The Truant Officer (10 page)

Those words turned him into a zombie. He just sat quietly on the living room couch, while the FBI searched through Lilly’s things like she was some sort of criminal. They even took her computer and journal. He didn’t ask them what they were looking for, convinced that they wouldn’t have told him anyway.

The FBI stayed about an hour, before leaving him alone with a stomach tied in painful knots. He couldn’t believe he was actually wishing it were a gang initiation. Who knew what this Brett Buckley psycho would do?

The house was too quiet and Darren desperately needed to drown out the morbid thoughts shooting through his mind. So he turned on the television. The first thing he saw was Jessi Stafford. She was the last thing he wanted to see, but before he could turn the channel, she froze him with her words.

“This is Jessi Stafford reporting live from outside the Mirage Hotel and Casino in Las Vegas. The very place where wanted fugitive Lilly McLaughlin spent the night.”

Fugitive? Las Vegas? Darren had no idea what she was talking about. The Mirage’s fountains exploded into the air behind Jessi like they were competing with her for attention. He turned up the volume.

“Earlier this morning, I broke the story that Lilly McLaughlin, a teacher at South Chandler High, was not abducted by a gang, as our so-called competitors reported, but was taken by one of her students, named Brett Buckley.”

Darren watched as the pictures of Lilly and Buckley flashed on the screen, side-by-side. Then Jessi reappeared—she wore the same revealing top and ditzy smile from their interview this morning.

“But while Buckley’s motive was thought to be related to a teenage crush gone wrong, through my sources deep within the Chandler Police Department, I have learned that Lilly McLaughlin, thirty-two, and her student Brett Buckley, seventeen, were having an illicit affair. It was being investigated by the local police, with charges pending.”

Darren couldn’t believe what he just heard. All his senses froze.

“And while our competitors suggested that the couple most likely had traveled to Mexico, I have acquired Mrs. McLaughlin’s credit card activity, which led me to the Mirage for this exclusive report. I have also talked to witnesses that spotted the cozy couple in the casino.”

Darren tried to reach for the remote to turn off this horror movie, but he couldn’t. His arm wouldn’t move.

“This case is very fluid, and I will continue to break news from Las Vegas all day.”

The screen split, and a blow-dried looking anchor now took up the other half.

Darren’s lungs felt like he was trying to breathe under water, and his chest burned—his life was being ripped apart in crystal clear HD. The room began to spin and he no longer could fight off the images. He had visualized the boy with the intense eyes threatening his wife with a knife...but the two of them together? It couldn’t be!

The anchor spoke in a deep voice, “Jessi, you have been on top of this story for Channel-6 all day and night, including your exclusive interview with Lilly McLaughlin’s husband this morning. Knowing what we know now about the motive for her disappearance, it seems as if this is just another in what has become a national epidemic of teacher/student scandals, and it appears that Arizona is not immune from such predators.”

“That’s correct, Gil. My research has found that there have been well over a hundred arrests in the last decade in situations like this, and no telling how many that were never reported.”

“It sounds like Lilly McLaughlin could be in big trouble when she is apprehended. Arizona law prohibits sexual conduct, intentionally or knowingly, with someone under the age of eighteen. Since Mr. Buckley was only seventeen, this would be a class-six felony that could result in five to fourteen years in prison for her.”

“It might be a sad commentary on our society, Gil, but female teacher predators convicted over the past decade have done very little prison time, while their male counterparts convicted of similar crimes have received more severe sentences.”

The anchor added, “I was working in the Seattle area at the time when Mary Kay Letourneau was convicted of multiple liaisons with her underage lover, Vili Fualaau. If I remember correctly, she did prison time.”

“That is true, but she also was reported to have received a half million dollars from a national publication for rights to her wedding photos when she married Mr. Fualaau, following her release. The amount she actually suffered for her crime is very much up for debate”

“Prison time or not, I assume Lilly McLaughlin has put both her career and marriage in jeopardy. What could she possibly have been thinking?”

“What drives these woman is a mystery, Gil—is it lust, the thrill of the forbidden, or perhaps a form of mental illness? Nobody really knows. While cases like Letourneau and Debra Lafave have made national headlines, there have been hundreds of other cases ranging from a mother of four and wife of a prominent Albany, New York banker, who taught English at Christian Brothers Academy, to a twenty-nine-year-old Social Studies teacher from Colorado who had sex with one of her students on a field trip she chaperoned, the topper being that she was also the principal’s wife.”

“Thank you for the informative report, Jessi, and I’m sure if anyone will get to the bottom of Lilly McLaughlin’s motives, it will be you. But one last question about the husband you interviewed this morning, and who might be learning this about his wife right along with the rest of us—how do think he’s feeling right now?”

Darren concluded that if you are dead you have no emotions. To answer the anchor’s question, he felt nothing.

As they mercifully went to commercial, Darren saw his life floating away. He tried to get up and chase it, but he was paralyzed.

Chapter 20

Darren finally found the strength to turn off the television. He sat in silence for a few moments, and he started to put the pieces together. And his conclusion was that Jessi Stafford was an opportunist, and none of her sensationalism should be taken seriously. She had practically accused him of killing Lilly for God’s sake!

But while the report couldn’t possibly be accurate, he would concede that this was the theory being put forward by the police. And Jessi was their unofficial mouthpiece, which is how she got Lilly’s credit card in the first place. Longa also likely provided her the “affair with a student” theory.

Now the strange interrogation made more sense. The reason they weren’t in a hurry to find Lilly was because they didn’t believe she was in danger. It’s what Longa was going to tell him when the FBI burst in, guns blazing. But Darren was convinced they were wrong.

So he ignored the television report and returned to his original plan, which was to conduct his own investigation. His first thought was to confront Buckley’s parents. They would likely know if their son showed signs of being infatuated with Lilly. They also might be able to shed some light on where he might have taken her—if Jessi Stafford said they were in Las Vegas, then Darren was convinced that they were anywhere but there—and perhaps Brett had contacted them. Either way, two heads were better than one, and they had the same goal, which was to get Brett and Lilly safely home. The rest could be sorted out later.

Darren changed out of his uniform, and into a golf shirt and khakis. Lilly had kept a list of addresses and phone numbers of all the students involved in her weekend tutoring sessions. The address took him to an upscale gated community off Queen Creek Road.

He piggybacked another vehicle through the electronic gates, and quickly found the Buckleys’ impressive home. He parked Lilly’s Jetta on the curb and headed for the front door, noticing a Jeep Wrangler parked in the driveway next to a Ford Taurus. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed a young girl getting into the Jeep. She had a pretty face, except for the deep teenage scowl on it, and her hair was a rebellious combo of pink and blonde. She wore denim shorts with a pair of tattered flip-flops, and a T-shirt that read
What Are You Looking At?
The minute their eyes met she made an angry beeline for him.

“Are you Mrs. McLaughlin’s husband?”

When he replied that he was, she punched him in the jaw with a surprising right hook. And with their vast height difference, she had to work to do it. It confused him more than it hurt.

“That’s for your slut wife ruining my life!” she shouted, and then bolted for her Jeep.

Before Darren could even grasp what just happened, the wheels of the Jeep were laying rubber on the hot asphalt. He didn’t have time to analyze the strange incident—the only thing he could think about right now was Lilly, and getting her back. He marched to the front door with purpose. He was about to ring the bell when he noticed the door was cracked open. He walked in to find a surprise.

“What are you doing here?” he asked Agent LaPoint, who was meandering through the living room. The place looked like the model house for the planned community, and had a coldness to it.

“You might want to put some ice on your jaw,” LaPoint greeted him.

Darren felt his throbbing chin and realized she hit him harder than he thought. “Who was that?”

“That’s Rebecca, Brett Buckley’s girlfriend. She’s a feisty one—doesn’t take rejection well.”

“Where are Buckley’s parents? I want to speak to them.”

“On vacation in Hawaii. Second honeymoon or some shit like that.”

Darren could tell he was full of it—his eyes betrayed him.

Suddenly it hit Darren like another punch to the jaw. The FBI didn’t believe that Brett Buckley abducted Lilly any more than the local cops did. They viewed Lilly as a predator who ran off with a student, and took him over state lines, which was probably why the FBI was involved in the first place. This was a dirty trick—the FBI was supposed to be the hope he was clinging to.

“Lilly didn’t do what they say she did on television!”

“If you let me do my job, we can get your wife back in one piece and then the two of you can talk over whatever issues you have.”

Darren angered to tears. “I want the truth—was my wife having an affair with that student!?”

“Go home, Mr. McLaughlin—there’s nothing you can do here.”

Darren didn’t move.

LaPoint took a deep breath and slowly blew it out. “I’m sorry, Mr. McLaughlin. I really am.”

Chapter 21

Lilly led Nick by the hand out of the casino and into the lobby, where a twenty-thousand-gallon saltwater-aquarium was built into the wall behind the front desk. Lilly noticed that it contained sharks, but at the moment she was more worried about the sharks on dry ground.

They exited into the fresh air and speed-walked down a path that was lined with lush vegetation and exotic sculptures, arriving at the Bare Pool Lounge. It was aptly named, as it was a place known for its topless sunbathing. Even in the morning, a party was in full swing by the pool, DJ included.

Lilly never drank alcohol or took drugs, but she was still completely intoxicated. She stripped off her dress, casually tossed her heels onto a chaise lounge, and dove into the pool. Nick showed no fear, following her in au naturel.

They resurfaced in each other’s arms and kissed passionately. Nick pried his lips away and announced to the party, “We’re getting married!”

The drunken crowd cheered them wildly as they kissed some more. The crowd had no idea they were cheering a couple of fugitives.

The Mirage didn’t have an in-house wedding chapel, but offered a tram to Treasure Island, located at their sister hotel, the MGM Grand. The clerk warned them of a long waiting list, so they decided to hoof it down Las Vegas Boulevard, better known as the Strip.

They were doing everything fugitives shouldn’t do, with maybe the lone exception of painting a target on their backs. They stopped at the Little Church of the West at the south end of the Strip. The Little Church was a diminutive wooden chapel that was considered an antique by Vegas standards. It promoted its many celebrity weddings, including Britney Spears’ infamous drunken weekend that ended in an annulment.

Before entering, Lilly turned to Nick and said, “Any last secrets you want to let me in on before we become man and wife?”

He deflected, “You first—beauty before age.”

“I thought it was age before beauty?”

“You win on both counts.”

That scored him a couple of points. Lilly intended this exercise to be playful, but when she started to answer, things turned serious. “My secret is that even though I denied it to myself, the minute you walked into my classroom I knew our destiny was to be together.” Her face sunk. “But I also knew people would get hurt, and I did it anyway.”

Nick showed little emotion. He was still hurting too much from his own losses to worry about others. “That’s a little heavy. I thought you were going to tell me you listen to Neil Diamond or you fart in bed.”

She hit him playfully on the arm. “Stop stalling—your turn.”

His face turned solemn. “You know how I told you my parents were mega rich and all that?”

“They’re not?”

“Well, they were. The feds froze my father’s assets and took control of his bank accounts. Sasha and I will probably never see it again and will be lucky to pay off all the lawyer fees.”

“Why are you telling me this?”

“C’mon, Lilly, I’m not one of those stupid kids from your class. I know a sophisticated woman like you is looking for a successful man. Not some law school dropout who lives in a one room apartment, struggling to pay the minimum balance on his student loans each month.”

She tapped him on the head. About a sixty-forty split between playfulness and annoyance. “For someone so smart, you can be pretty stupid sometimes. The only reason I want to marry you is because I’m in love with you.”

A relieved smile spread across his face, and she kissed him once again.

With their pre-wedding jitters out of the way, they entered the chapel. Lilly wondered how far she was really going to take this. The foyer was full of tube tops and leather skirts—not exactly the traditional wedding garb that she wore when she and Darren got married. They were met by a woman who actually looked more like Elvis than the many impersonators who were milling around the chapel.