Over Her Head

by Shelley Bates

  And that’s where he lost this morning’s bagel and peanut butter, one orange, and four cups of coffee.

  The unmarked SUV belonging to the coroner’s investigator was already parked on the bridge when Nick pulled up twenty minutes later. He waved to the guy pulling traffic duty on the afternoon shift. The bridge was down to one lane around the cones and crime-scene tape, and the deputy guided people past.

  Nick made a turn in the parking lot of the Stop-N-Go and pulled up behind the gray 4x4. There was no sign of Forrest, but a security line was tied to a strut, and it was taut where it ran over the rail.

  He leaned over. “Hey down there! It’s Nick.”

  Ten or twelve feet below, Forrest looked up and sketched a salute with the small knife in his right hand. “Hey.” Tethered to the rail for safety, he balanced on one of the joists that supported the roadbed, where creosote and decades-old bird droppings had permeated the wood.

  “Lisa told me I’d find you out here. Got anything?”

  “You mean besides a bad need for a hot cup of coffee? Man, I am claiming hazard pay for this. The wind comes howling under here like you wouldn’t believe. I think my butt is frostbit.”

  “Quit complaining. It’s good for you to get off the phone and out into the field once in a while.”

  “Been lucky, I guess. Not a lot of homicide going on in this county. Not like Pittsburgh. I couldn’t get away from there fast enough.”

  Nick glanced down at the heavy beam that seemed to be the focus of Forrest’s equipment. “Homicide?”

  The investigator nodded. “Not conclusive until I talk to Lisa, but definitely suspicious.” Carefully, he loosened a wide sliver of wood from the end of the beam, and slipped it into an evidence bag. Then he stretched up to hand it to Nick.

  The bit of wood was stained with a dark, sticky substance, and even without a magnifier, Nick could see hair embedded in it.

  Forrest handed up his heavy-duty digital Canon EOS, then hefted himself up to road level and over the rail before he unsnapped the security line. “Over there.” He nodded at the plank decking a few feet away that formed the walkway for pedestrians next to the asphalt, directly over the beam. “Scuff marks and blood. If she’d been a jumper, there would have been footprints on the rail, nice and clean. But it looks like a scuffle took place.”

  Nick glanced at the Stop-N-Go at the far end of the bridge. “I’ll talk to the staff at the store and see if anyone saw anything.” He leaned over and looked down, past the beam to the water swirling thirty feet below. “So she gets pushed or someone lands a blow. Hits her head on the beam hard enough to fracture her skull—and lights out. Lands in the water unconscious and drowns.”

  Forrest nodded. He finished coiling his line and stripped off his gloves. “Sounds about right, from what we can see here. What does Lisa say?”

  “Cause of death is drowning, precipitated by blunt trauma to the head.”

  “Question is, who pushed her, and did they mean to do it?”

  “That is the question, all right.”

  Shoving his equipment into the back of the SUV, Forrest spoke over his shoulder. “That’s why I didn’t go into police work, see. It’s my job to find out how. It’s your job to find out why and who.”

  And he would. The memory of that still face, the long-lashed eyes closed in permanent sleep, was probably going to haunt Nick long after he found the person responsible for leaving her that way.

  The elementary school’s classes ended at 2:45, which meant that if Tim didn’t have band practice, or if he and his buddies didn’t find some piece of architecture to try their skate-boards on, he hit the front door at home by 3:15. Today, Laurie’s hug had a little more force behind it than usual, and she took a moment to thank God that her baby was home, alive and well.

  “Mom, you’re squishing me.”

  She released him and he tossed his backpack onto the floor by the door on his way into the kitchen.

  “I’m just glad to see you, that’s all.”

  To the ten-year-old mind this was probably just motherly weirdness, since, after all, they saw each other day in and day out. But Laurie felt better for having said it. In fact, she was going to start saying it a lot more after this.

  At four o’clock she glanced at the clock on the microwave. Anna would be home any second, and she needed to make a decision. Should she ask her if any of her classmates were missing? Should they discuss the girl’s death in a family enclave? Because of course she had to tell her kids before anyone asked them about it in the hallway at school.

  Which, she supposed, was pretty much a decision. She’d bring it up when they’d eaten supper, before they scattered. A quiet word with Colin beforehand would ensure he didn’t spill the beans before she was ready.

  Her next glance at the clock in the living room said it was 4:15. Anna was probably walking home with a gaggle of her friends and dawdling in front of some boy’s house. Or maybe they’d stopped in at the drugstore to try out makeup.

  When the alarm clock in her bedroom, where she was folding laundry, said ten to five, Laurie could stand it no longer. She dropped Colin’s underwear back in the basket and grabbed her cell phone.

  Where r u?

  Love, mom

  A minute later, her cell jingled.

  Kates. Home soon.

  Soon? “Soon” had once meant two minutes, but since Anna had hit fourteen, it sometimes meant two hours.

  Dinner 5:15. Home now.

  No reply. Laurie went downstairs to put more tomatoes in the marinara sauce, and by the time she got them stirred in, Anna was pushing open the front door.

  “Hi, sweetie.”

  “Mom, can I ask you a favor?” Anna dropped her coat on the floor next to the hall tree instead of hanging it up like a civilized person, went straight to the fridge, and pulled out a packet of string cheese.

  “Sure. What?”

  “Can you not ding me when I’m late like I’m a little kid? It’s totally embarrassing to get a call in front of your friends and have it be your mom.”

  Laurie bit back her first response and kept her tone calm. “I’ll be happy to, when you text me and let me know you’ll be late. Until then, you get dinged.”

  Anna rolled her eyes and headed out of the kitchen.

  “What were you doing?” Laurie called after her. “Hanging with the kids?”

  But Anna was already halfway up the stairs and pretended not to hear her.

  Laurie sighed and stirred the sauce more out of habit than because it needed it. She’d read more books on parenting adolescents than she could count. She was patient, supportive, and positive about self-image. She gave advice on the rare occasions when Anna asked for it, and on a lot of occasions when she didn’t, but she always tried to couch it in noncritical terms.

  Anna did not seem to appreciate this maternal care one bit. What happened to teenagers? Did they drink some evil potion that turned them into careless, scatterbrained, inconsiderate half humans?

  No, she took that back. Anna had beautiful moments, when her big blue eyes would fill with tears over the poverty suffered by the kids in the Bolivian mission schools the church supported, or she’d go out of her way to help a friend struggling with a school project. But she had her share of ugly moments, too, and sometimes it was all Laurie could do not to turn her over her knee—if she could have. Anna was nearly as tall as she was. Thank goodness she’d taken after Colin, for which they could both be grateful.

  When Colin came home from work a few minutes later, she put the water for the spaghetti on to boil and followed him up to their room.

  He hung up his trousers and his tie, put his shirt in the hamper, and pulled on his jeans and a comfortable T-shirt. Then he turned to her and held out his arms. “Hey.”

  She leaned against his chest, grateful for his strength and the tight circle of his arms. “Hey.”

  “You all right?”

  “I am now. Bible study helped a lot.”

  “
I’m glad to hear it.”

  “We need to talk to the kids about it, though. Once we’ve finished eating.”

  He held her a little away from him so he could look into her eyes. “Is that necessary, Lor?”

  She nodded. “It’s going to be all over the school tomorrow, and my name will be in the papers. Think how you’d feel if your mom had been involved and she didn’t bother to tell you.”

  “Their mom isn’t ‘involved.’”

  “Colin, you know I am. I discovered the poor little thing.”

  “But you make it sound as though you have some part to play in this. You don’t. Yes, you found the girl. But that’s as far as it goes.”

  She pulled away and bent to pick up the stack of his underwear where she’d dropped it earlier. “I know.”

  “I’m just saying, keep to the facts.”

  “Like I wouldn’t? What, do you think I’m going to lie? To make up things to make me sound more important than I am?”

  She didn’t need to do that kind of thing. She never tried to hog the spotlight or take over in situations. It just seemed to happen, as though people wanted her to be out in front.

  “Of course not, sweetheart.” He pulled her to him and she tried to relax against his chest once more. A fight was the last thing she wanted. “Look, say what you need to say to prepare them. Then if it upsets them, I’ll step in.”

  “Okay.”

  So, even though she was dying to jump right in and ask the kids if they’d heard anything as soon as they’d said grace, she held it in until everyone had finished eating.

  “Hang on a minute, sweetie.” Laurie smiled at Anna as she slid sideways out of her chair. “I want to talk to you and Tim.”

  “I didn’t do anything,” her youngest said immediately from across the table.

  Thank you, Lord, for my baby’s innocence. “What’s that, a preemptive strike?”

  “I’m just saying,” he said, and she heard the echo of Colin’s voice.

  “This has nothing to do with either of you. But something happened this morning that we need to talk about.”

  Tim and Anna slid back into their chairs. Tim’s eyes lit up now that his innocence had been established. Anna was interested, too, but in front of her little brother it was no doubt cooler to look as though she didn’t care.

  As she’d promised Colin, Laurie stuck to bare facts as she outlined what had happened that morning. “So,” she concluded, “I wanted you guys to know, in case it’s in the papers tomorrow and the other kids come to you asking questions. Now you know as much as I do.”

  “I bet I can find out who it was,” Tim said with the macabre interest of childhood.

  “Right, Sherlock,” Laurie said. “You just let Nick and the other cops do their jobs. They have to notify next of kin first.”

  “What’s that?”

  “The girl’s family. Her kin,” Colin said.

  Anna hadn’t moved during the whole recital. In fact, her face had gone white and she looked as though she was about to cry.

  Laurie reached across the table for her hand. “Sweetie, are you okay? I know this is shocking. We’ll all pray for the family tonight, even though we don’t know who they are yet. It’s probably not anybody you know.”

  Her daughter turned a horrified, teary glare on her. “Like that’s supposed to make me feel better?” She pushed her chair back and ran out of the dining room. Her sneakered feet pounded on the stairs, and a few seconds later a door slammed like a sonic boom at the far end of the house.

  Laurie traded glances with Colin. “Better let me talk to her,” he said. “In a little while.”

  But when he slipped into their room later that night, it didn’t look as though talking had done much good. Laurie took off her reading glasses and put them on top of the book she’d picked up to prevent herself from putting her ear to her daughter’s door.

  “Any luck?”

  He shrugged and shook his head. “It’s clear she’s upset about it, but she won’t say a word. She’s such a softhearted kid.”

  “Maybe I should try. My best friend died of a staph infection when we were kids.”

  “That’s different. This could be foul play. Has anyone thought of that?”

  “In Glendale?” Laurie shook her head. “It’s more likely the poor kid was struggling with depression and decided to end it all. Or maybe she was goofing around and there was an accident.”

  “Nobody is going to jump off the bridge, even on a dare, at this time of year.” Colin folded his jeans and T-shirt and sat on the edge of the bed.

  “She didn’t have to jump. She could have been bird-watching or daydreaming. She could have slipped on those wet boards and hit her head. Anything is possible.”

  Her husband gazed at the rug. “It’s pointless to speculate. Whatever we’re supposed to know will come out in the papers.” He glanced up. “You going to pray?”

  Together, they knelt. Laurie often thought that this time as a couple, alone at God’s feet, was the most beautiful few minutes of her day. But tonight there was someone else in the room with them. Someone who didn’t even have a face. Yet. Again, she prayed for the girl’s mother. Prayer usually calmed her, set her at peace for the night. But in the dark, Laurie lay and wondered about the bereaved family. Who were they? What were they thinking right now? Had they even been notified yet?

  And most important of all, were they part of a social fabric the way she was? Laurie tried to imagine getting through such a horrible time without support. It would be like trying to cross a desert without water or shelter or transportation. The simple fact was, her life was knit so tightly with those in her family, in Bible study group, in the leadership of Glendale Bible Fellowship that she couldn’t even imagine living a different way. Her friendships had started in kindergarten—and her kids’ friendships started that way, too. She was so used to joining her mom and aunts in organizing benefits and events for church and school that she’d practically learned leadership by osmosis. And by the time she’d earned her degree at Murdo, she’d begun to realize that Colin was more than the lanky kid who had played on the high-school basketball team and sang tenor in the row behind her family’s at church. Marrying him and working to put him through his MBA before the babies came had just seemed a natural extension of a life she’d established without really thinking much about it.

  For the most part, she loved her life. Unfortunately, somewhere out there was a poor woman who would never be able to say that again.

  In the morning, Laurie looked at Anna closely when she came downstairs. She touched her daughter’s forehead under the curve of her bangs.

  “Did you sleep okay, honey?” Anna’s skin was cool, but her eyes were shadowed, as though she hadn’t slept at all.

  Anna nodded, and Laurie frowned. Anna was a sound sleeper—so sound that if she didn’t have to get up to go to school, she’d be out cold from ten at night until ten in the morning.

  “You’ve got dark circles under your eyes.”

  “Thanks, Mom, I needed that.” She refused to meet Laurie’s gaze.

  “If something is bothering you, it might help to talk about it. Maybe tonight, after supper.”

  “Nothing’s bothering me. Have you seen my backpack?”

  “It’s by the door, where it always is, and your lunch money is in it. Do you have all your books?”

  “I think so.”

  “You’d better know so. Double-check. Sweetie, I lost someone when I was your age. Maybe it’s time I shared that with you. We’ll talk about it tonight, okay?”

  “Okay, Mom.” She pounded back up the stairs, returning with her math notebook and stuffing it into the backpack.

  Laurie herded both kids out to the van, which was warming up in the driveway, and dropped the subject while she drove them to school. But as she watched Anna join a group of girls and make her way across the lawn to the main doors, she nibbled her lower lip.

  Laurie needed to find a way to break through
this new reluctance to talk so she could give her daughter some comfort. Maybe it wasn’t the discovery of the girl’s body at all. Maybe something else was going on that she felt she needed to keep from her mother, like a crush or a clique being mean to her. If Laurie shared her own loss with Anna, it might break down her reticence and help them find some common ground.

  Her decision made, Laurie drove up the hill to the university and tried to concentrate on work. On her break from collating handouts on the significance of metaphor for one of the creative-writing profs, she cruised the staff room in search of the morning paper. They didn’t get it at the house because both the English department and Susquanny Home Supply took it, and there was no point in putting out a few dollars a month when you could read it at work for free.

  GIRL’S BODY FOUND

  The story had made the front page, with an enlargement of a school picture showing a teenage girl with a lot of eye makeup and a heartbreaking sincerity in her smile. Laurie gathered up the paper and took it back to her cubicle to read in private.

  A morning jog is part of local community leader Laurie Hale’s routine, but yesterday’s discovery was anything but routine. Hale discovered the body of Lincoln High freshman Miranda Peizer, 14—

  Peizer? As in Tanya Peizer? Laurie caught her breath as her gaze raced down the column.

  —in the Susquanny River about half a mile downstream from the bridge. According to the Glendale sheriff’s office, the young woman’s body had sustained multiple contusions, but it is unclear yet whether they were the result of her trip downriver or injuries sustained before she entered the water. When asked for comment, Deputy Sheriff Nicholas Tremore stated, “The family has been notified. We’re investigating all avenues at this point and not ruling anything out.” If Miranda Peizer’s death turns out to be the result of foul play, it will be the first homicide in Glendale since the murder of attorney Reginald Holzing in 1996.

  Laurie sat back, her breath bottling up in her chest.

  Miranda Peizer. Oh, no. Surely not.