by S. B. Cody
“Do you remember who it was?”
“I wish I did.”
“Jesus Christ.”
“Uh-huh… So Devin’s probably going to be serving me my papers pretty soon. But, Jesus, I don’t even care about that anymore. Did I let this whole thing happen somehow?”
Connor watched a tormented look come onto Milton’s face. It wasn’t too different from the one that Connor had when he first heard about Bradley Neuman. If it turned out that one of the shooters did come out of his class, then that look may never leave Milton’s face. Connor’s heart broke as the once jovial teacher seemed on the precipice of becoming a blubbering mess. “You can’t know that,” Connor said, hoping to offer some small bit of comfort.
“Well, we might know pretty soon.”
“Whoever it was, they would’ve found a way somehow. You having them sign a sheet was not going to stand in their way.”
“Yeah. Maybe you’re right,” Milton said. But it was clear to everyone that he didn’t really believe it. Possibly he never would. “See you later, Sully,” Milton offered, wanting little to do with this conversation anymore. Connor watched yet another victim of the shooting skulk away.
For the next fifteen minutes, Connor looked down at his stack of ungraded papers, attempting to will himself into actually grading them, but his doubts and worries haunted him. He walked himself back through Natalie’s house, wondering if he may have missed something. He looked back at her spartan room. The desk that was much cleaner than his could ever hope to be. The little leather case that tumbled from her closet. The notebook that came with it… And with that something else wiggled itself to the front of Connor’s mind. Inside that notebook had been a small message. What had it been? He could picture the curving letters. The pitch-black ink. What did it say? From the fog of his memory, two words came forward: “fortuitous destruction.” What did that mean? Anything?
Turning away from his papers, Connor clicked away at his computer and googled the term. He scrolled down the first page hoping to see anything that sparked something. The last result on the page did the trick as he saw the words, “with all beings there must be much fortuitous destruction.” That was it. He could see the whole message written in the notebook now. What did it mean? A quick click on the link showed him that it came from The Origin of Species.
Connor turned and looked down at the floor of his room. Tucked up by the bookcase that sat behind his desk was a copy of that book itself. He fished it up and began flipping through it, wondering if he might find where the statement was. Maybe it could shine a little light on what that meant. Why the hell do I have this here, anyway? Connor wondered as he flipped through the book. That’s right, he thought as the answer came to him. Richard had borrowed it from me. The flipping of the pages slowed down as that last thought cemented itself. Richard had borrowed it. Natalie’s boyfriend.
“Milton!” Connor cried as he burst up from his seat. He practically tripped over his feet as he clambered out of his room and down the hall. Milton poked his head out of his room having heard the cry.
“Yeah?” he asked. His once boisterous voice was now just above a whisper.
Connor slowed his run, came to a halt, and looked around awkwardly, realizing that he’d come off far too urgent. “I… I was just wondering if I could see your class list.”
“Get in line. Cop took a look at it too. Why do you want it? You gonna try to solve this thing yourself?” It was Milton’s attempt at his usual kind of joke, but it sounded forced coming from him now.
Connor chuckled in embarrassment, for the first time realizing that that’s just what he had been doing. He had never really given any thought to all that he had done. Just kind of hoping he’d stumble on something to clear Dennis. But doing that would most likely mean finding who really had done it. “Just curious, I guess,” he told Milton.
“Whatever,” Milton replied as he beckoned Connor to follow him. He went to his computer and pulled up the roster. “Take a look,” he said as he turned the computer around. Connor scanned the screen, his eyes coming to a stop at the name, “Richard Lowe.”
Connor stepped back a bit, his stomach turning over. Natalie. A quote from Darwin. Video of someone coming out of his class. All the strings led right back to Richard Lowe. But no, it couldn’t be. Richard was a lot of things. A little pompous. Stick up his ass. But he couldn’t have been a killer. Guy didn’t let a speck of mud hit his shoes much less a splatter of blood. After all, these could be coincidences. But how many were too many?
40
Brody drove over to the cemetery to visit Mandy. He hadn’t been by in more than a year. He kept telling himself he would. Even gotten in the car a few times, but could never actually start it. Each time he imagined looking on at the tombstone and seeing the epitaph having changed to “It’s all your fault.” The image of that was enough to send him fleeing back into his house. Now he knew it to be the time.
As he walked amongst the tombstones snow began to fall and dust the ground below him. He felt it appropriate. Mandy never felt happier than when it snowed. If she saw even a flake she would beg to go outside. She’d run around with her face in the air, sticking her tongue out, catching as much as she could. Brody could recall once when the snow had grown high enough that it towered over her. He watched her through the window as she fell and sank into it. He rushed out to her, convinced she’d be in tears, but as he looked down at the hole she had made, he just saw her giggling.
Brody reached the headstone. He had wanted to get her something ornate, but the most he and Christine had been able to afford was a flat slab. Brody looked down on it: Mandy Morgan: Her smile never wavered. He took a seat on the ground. The cold had frozen it solid. He imagined the gravediggers breaking their shovels as they went to work. The winter air pricked at his skin like pins stabbing his cheeks.
Brody would sit there for a whole hour, simply looking on at the headstone the entire time. He kept trying to think of something to say, but nothing came. And he couldn’t imagine the point. When all was said and done she would still be there, and he would still be to blame.
From his pocket, he felt his phone. Taking it out and glancing at the screen he saw that Kara was calling. He silenced it and shoved it away. He couldn’t speak to her right now. Not yet. Not until he had gotten his head back on straight.
41
The clock neared 7:30, and Connor hadn’t left his classroom. He was content to stay there until the janitors forced him to. An hour after school had let out, Brandy had called, inquiring into what he was up to. He simply told her he had a lot of grading to do, knowing she wouldn’t like the idea of him playing Sherlock Holmes. Every couple minutes he would stop and wonder to himself what the hell he was doing. He told himself to put all of this down. Wherever this road led, it ended with one of his students being a killer. And once again, he would wonder if he should have known.
He pored over his copy of The Origin of Species trying to find out where that quote from Natalie’s notebook had originated. Beside him, on a piece of paper, he’d written the quote out in his chicken scratch. Everything he had stumbled across whirled around in his head, and it all formed one picture: Richard. One part of him screamed to call the police. Another part screamed that he couldn’t send Richard down the river without knowing for sure. But he had to admit that he was in over his head. Dennis would be starting his second life sentence before Connor found something concrete. He took his wallet out and withdrew Kara’s card back from when he’d first spoken to her. He punched in the number on his cell phone and listened to the ring on the other end.
“Detective Smalls,” Kara’s voice answered.
“Yes. This is…” Connor didn’t know where to start. This wasn’t exactly the kind of phone call he generally made.
“Yes,” Kara said, prompting him to continue.
“This is Connor Sullivan. From West High.”
A brief pause came as Kara felt taken aback by the random call. “What can I
do for you?” she asked incredulously.
“I believe that I found something.”
“Found what?”
“I think it could lead you to the shooter.”
“What is it?” Kara’s voice perked up at this, hoping the puzzle pieces had slid into place.
“I… Is there a way you could come by and see it? It’s not something I can really explain.”
“Well, why don’t you bring it to the station? I’m still here.”
“This isn’t something I want getting around. I could be wrong, and I don’t want to throw anyone under the bus.”
“Very well. Your address?”
“I’m at the school. Call when you get here, and I’ll let you in.”
“I’ll be there in fifteen minutes.” She didn’t bother saying goodbye.
Connor hung up and looked back down at the mess before him. The words on the page began to blur together from scanning the book for the last hour. He leaned back and rubbed his eyes to the point where colorful shapes popped up in front of him. He could also feel the walls of his bladder start to expand. Figuring he deserved a small break, he came from behind his desk and headed out towards the bathroom. Along the way he texted Brandy, letting her know that he’d be home soon, not even knowing if it were true.
The halls were as dark as he’d ever seen them. Without the mob of students, the halls echoed like a cave.
From the stairwell, Richard poked his head out watching Connor head down the hall. At the end bell he had ducked into an upstairs bathroom and stayed there until he knew that the school had cleared out. Ever since Connor had inquired about Natalie, Richard’s instincts kicked in, wondering why Connor would ever be so curious. And then he followed as Connor paid a visit to Natalie’s house. He didn’t care for Connor’s persistence in the matter, knowing that it could lead nowhere good. Richard crept along the hall to Connor’s room, knowing that he had the school to himself now. The lone janitor had been knocked unconscious and stashed away in a supply closet. Richard stopped short of killing him, not wanting to unless necessary.
Walking up to Connor’s desk, he saw Darwin’s book lying open. Laying down next to it was a scrap of paper with a quote on it that Richard found all too familiar. The same quote that he had passed along to Natalie as he prepped her. A list of Milton’s class as well, Richard’s name circled. So he had not been mistaken to sense Connor’s misgivings. He had gone this far, and would not let some second-rate teacher bring it crumbling down. Richard left the room and followed Connor’s trail, but not without first taking Connor’s keys and locking the door behind him. He came to a stop outside the bathroom as he heard muffled babbling coming from inside.
After his message, Brandy had called Connor desperate for more than some throwaway text.
“What are you still doing there?” she asked.
“I… I got work to do,” he told her, having nothing else to say.
“Something is going on with you. You’re more distant than usual.”
Connor said nothing. He couldn’t very well argue. She was right.
“Well?”
“Nothing.”
“Please come home. You’re scaring me.” He expected her to start yelling, but he could tell that the fear was real.
“Okay, I’ll be there soon.” He had nothing else he could say. He only hoped he wouldn’t have to wait on Detective Smalls for long. He hung up the phone, hating himself for what he was doing to his own wife.
As he went to exit the bathroom, the door swung open and Richard appeared before him as if he had commanded the door to allow him in. Connor jumped back, at first not even realizing who it was. As it all became clear, he looked the young man up and down, perplexed by the image in front of him. Richard still carried the bedraggled look from when Connor had last spoke to him. The same scruffy beard. Same loose, ratty shirt. But now it all seemed unnatural on him, and he wore it with disdain.
“Richard? What the hell are you doing here?” Connor asked. All of this was so sudden that all thoughts of Brandy now left him.
“Why have you been asking about her?” Richard replied, his eyes never blinking.
“What are you talking about?”
“Natalie. Why have you been asking about her?”
“I…” Connor stopped mid-sentence, not sure how to answer.
“You asked around about her. You went to her house. And we both know where you saw that quote you have jotted down in your room.”
Connor felt himself become light-headed at what he just heard. The room began to tilt and tumble before him as the picture grew clear for him. There had been one too many coincidences. “Richard? What’s going on?” he choked out as his eyes wandered down and saw that Richard’s hand rested in his pocket. And had been ever since he stepped into the bathroom.
“What did you find out?”
“It was you, wasn’t it, Richard?” Their eyes fixed on each other, Richard’s gaze not breaking for a second, not even as he withdrew the gun from his pocket.
“Did I not serve Clements up on a platter for everyone?”
Connor wavered from side to side not knowing whether he would faint or throw up. He couldn’t even separate Richard’s words from the clamor inside his head.
“Why?” he said, his own voice sounding like a foreign language to him.
“Don’t give me that, Connor,” Richard spat. It was the first time he’d used his teacher’s first name, and he said it with such contempt. “Don’t act like you suddenly care about the swine that go here. We both know how much you hated them. They dragged you down. You should thank me for thinning the herd.”
“Thinning the herd? Who the hell do you think you are?”
“I’m fortuitous destruction.”
“You’re insane.”
“Who have you talked to?” Richard demanded as he started to raise the gun.
“What?”
“You’ve been running around like Columbo. I want to know who you’ve talked to.”
“No one.”
“Bullshit!” Richard screamed, pointing the gun straight out.
“Put the gun down,” Connor pleaded.
“Don’t waste your breath. We both know how this is going to play out.”
“Don’t do anything stupid.”
“Please. So do you have anything to tell me?”
Connor’s silence answered the question.
“Fine. I really didn’t want you to end up like the rest of them, but so be it.” Richard’s arm extended a bit more, making his intentions clear. In that instance, Connor took action. Not until it had all ended could he even say how it happened. The sight of Richard’s finger fluttering over the trigger pushed him into gear. Connor leapt forward, covering the couple feet between him and Richard. The whole scene caught Richard off guard, not giving him time to react. Connor angled his shoulder and threw it into the young man’s chest. The two of them drove against the wall. Richard collapsed to the floor. On shaking legs, Connor reached for the bathroom door and yanked it open. He rushed into the hall, his feet sliding the entire way. Grabbing onto the wall, Connor regained balance and took off running. He whipped out his phone and attempted to dial 911, but his fingers tripped over all the buttons.
Reaching the staircase, he flew up them as a couple shots rang off behind him, one even landing right at his feet. At the top of the stairs, Connor sprinted towards the front doors, but when he reached them, it was like running into a brick wall. He tried it twice more, but the truth became clear. The doors had been locked. And about a full hour before it should have been. That’s because for all of Richard’s faults, the kid was a planner. After having eliminated the janitor from the equation he had taken the keys and locked up the building. It hadn’t taken long. All but a few exits had already been taken care of. That left Connor trapped and at Richard’s mercy.
Connor could hear his student coming up the stairs. He took off the other way and dashed back the way he came. As Connor reached the hallway
intersection, Richard came to the top. Connor swerved left and sped the other way. A couple more shots rang out behind him, but he knew better than to look back.
“Oh fuck you. Where do you think you’re gonna go?!” Richard’s voice chased after him. Connor thought that over himself, wondering if he had anywhere to go, anything to do. At this moment he wasn’t even sure of where he was headed other than away. Ahead of him lay another stairwell. Connor reached them and bound down a few steps at a time. As he reached the first landing his feet twisted over themselves and sent him tumbling. He didn’t waste a second springing up and going the rest of the way. Down the hall he could see his classroom off to the side. He could get in there and barricade himself once again. But once he reached there that door proved to be a dead end as well. A search of his pockets produced nothing. Another exit had been blocked.
Panic threatened to set it in, but Connor didn’t let it. He sprinted away, again on the lookout for anywhere he could stash himself. Doing a full circle, Connor came back to the main stairwell, but tucked himself underneath them this time and rolled a trash can in front of him. He knew it was a sorry excuse for a hiding spot, but Detective Smalls had to be here soon. He didn’t dare actually call the police. He needed to remain quiet so as not to clue Richard in on his location. So all he could do was wait and hope.
Kara pulled up to the school, her phone glued to her ear. “Brody, you need to pick up your goddamn phone,” she said in an exasperated sigh. She had tried him five different times since getting Connor’s call, but kept winding up at voicemail. “I got a call from one of the teachers we interviewed. I might be onto something. Meet me at the school,” she said, leaving him a message. She hung up as she swerved the car into a spot.
Richard had stopped his fast pursuit and now took his time as he hunted through the halls. “I don’t know what you think you’re doing,” he called out. “It’s just you and me. Please don’t make this worse. I’m gonna find you. There’s only so many places you could be.”