The Truant Officer (21 page)

“You had your chance.”

She smiled at him. “Cheer up, Run DMC. We’re going to a party.”

Chapter 46

The party was at the Questa Vida Golf Course. Darren had played there a couple of times with Treadwell, or as Mark Twain noted, spoiled a few good walks. When he asked Becks what kind of party it was, she shrugged and replied, “Typical high school.”

If there was any lesson learned today, it was that adults and high school parties don’t mix. But on the ride over, Darren saw it as a chance to put together the puzzle of what happened. People like LaPoint and Mara Garcia thought they knew what went down, but these kids had firsthand knowledge. Going to this party was like infiltrating the enemy on an intelligence-gathering mission.

The party centered around a beer keg that was planted in a sandy bunker on the eighteenth hole. The night was lit by a full moon that reflected off the dewy emerald lawns. Teenagers huddled in circular groups, sucking beer from plastic cups, their voices bouncing off the desert night.

Becks explained that a classmate of hers, Kevin Chambers, was the son of the club pro, which unofficially allowed them after-hours access. Darren studied the attendees and recognized a few of them from Lilly’s tutoring sessions. He got stares, but was convinced they were related to his age. He had changed into an Air Force Academy sweatshirt and jeans. He also wore a faded Red Sox cap that he pulled down as far as possible.

“They think you’re the bacon,” Becks informed him, noticing the stares. Because he didn’t speak teenager, she translated—‘bacon’ meant police.

Their attention was diverted by a screech. All heads turned to witness two speeding golf carts crash into the bunker and roll over, just missing the precious keg.

“Total morons,” Becks said with a sad shake of her head. She explained that it was the Meyer brothers, who would always play “drunken crash up derby” with the golf carts, despite having ended up in the emergency room on several occasions.

“What kind of parents let their kids go to a beer bash on a school night? Darren asked. He couldn’t get past it.

“Pretty much everyone here has been accepted to college. That’s all parents around here care about, so they can brag to the neighbors and return to their Oxycontin. Any excuse to get rid of the kids is a good excuse.”

Becks led him into the bunker. Darren didn’t think drinking alcohol with minors seemed like a good idea, but wanted to make it look good to help him fit in, or at least not be seen as the bacon.

A surfer-looking kid wearing a Steve Nash basketball jersey was manning the keg like a bartender. Becks gave Darren the impression of being the high school outcast, but she seemed to have a bond with the surfer guy, whom she greeted with a complicated handshake. “Good seein’ ya here, Becks. Totally whack what Brett did to you. You’re way better than that beggar.”

“Thanks, dude,” Becks replied, as he filled her cup with beer, expertly removing all foam.

“You’re looking butter tonight. If you’re looking to rebound like Rodman, I’m your man.”

“You know I’m always a sucker for an old-school NBA reference, but I already got me a new guy,” she said and introduced Darren as Run DMC.

The surfer looked at him with a spacey grin, “I like your look, dude—you got that creepy molester thing going on.” Darren didn’t know how to take that, but the tone was complimentary, so he just nodded his head and accepted his cup of beer.

As they ventured into the fairway, their path was cut off by a pack of scowling teenage girls wearing revealing outfits. Becks didn’t look particularly happy to see them, referring to them as her frenemies.

“Where’s Brett?” the first girl asked. Her friend than added, “Oh yeah, he married Mrs. McLaughlin.” The first girl laughed and followed up with, “An F in the bedroom equals an A in the classroom.”

Becks faked a laugh back in their direction. “You look great, Kristi—glad to see the bulimia is really working out for ya.”

Without warning, one girl began sizing-up Darren. An uncomfortable feeling came over him and he inched backward. He recognized her. She was the cheerleader-type that Becks got into the shouting match with at her locker earlier in the day. Her gawk continued to bore a hole in him, but it wasn’t because she recognized him as the husband of the aforementioned Mrs. McLaughlin.

Cheerleader turned to her friend and said, “Looks like Becks found a daddy of her own for a little payback.”

“Maybe she like joined the Cougar Hunt,” the other girl added. “Only in reverse.”

“She has a long way to go to catch Brett. I hear Mrs. McLaughlin was a ten pointer.”

They both looked at Darren. “What do you think this one’s worth?”

Cheerleader snickered. “Maybe like negative-two points.”

The girls mocked him with another laugh. Then after volleying a few more insults back-and-forth with Becks, they headed off to join the rest of the pack.

When the coast was clear, Darren asked Becks, “Cougar Hunt?”

“Cougar is a term for attractive older women who seek younger men.”

“I know that, what does it have to do with Lilly?”

“My bad—didn’t think you were up on anything that occurred after 1988. Basically, the immature guys at school have bets going on who can hook up with the most cougars. And they use a point system based on hotness level, as determined by the village idiots themselves. You should be proud, your wife is a ten-pointer,” Becks explained in her heaviest sarcasm. “And they get double points for a cougar cub.”

“Cougar cub?”

“If they get her pregnant.”

What was wrong with these kids?
He thought of his wife being part of some sick game. The taste of vomit filled his mouth. “This stuff really goes on?”

“Welcome to sex-ed, Millennium Generation style,” Becks said with a shrug.

It seemed that English wasn’t the only class Lilly taught. And with that realization, Darren puked his guts out.

Chapter 47

With an assist from Becks, Darren steadied himself. The spinning slowed, and he regained his bearings.

The good news, according to Becks, was that many of the partygoers witnessed him unload his Cholla Burger onto the fairway, and they no longer believed he was the police. Sadly, it was the best news Darren had heard in the last twenty-four hours.

Becks moved toward a group of boys who were huddled on the green, and Darren followed.

She gave him the lowdown on the group as they approached. The Meyer brothers were there, still quarreling with each other over their crash. Kevin Chambers was the preppy leader with a sense of entitlement as big as the Grand Canyon. He was headed to Arizona State next year on a golf scholarship, hyped to be the next Mickelson.

Chris Westmoreland was the quarterback of the football team and was strangely proud that his mother had been the highest rated “prize” before Lilly joined the “hunt.” He greeted Becks with, “Too bad Brett couldn’t make it, I hear he’s on a hunting trip in Vegas.”

Inebriated laughs filled the air, and one of the Meyer brothers added, “Ten pointer, bro,” and imitated shooting a basketball.

Becks was not one to back down. “If Meyer knocked-up your mother, what would you two be, like, jackasses once removed?”

“My mom is divorced, her business is her business,” Westmoreland responded to the laughs.

Becks wouldn’t let up, “So Westmoreland, how many points did you get for playing hide the jockstrap with Coach Jenks? He’s quite a lollipop—I’m especially attracted to his stylish ear-hair.”

“How do you think he got the starting position,” Kevin Chambers chimed in with an arrogant laugh.

Westmoreland shrugged, “Hey, I’d be bitter too if my boyfriend climbed up Mount McLaughlin and planted his flag. I’ve got to give it up to Brett on that one.”

Becks looked ready to fight him. “Spare me the details of your man-crush. How long was it going on?”

“You’re just pissed that your teacher beat you out for prom queen.”

“I’m serious.”

“About a month ago I got a call from Chambers, informing me that Brett asked him to open up the course. He needed a place to do some hunting. So we met up here, and Brett was already waiting for us. We waited for like an hour and then a SUV pulls into the parking lot. I didn’t know what I was expecting, but it sure wasn’t that hottie English teacher, dressed totally stripper. When I see her, it blows my mind.”

“That’s not hard top do,” Becks sniped.

Westmoreland ignored her. “At first she’s totally pissed that me and Kevin are there, especially since we have her for class. She started yelling at Brett—thought I could trust you and shit like that, said you wouldn’t tell anyone. She stormed off. Brett followed and they got into this intense conversation for like fifteen minutes. But then they came back. We opened the equipment shed just off the sixteenth, and let nature take its course.”

Chambers eagerly jumped into the conversation, “There’s a window in the back where if you climb up on the garbage dumpster, you can see into shed.” He smiled coyly. “And of course, we did this to make sure the points were gained within the rules of the game.”

“Of course,” Westmoreland seconded with a big grin.

Darren’s anger intensified as he viewed this evil circle of laughter before him. He wondered how many points someone would get to mutilate these punks and use them to fertilize the golf course, but he felt Becks subtly hold him back. If Becks had become the voice of reason, then they might be in real trouble.

At the same time, Kevin Chambers began staring at Darren. Before that, it was like he wasn’t even there. When Chambers whispered to the Meyer brothers and they exchanged knowing laughter, Darren knew he was busted.

Westmoreland was not in on their discovery, and continued. “Brett said they had been flirting for a while and that Mrs. McLaughlin’s husband was a total tool who couldn’t satisfy her.” As the laughing intensified, Westmoreland flashed a stupefied look. “What?”

They looked at Darren and laughed.

“He’s the husband, isn’t he?”

Their laughter turned hysterical.

Darren was about to explode, but Becks stepped in. “You’re an asshole, Westmoreland,” she shouted as she dragged Darren from the group. She turned to Darren and said, “The problem with high school is that it’s so high school.”

If her aim was to comfort him, she failed. And strangely, Darren’s resolve to get to Lilly grew even stronger after what he’d heard. The sordid tale actually alleviated his biggest fear—that his wife and Brett Buckley were in love—she was just a physical object to him. A ten-pointer. He needed to get to her and let her know that she was part of some twisted game and the rest he was willing to work through. He would believe even the lamest of excuses—that she was drugged, that the students threatened her if she didn’t go through with it, or that she was depressed from their failure to conceive and sought the arms of another, with Darren gone all the time—he didn’t care, as long as they could be together again.

“I’m going to drop you off, and then I need to get to Lilly,” he said.

Becks said nothing this time, but instead put her hands on his chest like she was some sort of healer. She pulled them away and acted like they were covered with a sticky substance.

“What are you doing?” he asked.

“Seeing how much sap you actually have. Those guys might be embellishing, but they aren’t smart enough to keep a story straight. They weren’t making it up.”

“Thanks for your backseat mothering,” he turned it around on her, “but last I checked, marriage is for better or
worse
. When you become an adult, then maybe you’ll understand that type of commitment.”

She put her hands together and dramatically acted like she couldn’t get them apart. “So much sap!”

He ignored her theatrics and walked briskly to the car. But like a flash of lightning, she snuck behind him and grabbed the keys away. “I might be a little buzzed, but you are legally insane, so I’m the lesser of the evils to drive.”

Before he could even argue, she was behind the wheel and had started the car. He wasn’t planning on being stranded at a high school beer-bash and hopped in the passenger side. As they moved down Riggs Road, Darren became overwhelmed by what he just witnessed. “I can’t believe those kids are involved in something as sick as that.”

“Teenagers are just as horny and mixed-up as they’ve always been. It’s just that the parents suck a lot more than they used to, so they’re allowed to act on it.”

“God, when I was in school you just hoped to get to second base before you graduated. And I’m not
that
old.”

“Well, these days second base is hooking up with your teacher and taking her on a road trip to Vegas. You should see what third base is.”

“I’m not sure I want to know.”

“Third base is when the jilted girlfriend takes the teacher’s husband back to his place and gives him the best revenge he ever had.”

She beamed an impish smile and hit the accelerator.

Chapter 48

Eicher was quickly running out of time and witnesses, so he decided to head directly to the source.

Alexei Sarvydas was housed in a collection of cinder blocks in Lower Manhattan called MCC. Even as a US Attorney, he had to maneuver through the heavy checkpoints of prison security. He was forced to leave all his belongings with a guard and had his hands coded with incandescent ink. But before he left his cell phone behind, he received a call from Dava.

In a rare moment of good fortune for them, Rachel Grant’s mother had traveled to Manhattan in her quest to find her daughter. Dava was also able to determine that Alexei owned the strip club where Rachel had worked.

They needed to be working on two fronts to try to plug this dam. Eicher would conduct the questioning of Alexei, while Dava handled the situation with Mrs. Grant. He instructed Dava not to reveal the details of her daughter’s death until she drained all the information she could out of her. It sounded callous, but Eicher thought she might shut down emotionally once she knew her daughter was gone. He’d seen it before. There was nothing they could do now to bring Rachel back, but it was possible that Mrs. Grant might unknowingly have useful information for their case.