The Healer

by Dee Henderson

  “How did Greg get a gun?”

  “Greg wasn’t the type to carry one. I’m sure of that. But I could see Mark bringing one to school. Why do kids most often bring guns to school? To show them off to friends, to trade or sell them. I think Mark was trading guns with someone at the middle school, and they were in the locker room. Tim would have been at the PE teacher’s office, which puts him right there too, and as a result Tim was in the wrong place at the wrong time. He got killed.”

  “If Mark handled both guns, we should be able to prove it from prints. Lisa’s got the guns as a top lab priority,” Marcus said.

  “How many shots did each boy fire? Did Greg shoot at anyone other than Mark?” It was awful to think she was trying to put all the blame on Mark and make him the villain when Greg had clearly been carrying a gun and was chasing Mark. But Rachel couldn’t get past the fact she had met Greg and her heart was torn up at the fact he’d been involved.

  “We all want those answers, Rae. It’s going to take time to figure out. I’ll see you at nine, and hopefully I’ll have something by then. Would you keep an eye on Kate tonight? Make sure she gets something to eat?”

  “I already have. She groused because I ordered mustard on her cheeseburger.” Rachel smiled at the memory.

  “She has to give you grief about something.”

  “She’s bouncing back just fine. I’ll see you at nine.”

  Rachel closed the phone. Kate was bouncing back. Rachel wished she was doing as well. She cautioned every victim not to get stuck on the question: What could I have done to change what happened? And she was getting stuck.

  “So you think Greg was avenging his brother.”

  Cole broke into her thoughts and she tried to refocus. “It’s the only logical answer. He was a caretaker. His job was to protect Tim and he failed.”

  “Kids don’t pick up guns and just go after someone without a reason.”

  Rachel had seen kids react this way before, if not taken to the extreme of killing someone. “Maybe Greg thought Mark would get away with it, and he wasn’t going to let that happen.”

  Cole reached over and squeezed her hand. “Let it go, Rae. The boys made their choices. You can’t undo their decisions.” He turned into the hospital parking garage past a row of satellite television trucks.

  “How many reporters are now covering this shooting?” Rachel turned in her seat to see if she could catch station initials.

  “Two schools involved, brothers among the dead, a slow news day otherwise—they’ll make this story the headlines for the week.”

  “Which means copycats,” Rachel observed, knowing it was inevitable. “I don’t want to end up in the middle of the media tonight.”

  Cole parked on the fourth floor of the garage. “We’ll go through the geriatrics ward. That wing still has its own elevators.”

  “I like the sound of that plan. Where will we find Jennifer and Tom?”

  “She said the hospital had set aside a waiting room near the ICU for the families of the students brought here.”

  Rachel checked her watch and gathered the items she needed to take in with her. “Marissa went into surgery forty-eight minutes ago. There should be news by now.”

  “It was a bad fracture. Don’t expect her to be in recovery yet.”

  Cole escorted her through the hospital. They were directed to the private waiting room. She was relieved to see Jennifer in her wheelchair over by the window, not trying to be in the middle helping the families. Rachel crossed to her sister and knelt beside her wheelchair. Jennifer was pale and in pain, her exhaustion apparent, but her smile when she saw Rachel was still there. Rachel leaned over and gently hugged her. “Marissa?”

  “The surgeon is excellent, Rae. She should be in recovery shortly.”

  “I didn’t see her mom.”

  “She just went to meet Marissa’s grandmother downstairs.”

  Rachel rubbed Jennifer’s arm. She had been holding back the emotions until a safe moment and looking at Jennifer the tears returned. “Thank you for being there at the school. For saving so many lives. You and Lisa—”

  Jennifer smiled. “God knew,” she said softly. “He knew I needed to be back in Chicago. I’ve been watching the coverage. It’s been rough.”

  “Yes.” Rachel had been dodging the media, well aware that the scene was being transmitted live to the city.

  “How are the kids doing who saw it?”

  “Divided between those who felt they were able to help and those who felt like they froze. Between those who were in the parking lot and saw someone get hurt and those who only heard the shooting and were trapped not knowing what was going on.”

  “You need to make sure to get some sleep tonight.”

  “I’ll try.” Rachel held her sister’s gaze. “Would you let Tom take you back to the hotel? I’m going to need you as a sounding board this week.”

  “I’ve learned my limits, Rae. We’ll leave just as soon as Marissa gets to recovery. Have you seen Kate?”

  “She’s mad about someone shooting her, about all of us being there when it started. Give her a day to get past that. Lisa is busy at the scene tonight, and she promised to keep an eye on Kate for me too. I did nag her into eating since the painkillers were making her queasy.” Rachel looked around the room. “Tell me who’s here. I need to start making the rounds.”

  A movement at the door caught her attention. Marissa’s mom came in, accompanied by her grandmother. Following them was a man Rachel was overjoyed to see. “Marissa’s dad came.”

  “I was talking with Marissa’s mom when he called. He was in Milwaukee when he heard the news.”

  “Marissa will be so relieved to see him.”

  “Go talk with them; I’ll be a phone call away when you want to talk later.”

  “Thanks, Jen.” Rachel leaned over and hugged her. “I love you.”

  “I love you too. Go to work. And feel free to call tonight if I can help.”

  Twenty-seven

  Marcus parked the car down the block from Mark’s home Tuesday evening. “This is going to be interesting.” Brian Rice stood in his front yard having a heated exchange with a police officer, all of it happening under the view of the reporters across the street. Two officers were standing back a few feet ready to step in if needed.

  Lisa stepped out of the car. “His son is dead at school, and we’re executing a search warrant on his home. We already know from Carol’s murder investigation that this guy has a bad temper. The warrant covered the entire grounds?”

  “Yes,” Quinn confirmed.

  “Let’s make sure more than a couple officers search that utility shed and the backyard,” Lisa noted, glancing into the backyard.

  “Also the attic and the utility room,” Quinn added.

  They ignored the verbal shouting match going on as they walked up the drive. Marcus held up his badge and led the way inside the house. It was well lit up as officers conducting the search worked room to room. “Mark’s bedroom?”

  The nearest officer pointed. “Down the hallway, second door on the left.”

  The photographer was just finishing up his work.

  Marcus expected an angry kid with rock music posters, video games, a huge collection of music, and an emphasis on sports. “This is a dichotomy.” Mark Rice was into rock collecting. The bookshelf in his bedroom had two handbooks on rocks, and the rest of the shelves contained samples, neatly collected and labeled, some on display, others stored in clear plastic cubes. Quartz, graphite, pieces of fool’s gold.

  “Don’t change your impressions too quickly.” Quinn picked up one of the rocks and blew off the dust. “Some of these boxes have labels from before Mark was born.”

  Marcus watched over the technician’s shoulder as the computer was turned on. “Strike out here. He’s got it password protected. We’ll have to take it in.” He pushed around the books and loose papers on Mark’s desk. “Restaurant delivery menus, school papers, most of it out of date.”


  Lisa pulled a box from beneath the bed. “His more current reading.” She pushed aside the magazines the boy wasn’t old enough to own. “Quinn.” She picked up a thin rod and a rag and sniffed the cloth. “He was cleaning something that smells of gunpowder.”

  She handed it to a technician to bag as evidence.

  Marcus opened the closet. “Do you think Mark shot his mom?” he asked Lisa, sorting through T-shirts and jeans, checking pockets.

  “He proved today he would carry and use a gun,” Lisa replied. “His alibi for the night of Carol’s murder is that he was playing at a high school basketball game and his dad was with him. We’re still trying to get a time line that tells us if that’s airtight.”

  “Carol was shot with a .38. Neither gun recovered at the school was a .38.”

  “Which means if the gun turns up in this house, I would be very interested.”

  Marcus found nothing in the closet beyond clothes and shoes. “This place was cleaned up. How many kids have closets where you can see the floor?”

  “I’m getting that same feeling.” Lisa flipped through the boy’s music tapes. “We didn’t get here in time.”

  “Let’s go see what the other search warrants turn up among Tim and Greg’s things,” Marcus said.

  Cole walked out to the parking lot after the 9 P.M. update meeting. This Tuesday felt like a very long year. He was accustomed to disasters where he could do something, but he could do so little here. His work was over, and Rachel’s was just beginning.

  What he understood about her job had been transformed in the last few hours. She walked among the teenagers and they instinctively turned to her. They clustered around her in groups, seeking reassurance and a chance to share what they had experienced. She took the terror and the pain they felt and absorbed it. And when she wrapped her arm around the shoulders of a teenager, her empathy got through the pain and touched the sorrow. Her calm reassurance that the moment was over made it safe to grieve. She loved them and they knew it. She pointed the way to how to recover.

  Lord, Rae’s going to need Your strength. She’s carrying a difficult burden, and it’s not going to end anytime soon.

  She was one of many counselors but a vital one. She had worked the aftermath of other school shootings, but the realization of the expertise she had developed was just becoming clear. He’d watched her at the coordinators’ meeting. When the National Crisis Response Team began the briefing only six hours after the shooting, they sought Rachel’s advice for such questions as how best to reopen the school and when, based on her assessment of which grades and students were most affected.

  He knew how to fight a fire; Rachel knew how to heal a school— let students talk about it, grieve, and then help them get back to normal life. On big things and small she had practical advice. She recommended against the school using the normal bell to signal class changes during the first week, but to instead have a woman’s voice on the intercom; for security to be in uniform walking the halls to create a solid presence; that a memorial wall be set up in the cafeteria for students to share their memories; that updates be posted on the bulletin boards twice a day for how the injured students were doing. Information, consolation, and for the anger, direction for how to release it.

  Cole was grateful Rachel had her family intimately involved in this crisis. He’d left her talking with Marcus. Cole spotted Gage in the parking lot and headed over to see him. A press conference was scheduled after the meeting, and the parking lot had become a gathering place. “How are you doing, Gage?”

  Gage considered him. “About as well as you.”

  “That bad, huh?” Cole gave a rough smile. He leaned against Gage’s car and ran a hand through his hair. “I feel a bit like I got kicked by a mule.”

  “Marcus thinks a bullet missed Rachel by a matter of about three inches.”

  Cole nodded. “I heard. That kind of news ages a man.”

  “Tell me about it.” Gage tossed him a soda. “The O’Malley ladies took it on the chin. I was there when Kate finally sat down to let someone look at her arm. And Lisa paused to pass word that Jennifer may have to be admitted back to the hospital tonight to try to get the pain under control. She’s at the hotel now, but it’s not going well.”

  “I hadn’t heard about Jennifer.”

  “I spoke with her about an hour ago. She’s hurting.” Gage opened a soda for himself. “Any truth to the rumor you were the first one inside the boys locker room?”

  “I was there,” Cole replied. He didn’t want to ever again see something that tragic.

  “Want to trade information?”

  Cole broke a long-standing practice of avoiding the press without a qualm. “Deal.”

  Gage studied him. “It’s going to be that ugly of a case.”

  “Those boys got the guns from somewhere. This isn’t over, Gage.”

  “You want to meet tomorrow and exchange news?”

  “Page me. I’m going to try to get by the station house to move what I can from my calendar. Come by. If there are homemade cinnamon rolls, I’ll set a couple back for you.”

  “I’ll take you up on that.” Gage reached into his briefcase and pulled out a folder. He handed it to Cole. “Show these to Rae. On-line versions of the newspapers are a pretty good indication of what will be running in the papers tomorrow morning. The coverage looks to be over the top. The kids being interviewed are calling this a shooting gallery.”

  “From what I’ve seen that’s a pretty good description.”

  Gage nodded toward the church. “Rae’s going to have a long night.”

  “She wants to head back to the hospitals from here.”

  “Her kids are hurt. She couldn’t be anywhere else. If you get a fire call and need someone to relieve you, call me. I can spend a couple hours playing double solitaire with her in the hospital waiting room while she keeps students and their parents company.”

  “Thanks, Gage.”

  “It’s one thing for Rachel to work a natural disaster; it’s another to have her deal with kids killing kids.”

  “I hear you.”

  Twenty-eight

  Stephen tapped on Jennifer’s hotel suite door at 1 A.M. Wednesday. He’d been awake when her page came, unable to sleep, still trying to cope with the memories of having treated students who were shot. The suite door opened. He was met by Tom still wearing yesterday’s shirt and jeans, carrying a cup of coffee. “Is she still awake, Tom?”

  “Unlike me, Jen is wide awake. She’s starting a late night movie. The pain pills have finally kicked in but not the rest of it.” Tom stepped back to let him into the suite. “She has taken over the living room.” He turned. “We’ve got company, Jen.”

  “Company as in many?” Jen called.

  Tom looked over at him and Stephen just smiled. “What’s she need, ice packs?”

  “And the next meds in…twenty minutes.”

  “Go find a pillow and a bed. I can handle it for an hour.” Stephen walked into the living room. “Hi, precious.” He had expected to see her an emotional basket case, but there wasn’t a tissue box in sight. She looked a bit like she had the night as a resident when she had delivered her first baby. She had saved lives today. “Or should I say, Doctor Precious?”

  She smiled. “What’s that you’re carrying?”

  He set down the squirming jacket. “Your puppy sleeps in the strangest places.”

  Delighted, Jennifer picked up the puppy and cuddled. “I found him curled up around my cactus once, using the sticky points to scratch his head.” She nodded to the T V. “Sit and watch Godzilla versus Mothra with me.”

  “Let’s not and say we did. How are you faring?”

  She rubbed the puppy’s head. She glanced up, then back at the puppy. “I’m dying, Stephen.”

  There was no good way to answer that matter-of-fact statement. He leaned over and kissed her forehead. “Tom showed me your last blood work panels. I’m not burying you yet.” He didn’t want to
have a serious discussion tonight if he could avoid it. Too much had happened today.

  He settled down on the floor beside her and picked up a pretzel.

  “How are you doing?”

  He shrugged. “I was awake when you called.” He smiled at her. “You were the one who paged. What’s on your mind?”

  “I want you happy. Why don’t you get serious about seeing Ann? I like her.”

  He blinked and then laughed. “This is one of those middle-of-the-night pages.” He leaned over and tucked another pillow behind her so she wouldn’t wince as she turned her head. The entire O’Malley family felt the freedom to meddle, and they inevitably did it for the best of reasons. Jennifer had always been one of them who liked to meddle for a purpose. “I’m not interested in settling down, Jen, but your suggestion is noted. And Ann says she already has two guys in her life. Sorry. I like her and the boys, but getting serious? She’s more than an acquaintance but not nearly what you hope for. Anything else on your mind?”

  “I’ve got a list,” she admitted with a laugh. “But it’s just because I love you and you’ve got me curious. Why haven’t you moved yet? You’ve been talking about it for so long.”

  “Find my place in the country where I’m more likely to treat broken arms and heart attacks than gunshot wounds?”

  Jennifer nodded.

  He thought about it. “Someone else would have to watch out for Kate and the inevitable trouble she gets into. I’ve patched her up too many times this last year to want to move very far away. I think I’ll hold off on any decision until she’s settled.”