by Claire Adams
"Um, can I ask why?" My daycare was closed on weekends, so I knew there wasn't an issue with a child or one of my staff. So, why on earth would the police be there?
"There's been a break-in. Our guess is that it happened last night sometime. A passer-by saw that one of the windows had been smashed and that it looked like someone had forcibly entered the building. They called us and reported it, and we went to investigate, and we can confirm that the building has indeed been broken into. We need you to come here and check the situation out, and see if anything of value has been stolen. Also, uh, the intruder left a message. Our guess is it's not for you, but maybe when you see it, it'll ring a bell. It might be meant for someone who works here. You're going to have to come see it, and we'll have to ask you some questions about it. Are you able to come down here now?"
"I am, yes. I'll be there shortly."
"We'll be waiting for you, Miss Andrews."
"Thank you, Lieutenant. I'll see you soon."
We said our goodbyes, and I put my phone back in my handbag and stared at the screen with an expression of shock splayed across my face.
"What's wrong, Viv?" asked Kerry, sounding worried.
"Someone... someone broke into my daycare last night."
"What?! Why? Who would break into a daycare?"
"Whoever it is, they left some sort of message."
"A message? Saying what?"
"I don't know... but I'm about to find out. I'll call you later and let you know what happened."
Twenty minutes later, I arrived at my daycare with a strange and uncomfortable mix of emotions sloshing around inside me. I was worried, more than anything, but I there was also a twinge of fear bubbling through my veins. Two patrol cars with blue lights flashing through the darkness were positioned at the entrance to the parking lot.
I pulled up to the main gate and used my remote to open it then proceeded into the parking area. The cops had apparently climbed over the wall to get in. As soon as I parked, I got out and made my way to the playground where three cops were standing amongst the playground equipment. One was making notes in a notebook, and another was taking photographs of the place. The one writing in his notepad saw me and walked over to me.
"You must be Miss Andrews," he said.
"That's right; I'm Vivienne Andrews, owner of this daycare."
"I'm Lieutenant Todd. We spoke on the phone."
I shook hands with him. "Thank you for informing me of the situation, Lieutenant."
"No problem. Now, before I show you the damage and where the guy got in, I do need to ask you a few questions," he said, positioning his notebook to jot down my responses.
"Sure thing, fire away."
"How long have you owned this place?"
"Well, I've been at this daycare for two years, since I moved to Irvine."
"Alright, two years," he said, writing in his notebook.
"No, Lieutenant, I didn't say I've owned this place for two years. Sorry for the confusion."
"I see. So how long have you owned it then?"
"I bought it from the former owner around a year ago."
"So you were first an employee, and then you bought it and took over ownership?"
"That's correct, yes."
"And would you mind providing me with the name of the former owner?"
"That was Mrs. Dianne Satterstrom. She was retiring from the daycare business, and she knew I really loved this place and working with kids."
"Uh-huh. Is the former owner still alive?"
"Yes, Dianne definitely is. She and I meet up for coffee every few weeks. In fact, we just got together about a week ago."
"I see. Alright, and are the parents who bring their kids here generally happy? I mean, do you get along well with all of them? Any recent incidents?"
"Yes, they're all very happy with my daycare, as far as I know. I have a very good relationship with all of them. We haven't had any complaints."
"And there's nobody who has had, maybe, financial problems here? Someone who was behind on payments? Or maybe someone who, I don't know, you kicked their kid out of the daycare because of behavior problems, something like that?"
I shook my head. "No, nothing at all like that. I mean, sure, kids act up all the time – that's what they do, they're kids. I've had to call in parents a few times about their kids' behavior on occasion, but it hasn't happened too many times over the past two years. And in all the cases, the parents involved were sympathetic and non-confrontational, and we solved the issues in a rational way."
"So, nobody was left with hurt feelings, a grudge perhaps?"
"No, definitely not. Everything was resolved on good terms."
He wrote all of this down in his notebook.
"Alright, I see," he continued. "Well, then I guess I can rule out the possibility of the culprit being a parent of one of your kids here."
I nodded. "Yes, definitely. The thought that it might be one of the parents who bring their kids here never crossed my mind."
"Okay, well then it has to be related to a matter outside of the business."
"So, you think this is personal?" I asked. "Not just some random thief looking for valuables to steal?"
"Well, we don't know if anything was stolen; that's why you'll need to have a careful look around. But in my opinion, no, I don't think this break-in was done for financial gain. Come on, let me show you what we've found."
"Alright."
The officer led me over to the side of the building where one of the windows was broken out.
"This is where the guy got in. See, away from the view of the street, nice and convenient for him, no passers-by could have seen what he was up to."
"I see."
"Me and the boys had to go in through the window as well, so maybe now that you're here, you can open up the place for us? Just to make it a bit easier to get inside."
"Sure."
I got my keys out, opened the front door, and we headed in. The place didn't look like it had been broken into; it was still neat and tidy, and most things seemed to be in their places.
"So, where's this message you told me about?" I asked.
"This way," he said. "Maybe when you see it, you can make some sense of it. I have to admit I was a little surprised when you told me the name of the previous owner was Dianne."
"Uh, why?"
"Come through here, and you'll see."
We walked through to the girls' bathroom, which had a large mirror on the wall – and as soon I stepped in, my blood turned to ice and terror shot through me. Scrawled across the bathroom mirror, with a red liquid that looked alarmingly like blood, was the message: "I bet you thought I'd never find you again... But you were wrong. Very, very wrong. See you soon, Alicia."
Chapter Sixteen
Everett
We reached the hospital where Kendrick was around 20 minutes after leaving the school.
"I sure hope this kid is still awake," I said to Ben.
He nodded grimly.
"I know. If he's already gone into surgery, we'll have to wait at least 24 hours before we can talk to him."
"Well let's hope he's still conscious then. Come on, let's go."
We jogged up the steps and headed straight to the front desk to talk to the nurse who was on duty.
"Hello, gentlemen, would I be able to help you with something?"
"We're here to see Kendrick Green, a high school student who was brought in earlier with a gunshot wound."
"Kendrick Green, alright, let me just check for you..."
She typed his name into her computer and peered at the screen for a few moments, furrowing her brow with concentration.
"I'm afraid you can't see Kendrick right now. He's going to be going into surgery in an hour."
"Has he been sedated yet?"
"Not yet, no, but he's in a serious—"
"Look, this is a matter of life and death, and more lives might be at stake if we don't see him now. It'll take two minutes. I'm the
principal of his high school, my name is Everett James, and this is the deputy principal, Ben Henderson. Please, please could you just bend the rules for us. Like I said, many more kids' lives are at stake here."
She breathed in deeply.
"I uh, I don't usually break the rules, but if there are lives at stake, especially children's, then I think I can look past a few regulations here and there. He's in room 35C, third floor. If you hurry, you can get to him before they start prepping him for surgery."
"Thank you so much!" I said, my gratitude genuine and obvious.
"No problem. I hope you can find out whatever it is that you need to find out!"
"Come on, Ben, let's hustle!"
We ran across the entrance lobby, skipping the elevators and heading straight for the stairs. We dashed up the three flights of stairs. Ben was pretty out of breath by the time we got to the top, but I still had plenty of steam left, even though my shoulder, with the gunshot wound, was aching a little. I didn't bother to wait for Ben; there was no time. Instead, I sprinted down the hallway, looking for room 35C.
I found it right near the end, and there, lying on a bed, with all sorts of tubes hooked up to his body, was a tall, skinny high school kid. He was still conscious, but he looked very woozy. I guess they had pumped him full of painkillers. Not bothering to wait for Ben, I charged into the room.
"Kendrick Green! Are you Kendrick Green?" I asked eagerly.
He turned his head slowly to the side and looked at me with a half-confused expression on his face.
"I... yeah... I'm Kendrick Green. Who... who are... you?"
"I'm Everett James, your new principal at JFK High."
"Oh, yeah, man... that's where... I saw you... before..."
"Listen, Kendrick, I heard about what happened. And I want to say thank you. Thank you for doing your best to fight these drug-dealing scumbags who are ruining these kids' lives in our neighborhoods and our schools. You're a true hero, Kendrick, a true hero – and I'll see to it that you're properly honored and rewarded for your heroism. Right now, though, before you go into surgery, we just need you to ID the kids who were buying the Rocket. Can you do that for us? Ben – Mr. Henderson, the deputy principal, he's bringing a yearbook to show you pictures so that you can show us exactly who it was who was buying the drugs. Can you do that?
"Yeah... I... can..."
Ben came stumbling into the room, huffing and puffing with his face bright red from exertion.
"He's still conscious?" he asked.
"I... am... Mr. Henderson," replied Kendrick, recognizing Ben.
"You're a good kid, Kendrick, a real good kid. And you did an amazing thing today. And we're very, very sorry that this happened to you. But can you help us, just with this one thing?"
"I can... I... can..."
Just then, however, a doctor burst into the room.
"Hey!" he shouted. "What the heck is going on here?! You're not supposed to be in here! No visitors in this ward at all! Get out, immediately! That patient is in critical condition! Get out now!"
"Just hold your horses, we need to ask him a question or two," I replied. "Then we'll leave."
"No, you'll leave right now."
"Ben, bring the book over here and show Kendrick the pictures."
Ben hurried over to the side of the bed, opening the yearbook to the pages we needed to show Kendrick.
"I'm calling security," muttered the doctor as he stormed off.
"We'd better hurry, Ben. Looks like we've got about thirty seconds for Kendrick to ID those kids before we're forcibly removed from here."
"Alright, Kendrick," Ben said as he showed Kendrick the pictures. "Can you identify the kids who were buying the drugs? I know there are several classes of kids to look through, but just look and see if you can recognize them."
Kendrick started peering at the faces, and that was when I heard the heavy tramping of footsteps running down the hallway.
"They're in 35C!" I heard the doctor shout. "Get them out by whatever means necessary!"
I headed to the door, determined to hold off the security guards for as long as it took Kendrick to identify the kids.
I popped my head out the door and saw three burly security guards armed with Tasers and batons charging our way.
"You!" one of them shouted, pointing a thick finger at me. "Get out of here now, before we're compelled to use force to remove you!"
"Hurry, Kendrick, hurry," I muttered under my breath as I closed the door and braced my body against it.
"Come on, Kendrick, do you see the kids who were buying the drugs? Do you see them in there?"
"Not... yet... still... looking..."
At that moment, the security guards reached the door.
"Open the door, sir, open it right now!" shouted the lead one as he gripped the door handle.
"We're not done yet!" I yelled back at him.
"That's it, you've had your warning. We’ve called the police and you will be forced from these premises!"
I braced myself for impact as he put his shoulder down and rammed the door. I managed to hold it closed, but this guy was pretty strong, and I wasn't sure how long I could hold him back for.
"Have you found them, Kendrick?" I asked.
The security guard rammed the door again, and this time he did it with such force that I was forced back. Still, I recovered and got my shoulder up against the door as he charged again. This time the door opened a crack, and I was only just able to force it shut before one of them tried to wedge their batons in the gap.
"That's it, Jeff, help me out here!" the security guard shouted to his friend.
Together, they lined themselves up outside the door, preparing to ram it in unison. There was no way I could hold it against both of them simultaneously, but I had to try. I dug my heels into the ground and forced all my weight against the door as I heard them counting down.
"Three, two, one, hit it!"
Their combined mass slammed into the door. As strong as I was, I couldn't hold it. I was thrown back and fell hard on the floor, and the door burst open as the security guards charged into the room. But right at that moment, Kendrick's eyes lit up.
"Those two," he said, tapping his finger on the faces of two boys in the yearbook. "It was …those two."
The security guards grabbed Ben and me and started hauling us roughly out.
"Thank you, Kendrick!" I shouted over my shoulder as the guards manhandled me out of the room and frog-marched us down the hallway.
"Alright, you jerks, you can let us go now; we're leaving," said Ben.
"We'll let you idiots go when you're off hospital premises," said the head security guard defiantly.
They forced us into the elevator and held us pinned against the elevator walls as we went downstairs. These guys obviously only had minimal training, and I could easily have broken out of the hold and taken them down, but obviously, I didn't want to unnecessarily escalate the situation. It was better to just play along and cooperate. We had the information we had come for.
As the elevator reached the ground floor, they marched us roughly out to the main entrance, and then when we got to the doors, they shoved us out and stood in the doorway, blocking it.
"I don't wanna see you two clowns back here again," snarled the lead guard. "And if you are dumb enough to come back, we're calling the cops."
"Don't worry, man, we're good; we won't be back," I said. "Come on, Ben, let's go."
We turned around, dusted ourselves off and then walked briskly back to the car. Once we got to it, I turned to Ben.
"Alright, so who are the kids Kendrick identified?"
"They're 11th graders. One is William Stevens; the other is Leon Brownell. Both are troublemakers; they've been spending most Saturdays in detention ever since they started at JFK High."
"Real high-quality students," I remarked sarcastically.
"Yeah. Well, at least we have their names now. Means we can look up their contact info. We have to head str
aight to their houses and speak to them and their parents."
"Do you think they'll even be there?" I asked. "They know Kendrick got shot, and they must know that this is serious business. If they have even an ounce of sense, they will have gone into hiding."
He nodded. "They probably have, but we have to try. Their parents might be able to tell us where they may have gone. They should at least be able to give us some details of these boys' friends and acquaintances, anyone who might be able to point us in the right direction to finding out about their whereabouts."
"Well, what are we waiting for?”
"Brownell and Stevens, here we go," said Ben as he pulled up their records. "You got a pen there, Ev? Write down these phone numbers and addresses."
He told me the phone numbers and addresses, and I scribbled them down on a piece of scrap paper.
"Great. That's it, that's what we need," I said. "Now what do you think, should we call their parents now, or just skip that and head straight on over to their houses and chat to them in person?"
Ben thought about this for a few moments. "I think let's skip the phone calls. This matter is too serious to chat about over the phone. We need to talk to these boys' parents in person."
"I agree. Well, who first? I don't know this town too well yet, so you'll have to drive."
"No problem." He glanced over the addresses. "William Stevens lives closer to the school than Leon Brownell does, so I guess let's head over to his place first. I can only hope that his parents are there, and that they're cooperative. Sometimes the parents of these problem students are as bad as the kids themselves."
"Believe me, I know all about that," I remarked.
We headed out to the car and climbed in.
"Alright, William Stevens, you little punk, we're coming for you," I muttered.
"Damn right," added Ben. “Look, I just have to say at this stage, thank you, Everett. Seriously. Before you came along, no other teacher here had the, uh, excuse me for saying so, but the balls to do this. You're helping me immensely. I'm glad you're here, helping to turn things around at this school."
"No problem, Ben. I'm glad you're so committed to stamping out the scourge of this drug problem. Really, I am."
"Well enough of this; we've got work to do. Come on!"