“Yeah, I don’t see this being a good day for the school’s public relations department.”
The snow had been shoveled to clear the path, but a fresh layer had fallen to give the street a white sheen.
They followed the signs past a courtyard to a red-brick building. “This place is swanky. Remind me again how much it costs a year?” Jamison asked.
“Fifty thousand.”
“Dang.” Jamison pressed the button on the intercom. “Like my grandma Patty used to say, some people have more money than sense.”
Jess couldn’t help but smile. Jamison didn’t often speak about his family. He was almost as private as her when it came to protecting his secrets, but he had confided in her because they had been friends once.
More than friends.
Jess closed her hand into a fist. The tender flesh of her palm screamed out at the small movement but she needed the pain to focus her, remind her that she had lost the right to call him a friend that same night she had mangled her hand.
“Alere flammam veritatis,” a woman’s voice answered.
Jamison introduced them and then the woman buzzed them in.
“I wonder what their motto means.”
“Let the flame of truth shine.” Jess pushed the door open.
“I knew you would know.”
Jess’s skin warmed. He used to call her the trivia queen, back when they talked.
Jess looked around the room. Unlike the dormitory which maintained most of its original features, the office had been completely modernized. The décor was all done in shades of pale gray and white.
A receptionist sat behind a horseshoe-shaped desk. Her wiry gray hair was cut into a sharp bob that fell just below her ears. “Hello, I’m Ms. Stewart. Mr. Sturgeon is running behind schedule this morning. He asked me to tell you that he will call you to reschedule.”
Jess looked up at Jamison. He shot her a dubious glance that told her they both knew the principal was avoiding them. He wasn’t compelled to speak to them but she was fairly certain she could force his hand. “Oh, that’s no problem. We wanted to speak to some students anyway. We will just head to the main campus and start asking around and see what everyone has to say about what happened two nights ago.”
“Yeah, good idea.” Jamison turned to head for the door.
The wheels of the receptionist’s chair squealed and it was propelled backward as she bolted up. “No, actually… you’ve come all this way. Let me see if I can juggle some things around.” She sat down and picked up her phone. She spun her seat around so she was facing away from them.
She spoke in hushed tones. The only word Jess could make out was “prudent.”
Ms. Stewart turned to face them, her expression now an impenetrable, placid mask. “Mr. Sturgeon has ten minutes before his next meeting. He would be happy to fit you in just now.”
Jamison smiled, exposing two rows of straight white teeth. “Thank you.” He leaned down and whispered to Jess, “I just love it when people suddenly find it in themselves to be amenable.”
They followed Ms. Stewart to Mr. Sturgeon’s office. The space could easily have belonged to the CEO of a Fortune 500 company: everything was high-end, state-of-the-art. No expense had been spared in kitting out the room. Jess glanced at the stainless-steel frames on the wall. Mixed in with Mr. Sturgeon’s many credentials were pictures with former alumni. The photos were like a who’s who of the American political elite.
Jess glanced at a picture of Mr. Sturgeon with Chief Hagan at some black-tie event. She squinted at the silver pin on Chief Hagan’s lapel: a chalice with the Eye of Providence etched above lips with a finger pressed against them. She had seen that somewhere before: on Levi’s blazer.
She opened her mouth to ask what the pin represented, but before she could speak Mr. Sturgeon came from behind the desk, his hand outreached to shake hands, first with Jamison and then her.
“Thank you so much for coming out to see us today. I know how busy you must be. And, of course, thank you so much for helping us two nights ago until the police could come and deal with the situation. You were a tremendous help to Miss Crawford. I don’t think she could have dealt with the events, had you not been here. It’s such a tragedy—he was so young, had so much going for him.” He let out a dramatic sigh. “Again, thank you for coming in.”
Jess noted the way he had shaped the narrative to make it seem like he was grateful, even eager, to meet with them. Smart. He obviously had some people skills to be in the position he was. He would know that by being gracious, most people would be inclined to match his tone and intensity, but Jess wasn’t most people. Social engineering didn’t work on her because she knew the game and didn’t want to play.
“Can I get you something to drink: coffee, tea?”
“No, we’re fine, thank you,” Jess answered for both of them. She sat down before he had the opportunity to ask her to be seated.
She sat down, folded her hands, and crossed her legs to look as closed off as possible.
When Mr. Sturgeon realized Jess wasn’t going to say anything, he looked to Jamison, but he didn’t speak either. Mr. Sturgeon wanted them to speak first and show their hand—and she might have if he hadn’t been disingenuous.
Jamison got comfortable in his seat. He was a master at smoking people out. He had taught Jess most of what she knew. He knew that in novel social situations, people hated silence. The lack of communication was invalidating and off-putting. Jamison knew that and used it to his advantage. He could make people confess all manner of things without saying a word. It also didn’t hurt that he looked like he could snap someone’s femur with his bare hands.
Jess watched as the color in Mr. Sturgeon’s cheeks deepened ever so slightly. He cleared his throat. “So, I believe you’re here to discuss Levi Smith’s suicide.”
Jess nodded. “Among other things.”
His mouth pulled down into a pronounced frown. “It was such a shock.”
“Really?” Jamison shot him a dubious look. “After five kids? The first one would be a shock but number five I’m thinking more mild surprise.”
Mr. Sturgeon’s Adam’s apple bobbed up and down when he swallowed. “Yes… we have had an unfortunate start to the school year.”
“That’s certainly one way to put it,” Jamison said.
“When I spoke to Levi’s aunt, she was completely unaware of the other suicides. Is there a reason she wasn’t informed?”
“She is not his legal guardian.”
Annoyance prickled her skin. “Was Levi’s father informed?”
“I’m sure you appreciate that with minors there is an issue of confidentiality. It’s a—”
Jess held up her hand. She didn’t have the patience to listen to him talk in circles. “Were any of the parents informed, or did you rely on their kids filtering back the information?”
Mr. Sturgeon’s mouth tightened to a puckered white slash.
“What?” Jamison asked. His eyes widened in surprise as he realized the reason Mr. Sturgeon didn’t answer. “Did you not tell the students either?” Incredulity dripped from his deep voice.
Mr. Sturgeon cleared his throat again but he didn’t answer.
“Seriously? You didn’t tell them?” Jess demanded. “How could you keep that a secret? It would seem rather obvious that their friends were dying off. Where did they think they were going? What did you tell them had happened?”
Mr. Sturgeon took a deep breath. “This has been a huge learning experience for all of us. I’m sure you’ll appreciate that this is not something that any of us were prepared for. We have taken advice from professionals.”
“What professionals?” Jess asked.
“After Ryan Hastings’ death, the school board, along with our school psychologist, decided that we didn’t want to glamorize or fetishize suicide in any way. He was a very popular student and we didn’t want people copying him, so we decided to not tell the student body what had happened.”
“We see how well that worked out for you.” Jess’s head spun at the admission. Questions fired out of her from every direction. “So, none of the parents have been informed about what’s going on? You haven’t told the families affected that there have been other suicides?”
He shook his head. “This is a learning curve for all of us. We’ve taken the lead from our psychologist—”
“Who is that? I need a name.”
“Jim Iverson.”
Jess flipped open the pad and wrote down the name. “Well, Jim Iverson gave you some pretty shitty advice.” It was unprofessional of her to swear but she could not contain her anger. Kids had died. “Honestly, where did he do his training? Suicide is not contagious. Talking about it does not make it more likely.”
“This has been a learning experience for all of us,” Mr. Sturgeon repeated.
“Five kids have died under your watch. From where I’m sitting, you still have a whole lot to learn,” Jamison said.
“Kids aren’t stupid. They would have seen that their friends were missing. What exactly did you say happened to them?” Jess asked.
“You have to understand, we have three thousand students at this school. They come from every state in the union and every corner of the world. Kids come and go. There is a certain transient nature to a school of this caliber. For example, a sheikh has two sons here and they’re going back to Saudi Arabia at the end of the term. We also have an ambassador’s children here. When his term is over, they will return to Nigeria.”
“You didn’t answer my question,” Jess pressed.
“It is a very delicate situation and we had to respect the wishes of the families. The truth is, we took their lead. Whatever explanation they wanted, we went with that. Perhaps not surprisingly, the families didn’t want the circumstances surrounding the death of their children advertised.”
“Are you saying the parents wanted you to cover up their children’s suicides?”
Mr. Sturgeon gave a small nod. “It surprised me too. I try not to judge but… yes, I’m surprised and a little disappointed, I suppose, in the reactions from the families.” He shrugged. “I don’t know. I’ve never been in this position. I don’t know what I would do if the roles were reversed.”
Sadness pulled at Jess as she wondered if it was grief or shame that compelled the families to cover up the deaths of their sons.
“So now you see why our psychologist made the difficult decision not to tell the students. It would be too confusing to tell them half-truths, and it would invite questions we couldn’t answer without betraying the wishes of the families.”
Jess glanced down at her disfigured hand. With every heartbeat, pain pulsed in her palm. She knew all too well that shame and guilt twisted people, made them illogical, and colored every decision they made. She wanted to judge the families and the school, say that they had done the wrong thing, but she couldn’t. Even now, knowing the consequences of concealing her past, she knew she would do it over again because some things were so ugly they had to be hidden if you were going to survive. Maybe that was what the suicides had been for the families left behind.
“Obviously there is something happening at this school that is making these young men more susceptible to suicide. What is it?” Jess asked.
Mr. Sturgeon’s shoulders slumped. “I don’t know. I wish I did. They were all such good kids.” Sadness flashed across his tan features and his blue eyes glossed over with tears. For the first time, Jess did not question the genuineness of his response.
“Have you put them under undue pressure for academic achievement?” Jamison asked.
“Probably,” he admitted. “I’ve asked myself that so many times since Ryan died. Why? Why did it happen? What could we have done differently? I have always told them that these are the most important years of their life. But they’re not. It’s everything that comes after that matters. There are very few things that you can’t get over, get past. But not if you’re dead. Maybe that’s what I should have told them: don’t worry about being perfect, just make sure you don’t make any mistakes you can’t come back from.”
The weight of his words pressed down on Jess. She had needed that advice before.
“What are you doing to prevent this from happening again?” Jamison asked.
Mr. Sturgeon wrung his hands together. “This morning I had an emergency meeting with the school board. Obviously, I’d prefer that what I’m about to tell you go no further.” He took a deep breath like he was trying to fortify himself for what he was about to disclose. “We’ve mishandled this up until now. We did the best we could with the advice we were given at the time but clearly it was wrong. We realize that now and we are doing our best to rectify the situation. Crisis counselors are coming in today. We are going to sit down and come up with a plan of action and decide how we are going to explain the situation to our students. We need to have a hard look at our school and find out why these boys felt they couldn’t reach out to anyone. If there is any advice you could give us, I’m all ears. This is not what I thought I would be dealing with when I chose to become an educator.”
Jamison looked over at Jess, waiting for her to answer. She blinked. For a second she didn’t remember that she was in charge of the investigation. She rubbed the scar on her palm while she thought. Her instinct was to tell Mr. Sturgeon to monitor or even cut off the students’ access to social media but that would mean telling him about the suicide game, and she had been explicitly instructed by the director not to tell anyone. “I’m sure the therapists you’ve hired will have the best advice for this situation.”
She could only hope that was true.
Twelve
“Hang on, Stan. I know you’re hungry, buddy. Just give me a minute to get my keys.” She bent down to scratch her dog behind his ears before she reached into her pocket.
It was selfish for her to have a dog. She worked too many hours to give him the attention he needed. She felt guilty that he spent more time in Doggy Daycare than he did with her. She tried to make it up to him by taking him on her morning run but it wasn’t enough. He needed more. He deserved someone who could give him more attention but she couldn’t bring herself to rehome him. He was the only tenuous connection she had to Lindsay. Stan had been her dog.
“Okay, I’ll feed you. I always do. Please stop acting like you’ve never seen food. Someone is going to report me for animal cruelty.” As soon as she opened her apartment door, Stan pushed her out of the way, bounded inside, and ran straight to the kitchen.
Jess turned to put her keys down on the bookshelf but stopped when she saw the open lid of her fish tank and one of the fish lying dead beside it. She shook her head in confusion. She never left the lid to the tank open. She only opened the tank to clean it and give the fish their food pellet. Then she always immediately closed it. Always.
Before she could figure out how it had happened, a loud bang of her bedroom door slamming shut snatched her from her thoughts.
Her heart stopped with a thud. “Who’s there?” she demanded. She drew her gun from her running holster and slammed her back against the wall so no one could sneak up behind her. “I’m armed and I’ll shoot to kill.”
Her heart vibrated against her ribs, pumping so fast the beats merged. Stan whined in distress. “Show yourself!” she screamed, edging closer to her bedroom.
She opened the door with enough force to bang it hard against the wall. The door frame bit into her back as she rounded the corner. Her eyes darted around the room, taking in information, looking for the intruder, but she didn’t immediately see anyone. She threw open her closet door. “Identify yourself now or I will shoot,” she warned. Frantically, she pulled clothes off the hooks so no one could hide behind them.
She turned and looked under her bed. There was nothing there except a dusty suitcase.
Blood whooshed in her ears as her pulse pushed dangerously high. She swung open the door to the bathroom but there was no one there. She tugged at the shower cu
rtain. Metal pinged on the tiles as the rings went flying as she ripped the curtain from the hooks. With the final tug, the rail collapsed.
“Where are you?” she screamed.
The curtains billowed as a gust of wind blew through the window. She stood for a moment, dazed as she stared at the raised pane of glass. Someone had been in her apartment and killed her fish. But why? To send a message? Was it someone from this case or revenge for someone she had put away before? Dozens of names sprang to mind. She would check the status of all of them.
She pulled out her phone to call the police and her hand cramped in a painful spasm as she squeezed it. What would she tell them? That someone broke through her fifteen-point deadbolt to kill one of her fish? Or maybe they climbed up the drainpipe to the sixth floor and opened her locked window.
Oh God, she was insane.
Her back hit the tiles as she slid down the wall. She pulled her knees to her chest. She couldn’t be crazy. She wouldn’t let herself be. She was stronger than that.
Stan’s paws tapped against the hardwood floor as he ran through to the bathroom. He whined as he pushed up on her chin with his snout.
She looked down into his pleading eyes. He needed her to get her shit together and feed him. “It’s okay, buddy. We’re okay.”
Thirteen
Jess took two ibuprofens and swallowed them with black coffee. That would have to count as breakfast because she had been too spaced out that morning to eat. But she was okay now. It was a blip. Nothing to do with bereavement or trauma, just a shitty start to the day. It happened to a lot of people. She just needed to stuff it all away in the deepest recess of her mind and just get on with it like she always did.
She looked up when Tina entered the room.
“Good morning,” she said from the doorway, her laptop tucked under her arm so she could hold her coffee and open the door at the same time. Her hair was tied in a loose bun secured with a pen through the middle. She came in, put her laptop down on the Formica table, and plugged it in to charge. “Before you ask: none of the autopsy reports have come in from any of the kids at Gracemount, but the out-of-state ones have and I’ll keep working on the ones for the local boys.”
Catch Your Death Page 8