Marie asked, “Is he going to live?”
“He’s undergoing surgery,” Decker said.
“Oh dear God!” She turned to her husband. “We have to pray for him.”
“Later.” Quiller turned to Wynona. “Who shot him?”
Wynona said, “That’s what we’re piecing together.”
“What have you been told?”
Wynona said, “How much is your client willing to cooperate?”
Quiller said, “If she cooperates, what can you do for her?”
“Provided she’s not the shooter—”
Darla said, “I’ve never shot a gun in my life! You already tested my hands for something.”
Quiller said, “She came out clean.”
“Maybe she washed her hands,” Wynona said.
“I swear I didn’t shoot anybody.” The girl bordered on hysteria.
Quiller said, “If she cooperates and isn’t the shooter, what can you do for her?”
Wynona looked at Decker who nodded. “What do you have in mind?”
“She’s a minor, you know.”
“She’s seventeen, Counselor. We’d have no trouble trying her as an adult for kidnapping and attempted mur—”
“What!” Darla shouted out.
“Calm down, Darla!” Quiller said. “What can you recommend to the D.A.?”
“What do you want?”
Quiller said, “Before she does anything, she needs to undergo immediate rehabilitation for substance abuse. Substitute time in a rehab facility for time in a juvenile facility.”
“I don’t know if I can make that happen, Counselor.”
“Well, that’s a prerequisite for her cooperation. Also, if she agrees to turn state’s witness, I want all the charges against her dropped. As I said, she’ll undergo immediate rehabilitation for substance abuse and then afterward, her church will impose on her five hundred hours of community service.”
Wynona said, “I was thinking probation plus two thousand hours of community service might cut it.”
“No probation. I don’t want her having any record. All charges must be dropped.”
Wynona said, “I don’t know if I can do that. The charges are serious.”
“How about five thousand hours of community service. Mandated by the church.”
“I can’t answer for the D.A. Plus, the court must have proof that she’s actually fulfilling her community obligations.”
“How long is five thousand hours in days?” Marie asked.
“It’s about three to four years working full-time,” Wynona told her.
“That would be fine,” Marie said. “The church is involved with several charitable programs in Africa. I will send her there immediately after rehab.”
“What about the class trip and graduation?” Darla asked.
Her mother sneered. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”
“I’d like to attend commencement. Say good-bye to everyone.”
“Are you out of your mind? You can’t step foot inside that place. You’ll be lucky if Bell and Wakefield agrees to graduate you! When this all comes out, you’ll be dirt!”
“If she’s a state’s witness,” Wynona said, “it’ll mean that the D.A. is going to want to know where she is at all times. Also, she’ll have to come back from Africa if any of the other parties involved go to trial.”
“Agreed.” Quiller looked at Wynona. “And nothing is guaranteed from our side until it’s in writing.”
“I think we’re okay with that.” Decker stifled a smile. “But you know that a guarantee in writing thing works both ways.”
Chapter Thirty-six
This is what Dylan Lashay’s school locker did not contain: porno, crumpled papers, pens or pencils, broken rulers, old protractors, random scraps of paper, junk food wrappers or rotting fruit, smelly gym socks, or old T-shirts.
This is what the locker did contain: schoolbooks and notepaper, two revolvers, two semiautomatics, including an old Raven arms MP-25 commonly known as a Saturday night special, and a Taser. There were also several rocks of crystal methamphetamines, two used crack pipes, four boxes of ammo, two boxes of condoms, a roll of duct tape, fishing twine, two black ski masks, a box of latex gloves, and a box of blue trash can liners.
Marge had brought along a video camera to tape whatever they found, and how well did that work out. She videoed and narrated as Martin Punsche cut the padlock off. She videoed and narrated as Martin Punsche opened the locker door. Then she videoed and narrated as Oliver, slowly and carefully, took out the locker’s contents one piece at a time. When Scott was done, an arsenal had been neatly set out on a series of white towels. Then the two of them began the arduous process of bagging the evidence.
Marge said, “The co-eds of Yale don’t know how lucky they are.”
Martin Punsche had turned wan during the process, sweating as they pulled out one firearm after another, mumbling as often as not. “I . . . don’t know what to say.”
“No comment necessary.” Marge picked up the SNS and unloaded the chamber.
Oliver said, “This is really scary.”
The hallway had been cordoned off. Despite the best efforts of the faculty to keep the students away, there was a crowd of onlookers.
The boys’ VP adjusted his tie. “I’m just . . . astounded.”
“And when will the principal be back?” Marge asked.
“He’s in Europe.”
Oliver said, “You should notify him right away. He’ll want to know.”
“I will as soon as we’re done here,” Punsche said.
“That’s going to take a long time,” Oliver told him.
“I realize that but I have to watch the procedure . . . to make sure that nothing’s planted.” Feeling the heat of Oliver’s glare, Punsche said, “No offense.”
“None taken,” Marge said. “We want everything done correctly. We’re going to videotape every single piece as it goes into an evidence bag. And Detective Oliver is correct when he said that it’s going to take a while.”
So much time that Marge called Decker, explaining to him what they had recovered. “I know you can’t do anything that involves you directly, but I don’t see why you can’t call up the court and get a time on Dylan Lashay’s arraignment.”
“I’ll do that.”
“Who’s the D.A. in Lashay’s case?”
“Nurit Luke.”
“She’s a shark,” Marge said. “Exactly what we’ll need. She should come down and look at all the evidence before she presents. Seeing what the kid amassed, I should be there as well.”
“I think Nurit is on her way to B and W right now. I’ll call the courts. I’m glad I can do something.”
“Did Lee talk to you about a search of your house?”
“Yes. I gave him written permission. JJ Little’s attorney is going along with him.”
“Does Gabe do drugs?”
“So far as I know, he doesn’t.”
“Tell Lee to call me after he’s done with the search.”
“I will. What else?”
“I need some detectives to come down here to video and bag everything we took out of Lashay’s locker. I can’t leave all this deadly stuff unattended while we search other lockers, and if we have to bag and label the stuff ourselves, we’ll be here forever.”
“Hold on. Let me look around and see who’s available.” He came back on the line a moment later. “I’m sending Whittiger, Katzenbach, and Marin from Burglary.”
“Thanks. That would be perfect.”
Twenty minutes later, the three Burglary detectives showed up, allowing Oliver and Marge to concentrate on the two lockers belonging to Cameron Cole and Kyle Kerkin.
“Let’s do Kyle first,” Marge said.
Oliver did the videotaping this time. Once the locker was open, Marge looked around before she touched anything. There was a slightly off odor emanating from the space. No weapons upon first glance. There were several bags of weed judging by
the look and smell. By and large, the contents were school related or junk food related.
“Okay, here we go.”
Oliver began narrating as Marge pulled out the material inside. There were books, school papers, and a lot of trash and garbage—old school work, decayed food, and a wrinkled shirt that covered a dozen gay porn magazines. It took them another hour plus to finish off Kyle’s locker. Again, everything was neatly laid out on towels, just waiting for the Burglary trio to finish up with Lashay and move on to the next array. At least the contents of Kyle’s locker didn’t contain anything lethal.
Marge’s cell buzzed. “Dunn.”
Decker said, “Lashay’s arraignment is around six in the evening. But that’s an estimate. It might be later.”
She looked at her watch. It was already three-thirty. “Thanks.”
“I’ll keep calling. I’ll let you know if there’s a change in the docket.”
“Did Lee Wang and Little’s attorney go through Gabe’s room yet?”
“Rina just called me. They’re finishing up. The kid made it easy because he’s real neat. The hardest part was going through all the junk that my sons left behind.”
“Anything damaging?”
“No. But they took Gabe’s computer.”
“Par for the course. We’ve just gone through Kyle Kerkin’s locker. Drugs and gay porn but no weapons. We’re on to Cameron Cole. I know Lee came back to the station house and brought the search warrants for the houses. Who’s on what?”
“Brubeck is on Lashay, Wanda is doing Cameron Cole, and Messing is doing Kyle Kerkin. Holbein and Asaroff are being detained at Juvenile Hall. Both of their attorneys are willing to deal so we’re just waiting on the D.A. to sign off. By the way, Little’s attorney found out that Gabriel was shot about an hour ago. He’s demanding to know who shot him. I think he’s figured out that Dylan was the only one with gun residue on his hands. He just wants to hear it from us.”
Marge said, “Once Wanda recovers the bullet, we’ll know for certain that it’s the .22, and Dylan will be toast. But that’s not what I’m telling Kerkin’s lawyer, because there’s always an off chance that Kerkin’s Luger or Glock fired accidentally. The kid was packing two firearms.”
“No wonder Kerkin wants to deal.”
“He deserves time,” Marge said.
“Yes he does, and he’ll get it. We’ve got a lot against Kerkin. His attorney will be grateful for any plea we give him.”
“What are you thinking about?”
“We could go with anything from assault and kidnapping to illegal possession of firearms in exchange for testimony and limited jail time. Dylan’s a bigger fish. If the bullet is a .22 and you combine it with the residue on Dylan’s hand, we’ve got attempted murder on Dylan. If you add that to what you and Oliver found in his locker, you can stick a fork in him. He’s done.”
“That’s very good.”
“One thing in Kyle Kerkin’s favor is the info on Gregory Hesse’s suicide. Any luck in finding the camcorder?”
“Not yet.”
“It’d be nice if Kyle wasn’t lying.”
“A kid in possession of two illegal firearms might have a veracity problem,” Marge said. “Wasn’t he the one who held the gun to Gabe’s head?”
“Yes, and that is serious. We just have to see how much Kyle can give us and what Chris Donatti can live with.”
Marge said, “He’s not going to be satisfied with anything less than the death penalty.”
Decker didn’t answer her. Chris had his own way of dealing with things. Right now the safest place for Kyle Kerkin and Dylan Lashay was jail. He said, “If there are any changes in the arraignment times, I’ll let you know.”
“Thanks. We’re going through Cameron’s locker right now. I’ll let you know what we come up with.”
“Very good. Anything else you need from me, Sergeant?”
Marge said, “I really, really like all this power and deference you’re giving me.”
“I’m an old man. I’ll retire one day.”
“When you’re gone, old man, I’m gone with you.”
The wait, from being wheeled into the OR to returning to the hospital room after being in recovery, was three and a half hours. Gabe was groggy when they transferred him into the bed and immediately fell back asleep. The first time he stirred was at six in the evening. His face distorted in pain when he moved, and Rina rang for the nurse.
“Let’s see if we can make you more comfortable,” she told him.
He tried to focus on Rina’s face. Everything was fuzzy. His insides alternated between electric shocks and dull throbs. He whispered, “Rina?”
“Yes, it’s me.”
“Can I go home?”
“I think they’re planning to keep you here overnight.”
“That sucks.” It was too much energy to look around. He closed his eyes. “I hate my life!”
“I’m sorry, Gabriel.” Rina took his hand, and he didn’t resist. “I promise you things will get better.”
A few minutes later, a fortysomething black nurse came in, reading Gabe’s hospital folder. “Okay, young man, let’s see what we can do for you.”
“You can shoot me.”
The nurse ignored him and injected a small bottle into his IV. “You should start feeling better soon.”
Gabe didn’t answer. It took too much energy to talk.
Rina sat with him as he dozed in and out of consciousness. Ten minutes later, Wynona Pratt walked into the hospital room. “Everything okay?”
“The surgery went very well,” Rina said.
“I heard they did it with fiber optics or . . .”
“The surgeon used the path of the bullet to extract it.”
Wynona held up an evidence bag. “Got it.”
Gabe opened his eyes and said, “What caliber?”
“Pardon?” Wynona asked him.
“The bullet?”
“It was a .22.”
“Dylan’s gun,” he mumbled. “Tell the Loo.”
“I will,” Wynona said. “You just concentrate on getting better.”
“Anything is up from this vantage point,” Gabe said.
Rina smiled. “You’ve got a wicked sense of humor, my son.”
Gabe couldn’t even muster a smile. He started to drift off and was awakened again—this time by a male voice. He opened his eyes. Still couldn’t make out the facial features, but the guy was too short to be his dad. He didn’t know if he felt physically better, but he felt a lot happier. “Nick?” he mumbled. “Is that you?”
“Yes, it is.” The ponytailed piano teacher was in his fifties. He came over to Gabe’s bedside. “How are you doing?”
The question seemed to stump him. “I dunno.” A pause. “I feel kinda . . . high.”
“High is okay. You just get better,” Nick told him. “This morning’s phone call took ten years off my life.”
“Both of us,” Rina said. “It was . . . shocking.”
Gabe reached for his glasses, but winced in pain. Rina put his glasses on for him.
The boy grinned at his teacher. “Nick, Nick, Nick.” He giggled. “I fucked up big time, didn’t I?”
Nick said, “You are floating, my boy.”
“I think so, my man, I think so.”
“Demerol,” Rina said.
“I’m sorry I fucked up.” Gabe let out another giggle. “Jeff must be real pissed!”
“Jeff, like me, is concerned about your welfare, Gabriel.”
“I think we’re okay, then.” Gabe held up his hands and wiggled his fingers. “See. No collateral damage.”
Nick kissed the boy’s forehead. “Just get better.”
“Aw . . .” he said. “You care.”
Nick smiled at him. “I do care. I may be a stern taskmaster, but I do have a heart.”
“What a guy!” He gave a goofy grin. “Rina is kicking me out of the house. Can I live with you?”
“That is neither accurate nor
fair.” She kissed his hand again. “No, you cannot live with Nick. We’ve already made arrangements with your dad.”
Nick said, “Anything you need, Gabriel?”
He started to say something, but his eyes stopped his mouth. Yasmine had walked through the door with her mother. She was still wearing her uniform from this morning. Her mother was wearing leggings under a shiny tunic and had on heels. Mom looked pissed off. He grinned at Yasmine. “Hi.”
“Hi.” There were tears in her eyes. “How do you feel?”
He let out a giggle. “It’s tolerable as long as I don’t move.” A deep blush rose in her cheeks. Uh-oh, he thought. Shouldna said that. But he couldn’t censor his mouth. “Isn’t she beautiful!” he said to no one in particular. “Isn’t she sexy!”
Nick extended his hand to Yasmine’s mother. “I’m Nicholas Mark, Gabriel’s piano teacher.”
The smile was tight. “Sohala Nourmand.” To Rina: a courteous hello.
Yasmine’s voice was small. “This is my mother, Gabe. You met her once before.”
“Hi, Mother.” Gabe gave her a lopsided grin. “You’ve got a beautiful daughter!”
Sohala said, “Thank you very much for helping her. I will never forget your bravery and kindness.”
Gabe continued to stare at Yasmine. “She is so gorgeous! So sexy!” He looked at Sohala. “I just love her!”
Sohala said, “I hope you get better very soon.”
Gabe’s eyes returned to Yasmine. “I love you.” A smile. “I totally . . . love you.” But instead of being happy, Yasmine started to cry. Gabe felt his own eyes watering up. “Ah . . . don’t cry, cuckoo bird. Everything is going to be terrific!”
Sohala said, “Please feel better, Gabriel.” She held her daughter’s hand very tightly. “I am so sorry for your pain. You know it has been a very long day. We must go now.”
“So soon?” Gabe’s voice fell.
“Another minute, Mommy,” Yasmine pled. “Please!”
“I’m sorry, but my family is waiting and we have much to explain,” Sohala said. “We come back another time.”
But Gabe knew there wouldn’t be another time.
“Mommy, please!” Yasmine begged.
But Sohala was resolute. She continued to grip her daughter’s hand. “Say good-bye, Yasmine, now!”
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