was a rolling disaster with piles of paper and dozens of pens and pencils scattered on the floorboards.

The next red truck, owned by chemistry teacher Chet Bowen, was a small, faded red, older-model Ranger. It had quite a few years on it and the bed was nearly scraped clean of paint. The cab, though, was spotless. The dash appeared polished, the steering wheel wrapped in leather and not a single piece of trash or paperwork could be seen anywhere. The only visible article inside was a neatly folded T-shirt that read ‘If you’re not part of the solution, you’re part of the precipitate’.

The third vehicle in question was the most likely suspect of all. A GMC Sierra Denali in metallic red with large, chrome-laden wheels. The rear sat up higher than the front, giving it the appearance of a sprinter ready for take-off. The bed was as spotless as if it never carried anything heavier than a grocery bag. The interior was clean with black perforated leather seats and a shiny, reflective peace sign dangling from its visor. The owner was Brittany Schaffer, an English teacher.

Lucinda went into the building and located Rose Johnson who set her up in a classroom and sent someone to find Annie Potts, a cafeteria worker who could assist Lucinda by rounding up the teachers she wanted to question. Before Rose left, Lucinda showed her the list of teachers and said, ‘Do any of them seem likely to have been involved?’

Rose thought for a minute and shook her head. ‘Chet Bowen sure isn’t – he’s the most boring man I’ve ever met. Oh, don’t get me wrong. Put him in front of a classroom to talk chemistry to students and he transforms into the most animated instructor you’ve ever seen. Let him talk about his favorite subject and his eyes twinkle, his hands fly and he bounces around the room as if every instant leads to a new and dramatic discovery for mankind. Anything else and he’s a major yawner.’

‘Maybe the chemistry of explosive reactions would interest him?’ Lucinda suggested.

‘Nah, not Chet. There’s not an extreme bone in his body. An unenthused Presbyterian, moderate Republican with a placid wife and two very well-behaved and equally boring children.’

‘So what about Tilly Campbell?’

‘She’s a real pistol from Texas: down-to-earth, with an uninhibited laugh and a devotion to livestock. She sees herself as an urban missionary for the wholesome farm life – but try as she might, she never seems to round-up more than a handful of students for the 4H Club. I doubt that she’d never get caught up in anything dicey.’

‘Brittany Schaffer?’

Rose rolled her eyes. ‘I swear I do not know how that woman managed to get a degree. I don’t think she’s capable of plotting anything but a party. She’s flighty and too flirty with male teachers and students alike – I’ve had to talk to her about that on more than one occasion since I came here as principal three years ago. And the way she dresses! I have had to speak to her about that more times than I can remember. In fact, I spoke to her about it this morning. Told her that dress she was wearing was perfectly acceptable for an all-staff day but I didn’t want to see it on a class day. She got all pouty with me, whining that it was a brand-new dress she bought especially to wear to school. I finally got her to promise not to wear it on campus when students were here but I doubt if she’ll remember that commitment for more than a week. As the common wisdom suggests, look up “sieve-head” in the dictionary and you’ll see her picture.’