by Trish Reeb
"He in some kind of trouble?"
Holmes’ words came from the cusp of her consciousness as her mind muddled through the equation.
"H-m, no." Alex backed away. "Thanks."
"Any time."
Images of Mc-G flashed through her head: coming out of Mary Winter’s office the first time she noticed him, chasing after her to return her purse, seeing him again the same day outside of Winter’s door, and then arriving in the nick of time to stop the attack on Arjay. What did she know about him? He seemed to appear out of nowhere when she needed him. He kept love potion number nine in his refrigerator.
Had he been watching her? Following her? And if so, why? Could he be spying now? She scanned the hall, searching for the tell-tale red hair. No sign of him. Short like Cole’s friend, he could easily make himself invisible in a crowd this size.
What did she know about Redd Dog? He’s dangerous. Arjay didn’t trust him. Since Mc-G was Redd Dog, he could be part of the puzzle—especially if the text messenger had been referring to him as rd. All speculation. She had no proof of any of it. Was she jumping to conclusions? Was someone playing games, feeding her false information to send her off on a wild goose chase? More questions with no answers. She needed to talk to Cole.
Alex stared down the hall where she’d last seen him and Martindale. A crowd had formed, blocking her view. Quickly, she journeyed in that direction. A few kids in the center chanted, "Crucify him! Crucify him!" their fists socking the air above their heads.
Omar Holmes sliced his way through the crowd, his radio to his mouth.
Other students joined in, "Crucify him! Crucify him!" Doors to classrooms burst open and more teens spilled into the hallway. In a matter of seconds, Alex couldn’t budge —wedged in by kids pushing, jostling, bumping her from every direction.
"Stop!" a girl shouted, slamming into Alex. The teen turned around and shoved the girl behind her. They threw threats each other’s way.
"Calm down," Alex yelled to the closest girl. "She can’t help it any more than you can."
"I don’t want to bump you," she shouted back.
"It’s okay. I know you’re not doing it on purpose." She smiled at the girl as others jostled them from every angle.
"You’re Ms. T, ain’t you?" the teen asked, thrust into Alex again.
"Yes, what’s your name?" Alex tried to stand her ground while the upper half of her body underwent a battering.
"LaToya."
"Nice to meet you, LaToya."
She rammed Alex again. "Sorry."
Unable to see beyond the circle of students around her, she noted that the chanting had escalated.
A bull horn blared from afar, "Students, go back to your classes immediately." Help had arrived. The grip of the crowd loosened slightly. Alex could maneuver her arms and legs a little.
A few minutes later, a security guard pushed by and grabbed a teen a few feet away, wrestling him to the ground. The kid bucked. A second guard jumped in and between the two, they subdued him. When they yanked the boy to his feet, blood ran from his nose down his dirt-streaked T-shirt ripped at the neck. His brown face crimson, chest heaving, his eyes threw daggers everywhere. With the leaders down for the count, the chanting grew fainter until it ceased. The students began heading back to class.
Alex heaved a sigh of relief. Strange, what they chanted, biblical. She stopped by the main office to deposit the notices in the mailboxes before backtracking to her office. Wanting to tell Cole Redd Dog and McGerald River were the same person, she pushed nine on her cell phone. Her call went directly to voicemail and she left a message.
Who was McGerald River/Redd Dog? Alex hoped her computer could provide the answer. She keyed in Mc-G’s name to check his transcript. His middle-of-the-road grades at Lincoln did not include grades from his previous school or schools. Of course his counselor turned out to be Chandra Garrett. She would never volunteer the name of the school from which Mc-G had transferred. She’d eat dog shit first. She had one other source, the main office. After waiting a full five minutes for the secretary to finish searching the files, she received the information that McGerald River’s registration papers had been misplaced. The woman advised her to check with his counselor. Back to square one.
According to Mc-G’s attendance record, he spent minimal time in class. Yet he'd acquired C’s and D’s instead of the failing grades he deserved. Had Mary Winter negotiated grade changes? Or had she tutored him? Although unusual for an assistant principal, it would explain Mc-G’s visits to her office.
CHAPTER 44
Eyes wild, clothes disheveled, face etched in desperation, Mercedes burst into Alex’s office, closing the door behind her.
Alex jumped up. "Mercedes! Where’ve you been? What’s happened?" She guided her to a chair and sat next to her. The teen burst into tears and Alex hugged her close. Mercedes clung to her, sobbing. Alex let the tears run out before gently breaking their embrace. "Why don’t you tell me what’s going on?"
The girl shuttered her eyes. "I can’t."
"What can I do?"
"May I stay here for a while?" She trembled.
"As long as you want." Alex reached for the phone. "I need to call your grandmother."
Her eyes widened. "No, please. Don’t tell her where I am."
"Why"
"Because I can’t go home. It’s not safe," she said, her face stricken. "My sister . . . I'm afraid for her and my grandmother."
"We should contact the police." Alex started to rise. "I’ll call Detective Grant."
The girl shook her head vigorously.
Staying seated, she squeezed Mercedes’ hand. "He can protect you."
The girl clenched her fists. "I can’t do it! Don’t ask me please."
"Okay, okay." Plenty of time for that and the phone call home once Mercedes calmed down.
A double knock.
They jumped, their heads snapping to the door.
"Who is it?" Alex called.
"Morgan. You wanted to see me?" came from the other side, the voice somewhat muffled.
Mercedes’ saucer eyes darted everywhere. She shook her head, waving her arms wildly.
Alex’s heart quickened. She slipped behind the desk and pulled the chair back, motioning for Mercedes to crawl underneath.
With the girl hidden, she walked briskly to the door and opened it. "What can I do for you?"
Morgan’s gaze floated around the room. "Holmes said you wanted to see me. Something about RD?"
Uh-oh. She hadn’t considered Holmes would tell Morgan. Obviously, the sight of her made Mercedes quake. What could she say without giving herself away? Think, Alex, think. Seconds paraded by. Her mind clicked. "I remember now why I wanted to see you. I came across the flier from First Stop. You know the shelter for runaways? The number's disconnected."
Morgan blinked, her head jerking slightly. "Place closed its doors two years ago. Funding ran out."
"Figured, but I wanted to make sure it hadn’t relocated or changed its name," she said. "Thanks for coming by."
"Wait a minute. We were talking about RD."
"No, you mentioned RD. Have a nice day." Alex closed the door in Morgan’s surprised face. She quietly flipped the lock.
Mercedes scrambled out from under the desk.
"Why didn’t you want Ms. Morgan to see you?" Alex whispered, unsure whether the woman stood on the other side of the door eavesdropping.
The girl’s eyes flitted around the room.
"Don’t go. Stay. We’ll work it out."
Mercedes crept over to the door and listened.
"Please." Alex grabbed the girl’s arm, but she jerked away.
Mercedes opened the door a crack and peered out before dashing through the reception area and out of the counseling suite.
Alex didn’t follow this time. She retrieved her cell phone and hit nine, praying Cole would answer.
CHAPTER 45
Cole sat across the table from Martindale in an interrogatio
n room at police headquarters.
"Got it," he said, closing his phone. He leaned back and stared at Martindale. "I’ll be damned. FBI."
Martindale shrugged. "We’re on the same side," he said, his molars working on the piece of gum in the back of his mouth.
"But not on the same team."
"Nature of the beast." Martindale leaned forward, placing bulked up arms on the table.
Cole studied the mass of swirls on Martindale’s forearm. Did some significance lie inside the tattoo, hidden like the man’s identity beneath the façade of substitute teacher? FBI! Why hadn’t he seen it? He’d always been able to pick an agent out in a crowd. His dreadlocks and casual attitude hadn’t fit the mold. Martindale blended into his environment like a reptile. The dude definitely had skills. Cole couldn’t afford to alienate him. Not only did Martindale fall higher on the food chain, ultimately he would rule where on the pyramid Cole landed, if at all.
"You gonna vote me off the island?" Cole asked.
Martindale afforded him a long stare. "Haven’t cast my ballot yet."
Good, still a chance he might be a team player. He could only find out by serving the ball. "Is your assignment related?
A vein throbbed at Martindale’s temple. "Possibly."
"Want to tell me why you’re at Lincoln?"
Martindale stared at him. "Key word is want. I don’t have to tell you anything."
Cole stared back at him, his eyes never wavering, allowing the ball to stay on the other side of the court.
Martindale extracted the wad of gum from his mouth and fired it into a waste can a few feet from him. It landed with a ping. "Nasty habit," he said. "But it beats smoking." He tilted his head. "Before we get into that, what I want to know is how you leaped to here?"
Just like a Fed—returned the ball to his side of the net without answering the question. Yesterday Martindale had been a person of interest, last night a viable suspect, and this morning a collar. He had opportunity, motive, and no alibi. If not for Alex, Cole might've believed he'd arrested the right guy. With too many loose ends, it didn’t tie into a nice neat package of love affair gone awry. His doubts had been confirmed when he’d questioned him. A quick phone call to his supervisor verified not only that he was FBI but also substantiated the alibi he’d previously been unable to use.
Martindale deserved to know why he’d been brought in for questioning. Cole told him the reason for the search through the dumpsters. "Before we found Alex’s note, we stumbled on pages from Taryn’s missing journal."
The agent’s expression didn’t change. His poker face revealed none of the emotions that had to be running deep. "My name came up."
Cole nodded. "Not only that, she asked you to meet her the night she died."
Martindale nodded. "I couldn’t make it. Had that meeting with my boss." His expression darkened. "She died on my watch, man."
"I know. It’s a bitch," Cole said. "But it’s not your fault."
Martindale’s expression begged to differ. "Let’s see what you got."
Cole slid several sheets of paper from a folder sitting on the table in front of him. Each sheet contained a photo copy of four pages, two on each side. "We believe these have been floating around the school," he said. "There’re probably others."
Martindale read aloud without expression, his face impassive. "I’ve prided myself on making sound decisions, doing the right thing. Until Vince came along." He looked up, his eyes staring past Cole. Seconds later he continued reading. "Now it’s as if my head’s screwed on backward. I can’t think straight. He’s driving me crazy. I’m supposed to love Jordan but moon over Vince. I can’t eat, sleep, or go more than a millisecond without thinking about him. Jordan possesses all the qualities I want in a man. Vince is too smooth, too private, and too hot." Martindale sucked in air and blew it out before continuing. "When a woman makes decisions based on carnal fantasies, she’s in trouble. I need to squash this thing NOW. If I don’t, I’m no better than that two-timing DeMarcus."
Martindale raised his eyes filled with the dark emotions his voice and facial expression lacked. He laid an open hand heavily on the papers, his fingers spread wide. Slowly, he crumpled the pages into a ball. "Son of a bitch," he mumbled. His jaw clenched. He threw Cole a skeptical look. "So what did you bring me in on? This isn’t enough."
"I know of murder cases built on less," Cole said. He leaned back and folded his arms. "However, you’re right. Based on what I know, which is a whole lot a mess that doesn't compute, I figured it for a setup."
Martindale leaned forward. "So my arrest was subterfuge."
Cole nodded.
"What kinda mess?"
Cole tapped a pencil on the table as he considered how much to tell him. He didn’t want to provide anything until he knew for sure Martindale would reciprocate. "Before I go into it, how about answering my original question? Why Lincoln High?"
Martindale knife bladed his lips. Seconds of silence passed. "Body of a girl surfaced in Toledo. Reports of missing teens in the Big D more than doubled in the past year and Lincoln has the highest head count."
Cole nodded, remembering the trilogy he’d heard the past couple days—the mother in the main office at Lincoln High, the parent downtown, and Darrel at the morgue. It also explained why Martindale had been keeping an eye on the teens. "What have you got so far?"
"Ran background checks on the staff. One person raised a red flag. Mary Winter." He paused. "She entered the Witness Security Program at sixteen."
"So? You're talking forty some years ago."
"Damaged goods. Folks sold her to a rich guy, hoping to find a way out of their dirt poor circumstances. Winter blew the whistle on the cretins who passed her around like a party favor."
Mary Winter. Cole leaned forward. "Take it you’ve been watching her. Got anything?"
"Not much, other than McGerald River going in and out of her office as if it had revolving doors."
Interesting. River planted the seed of suspicion on Martindale without knowing his true identity. Had the kid intentionally implicated him? No question he could've witnessed a tryst between Martindale and Taryn exactly how he’d described it. "According to Winter, she’s been working with him on his attendance. Says they meet a couple times a week," Cole said.
"Question is why. Is she trying to help the kid out or take advantage of him?" Martindale offered Cole a stick of gum. When he declined, the agent peeled off the wrapper and folded it into his mouth. "School’s a playground for anyone stalking throw-away kids." He balled the foil, aimed for the wastebasket, and tossed.
"She’s in a prime position," Cole said. Mary Winter came across as a typical grandmother figure; but, with her history, no telling what was going on behind the façade. If it was a façade. For now, the idea fell under hypothetical. "Gotta question for you." He told Martindale what River witnessed between him and Taryn. "Any truth to it?"
Martindale’s jaw clenched. "Wondered what spooked her that day." His brown eyes darkened, but he volunteered no more information.
So River had been telling the truth. "Anything else?" Cole asked.
"Yolanda Morgan. Talks a lot to the hall walkers, gets to know them."
"Could be a good thing."
"Under normal circumstances. Normal circumstances these ain’t. Kids are disappearing as fast as rocks at a crack house, tagged as runaways."
"Could be she tried to prevent that from happening."
"Possibly. I’m keeping a log, dates, times, etc. Watching for a pattern."
Cole contemplated what Martindale had disclosed. Interesting, he mentioned Winter’s and Morgan’s names. Maybe their relationship went far beyond a lurid affair after all. Something connected to Taryn Richards’ murder? Martindale’s observations didn’t carry much weight alone. Put them together and the picture changed to one of substance.
Cole sat back. "That it?"
Martindale nodded. "Kids are closed mouthed. Hell, I'd expect at least one of them to tell
me about those damn journal pages. Even if anonymously. Something or someone has them spooked."
"Or a code of silence."
"Don’t get a sense of that."
"You haven’t gotten much in five weeks."
"Patience, man. Takes time to build rapport, trust, and confidantes. Can’t do my job without them." Martindale sat back. "Your turn."
"I got fragments that don’t fit."
"Let’s hear them." Martindale withdrew the PDA from his jacket pocket.
Time to play ball. Where to begin? "You know how Taryn’s journal got out there," Cole said.
Martindale shot him a skewed smile. "Not much slides by the FBI, especially when it’s on police bands."
The next piece was tricky. Officially, Jada’s death had been ruled a suicide until Darrel put a pinprick in the autopsy report. FBI involvement or not, Cole promised to keep it QT until he heard otherwise. He told Martindale about Jada’s death and Mercedes’ visit to Alex. "I asked a graphologist to analyze the handwriting from Jada’s suicide note. Should hear something by tomorrow."
"What’s the connection?"
Cole shrugged. "Not sure yet. Could be the killer made Jada’s death look like a suicide. It’s all conjecture at this point. There’s more." He relayed what he’d overheard between Mary Winter and Yolanda Morgan.
"Looks like I may be on the right track. Something’s going on between those two and I’m betting it’s more than a relationship malfunction."
They discussed the threatening note Alex received and Cole threw out the rest of what he had: the break-in at Alex’s and nuking of her cat, the laugh at the school, and the attack on Arjay. He decided to keep the trip to McGerald River’s under the radar until he knew whether or not Martindale could be trusted not to use it against him.
The phone vibrated inside the pocket of Cole’s suit coat. "Excuse me." He checked the caller ID and said, "Speak to me, girl."
CHAPTER 46
Alex hung up the phone and leaned back in her chair. She ran her hands through her short curly hair. She’d felt uneasy about talking to Cole after what happened last night. Yet, he’d been fine, acted as if nothing had changed. So what bothered her? She’d told him about Redd Dog and Mercedes. Instead of thanking her, telling her what a good mole she might've made had he not fired her, he downplayed the information. Said they had no proof rd in the note pointed to Redd Dog. Told her to sit tight, he’d look into both. In other words, bug out. Still worried about Mercedes, she sighed. She dialed Mrs. Lewis's number to give her the latest news. After telling her she'd contact her if she learned anything more, she returned her attention to work.