Picture Perfect Murder

by Rachel Dylan

  What would happen to those kids when they learned one of their own was dead? When they heard it was Luke Thompson who’d been killed? They would be devastated.

  You killed Luke with your meddling.

  Those words rushed back to her and she shuddered. She’d only wanted to help Luke, not get him killed.

  Chills ran up her spine. She might have been lying beside Luke if Matt hadn’t arrived. But what was he doing at the school? She wasn’t surprised to see him in town, since she knew his sister, Alisa, was getting married in two weeks and most of the family was returning for the wedding. But what had he been doing at the school on a Sunday afternoon?

  She realized those were the same questions he’d asked of her. Only, she’d told him why she was there. He had yet to explain his presence. She’d been so thankful he was there that she hadn’t even thought to question him about why he’d come.

  The roar of the crowd outside grew louder as the front door to the school pushed open and she saw Principal Spencer enter. He let the door close behind him as he headed into the office.

  “Claire. What are you doing here? The news is saying a body was found on campus?”

  “It was one of our students, Luke Thompson.”

  “Luke? What do they think happened?”

  “Someone killed him. I found his body and someone was there. He tried to grab me.”

  Principal Spencer’s face was instantly full of concern for her. “Are you hurt? How did you get away?”

  “Someone else rescued me. I don’t know what would have happened if he hadn’t arrived when he did.”

  “Has anyone notified Luke’s parents? They’ll be devastated.”

  “I don’t know.”

  “I’ll go find out. Will you start calling the faculty and let them know what’s happened? We’ll need to coordinate a response, arrange for counselors and such.”

  “Certainly.”

  She hadn’t thought about calling anyone, not even him. She supposed that was why he was the principal. He had a take-charge attitude and remained calm during a time of crisis.

  She found a phone list on the secretary’s desk and began making calls.

  * * *

  Matt returned to the classroom and stared at the body on the floor. He couldn’t help thinking what a shame it was that someone so young was gone. Yes, he’d seen death before—too many times before—but it still struck him as tragic. This kid was only seventeen at best, much too young to have been caught up in drugs and drug rings. But it was an all too common tale, he’d discovered since coming to work for the DEA. Kids and drugs. Devastated lives. Shattered families. He was tired of the senselessness of it all.

  Preston stood over the body, examining it. “It looks like his throat was slit. We’ll have to wait for an autopsy report, but I suspect that will be the cause of death.”

  Matt had to concur. He, too, suspected Luke’s throat was cut, but an autopsy would tell them how quickly he died. Was this the work of an experienced killer or an amateur? The answer to that question would provide them leads in finding the person responsible.

  Preston stood. “We haven’t located the murder weapon yet, but I’ll have my guys conduct a search.”

  “We should start along the path he took when he ran out. It’s possible he tossed the weapon when he ran.”

  Preston nodded. “That could include the parking lot and the woods behind the school.” He stared out the window at the crowd already gathered. “And the area has already been contaminated. I’ll have someone clear out this crowd.” Preston got on the radio and issued his instructions for the search.

  A uniformed officer poked his head through the door and addressed Preston. “The school principal is here. He’d like to speak with someone.”

  Preston nodded. “Tell him I’ll be right out.”

  Matt followed Preston into the hallway. A tall, sandy-haired man was waiting for them. He extended his hand. “I’m Bill Spencer, principal of Lakeshore High School. Can you tell me what happened?”

  Preston took the lead. “Only that the body of one of your students was discovered in this classroom. We suspect foul play.”

  “Claire said it was Luke Thompson. Was anyone else involved? Do you have any idea why this happened?”

  “We’re still investigating, Principal Spencer.”

  “Of course. Well, you can see half the town is already aware a body has been found. I’d like to be able to tell my students and teachers something about what happened here.”

  “We just don’t have enough evidence yet to draw conclusions, much less make them public.”

  “Will we be able to open the school for classes tomorrow?”

  “We’re still processing the scene. It’s too early to tell.”

  “I understand, but it’s imperative we get these kids back into school as soon as possible. It’s an important element to helping them cope. We’ll be calling in mental health counselors to assist the students in their grieving process.”

  Matt was surprised when Preston seemed to offer the principal something. Protecting the crime scene should have been the most important thing. “For right now, this entire hall and portions of the parking lot and back forty are off-limits. We may open those to students if we don’t find anything, but this classroom will be inaccessible until we finish our investigation. It’s a crime scene. But I think you’ll be able to reopen for classes by Tuesday.”

  Principal Spencer nodded. “We’ll utilize the cafeteria, auditorium and the courtyard for the overflow. I’ll make an announcement about the school reopening Tuesday. And don’t worry, Detective, we will keep this area off-limits. We won’t do anything to compromise this investigation. This tragedy will shake the school to its foundations. Luke was well liked. We’ll be concentrating on helping the students cope with his death. I’ve already got Claire placing calls to the other teachers.”

  “The parents are here,” a uniformed officer told them.

  “Would you mind if I’m there when you talk to the Thompsons about Luke?” the principal asked. “I think it would help for them to see a familiar face.”

  “We’ll have to ask some difficult questions of the family,” Preston told him. “Perhaps it would be better if you were there. This is Agent Ross of the DEA. He’ll be joining us, as well. We’ll need to use your office.”

  “Certainly,” Principal Spencer said. “Anything I can do to help.”

  Luke’s parents were ushered into the principal’s office. They’d already been informed that their son was dead. Mrs. Thompson sat quietly, shock pressing on her heavily made-up face. Her mascara hadn’t even run and Matt had to wonder if she’d shed a tear yet. Shock had that effect on some people. It would hit her, though, and it would be hard and painful. Mr. Thompson expressed his grief differently—he was vocal.

  “I want to know what my son was doing here,” he demanded. “And why was that teacher meeting him here alone? I want answers.”

  “We’re working on that, Mr. Thompson.” Preston was the picture of grace and ease, and Matt had to admit he admired the man’s ability to handle this difficult situation. “We all want answers. When was the last time you saw Luke?”

  His mother’s hands shook, so she clenched them together, fighting to keep her composure. “Last night. He said he was going out with friends.”

  “You didn’t see him when he came home?”

  “No, I was already asleep. Luke was a very independent boy. He didn’t take a lot of oversight. If he said he was going to be home by midnight, he was. I didn’t think anything about it. I left the house early this morning for a meeting. I assumed he was still sleeping upstairs.”

  “Luke was a good kid,” Mr. Thompson said. “He had a lot of friends.”

  “Do you know if Luke was involved in any kind of drug use?”


  “What? No. I would know if my son was doing drugs. Luke was too smart to do something that dumb.”

  Matt stepped forward and produced his DEA credentials. “My name is Matt Ross. I’m with the DEA. Your son contacted me with information he had about a drug ring operating in Lakeshore. I believe that’s what got him killed.”

  “You think Luke was using drugs?” Mr. Thompson asked.

  “We believe he was doing more than taking them. We believe he was selling, as well,” Matt said.

  Matt watched his reaction and saw the typical parental denial. It seemed genuine, though. It didn’t appear that the Thompsons knew about Luke’s extracurricular activities.

  “We gave Luke everything he needed,” Mr. Thompson said. “Why would he be involved with selling drugs? He certainly didn’t need the money. I don’t want you spreading these lies about my son. He wasn’t doing drugs and he certainly wasn’t selling them, regardless of what you say. Someone killed my son. Concentrate on finding that person, not on vilifying my boy.”

  It wasn’t the first time Matt had seen parents refuse to admit the truth about their kids. Luke was dead and they would do whatever they could to preserve their memory of him. But Matt had another job—uncovering the truth. And the truth was that Luke had reached out to him, offering information about a drug ring operating out of the school. The kid had known something. If only they’d had the opportunity to talk more in depth.

  His mind skimmed over the initial details Luke had given on the phone. He’d identified the drug being sold in his school as Trixie, and he’d hinted someone inside was involved.

  Had Luke told Claire who it was? Was she too frightened to tell, after seeing what had happened to Luke? Or was she truly as innocent as she claimed to be?

  Someone believed she knew more, or else why lure her to the school? To find out what Luke had told her? Or to make certain she didn’t know more than she should? If he knew the answer to that, he might know whether the attacker had planned to question her or kill her if Matt hadn’t shown up.

  How had Claire gotten involved in this mess? The Claire he’d known had been kind and innocent. It didn’t matter that years had passed since he’d last seen her. He couldn’t imagine she’d changed. People simply didn’t change that much. But then when he’d known her, she hadn’t been counseling drug dealers, either. Had her involvement with Luke placed a target on her back?

  Matt remained quiet as Preston ended the conference with the Thompsons, assuring them again that the police would do everything in their power to bring Luke’s killer to justice. As they were leaving, Matt slipped out. He walked back to the main office, but Claire wasn’t there. He found her in one of the other classrooms using the sink in the corner to fill a coffeepot with water. She still wore his jacket, which made her look small and petite. Wisps of dark hair fell across her cheek, loosened from their clip during her struggle. They framed her beautiful face and her big blue eyes—eyes he’d spent years gazing lovingly into, and many more years dreaming of.

  She eyed him watching her. “I figure they’ll be wanting some coffee soon. I thought I would make a pot.”

  He smiled. That was so Claire. Trying to take care of everyone else when she was the one who’d experienced an awful fright. He was suddenly tongue-tied, uncertain of what to say to her in this moment when there was nothing but the past between them.

  “How have you been?” she asked, starting the awful, awkward conversation he’d known was coming.

  “I’ve been good,” he told her. “Real good.” He rubbed his face, trying without success to wipe away the overwhelming desire to take her in his arms again and assure her that everything would be fine. But as Preston Ware had pointed out, that was no longer his right to do. “So you became a teacher? What do you teach?”

  “Chemistry.”

  “You always were good at science. Better than me, that’s for sure.” He glanced around at the room they were in. He’d been holding back a slew of memories that had emerged the moment he’d stepped through the door into Lakeshore High. He’d spent four years at this school, good years. “Didn’t we have a class in this room?”

  She nodded. “Western Civ.”

  He grinned, remembering those days. “Coach Rollins. I wonder whatever happened to him.”

  “He died of a heart attack last year.”

  He forgot he wasn’t just reminiscing with some old friend. She’d been here in town. She’d kept up with all those people he’d left behind. “I’m sorry to hear that.”

  “Look, Matt, there are a lot of places in this building, even in this town, where we took classes or hung out together. I know it must be awkward for you, but I face those places every day. I put those memories behind me a long time ago.”

  Ouch, right to the point. “Claire, I owe you an apology.”

  “Don’t. Please don’t apologize. We were just kids back then.”

  “The accident—”

  “Was just an accident, Matt.”

  “I shouldn’t have been drinking and driving.”

  “We were both drinking that night. We both used bad judgment.”

  “Then you at least have to let me apologize for leaving the way I did.”

  “It’s not necessary.”

  He flashed back to the night of the accident and the sight of her broken body being pulled out from the wrecked car. It was the image of her he’d carried with him for the past ten years. “You look good, Claire. Are you... Is everything okay?”

  She nodded. “It took a few surgeries and a lot of rehab, but I’m okay now.” She rubbed her hip unconsciously and he wondered if it bothered her. He’d noticed her limping earlier. “You are hurt,” he said, motioning to her hip.

  She reddened, then waved away his concern. “It’s nothing.”

  “You need to have that checked out.”

  “It’s nothing,” she insisted, and the red on her face deepened. “It’s from an old injury. It just acts up on occasion.”

  He realized her old injury was from the car wreck and shame filled him. She was still suffering from his wrong choices even after all these years.

  She set the coffeepot to the side. “Actually, I’m tired. It’s been a very long day and I’m ready to go home and crawl into bed.”

  “That’s a bad idea,” Matt said. “You shouldn’t be alone until we find the person who killed Luke and attacked you.”

  “I’ll be fine. I was just in the wrong place at the wrong time. No one is after me.”

  “We don’t know that, Claire. You could still be in danger.”

  She glanced up at him, curiosity pooling in her eyes. “Why? What did you find?”

  “Luke didn’t send you that text asking you to come to the school. He couldn’t have. He was already dead by the time that text was sent.”

  “But it came from his phone. How can you possibly know that with any certainty?”

  “I saw enough dead bodies during my time with the rangers and I’m telling you Luke has been dead for hours, which means someone else used his phone to send you that text message. Whoever it was lured you here and was waiting for you, Claire.”

  He saw her mind racing. “Who would do that? Who would want to hurt me?”

  “That’s a good question, and one we need to figure out.”

  “I’m sure the text thing was just a fluke. Sometimes text messages get hung up in cyberspace.”

  He shook his head. He’d meant it when he’d said he wasn’t leaving until he knew Claire was safe...and that was looking less and less likely. There was no way he was going to let her go home alone. She would be a sitting target. “Why don’t you go and stay with your folks for a few days? Just until we have time to sort all of this out?”

  “My parents are on a cruise.”

  “What about
friends? I would feel better if you weren’t alone.”

  “Matt, I appreciate your concern, but I’m fine. I’m sure you’re worried about nothing. Like you said, I don’t know anything, so there’s no reason to believe my life is in danger.”

  Her stubborn streak hadn’t changed, and past experience told him that once she’d made up her mind, it was no use arguing. All he could do was try to figure out who killed Luke as quickly as possible. “Fine, but I’m driving you home.”

  “That’s not necessary. I have my car.”

  “I know, but I would feel better if you’d let me drive you.” Drive her home. Make sure she’s safely inside. Then back to his life and let Detective Preston Ware step into the role of good guy. It no longer fit him.

  She chewed on her bottom lip, a clear indication she was nervous about being alone with him. At least that hadn’t changed. Finally, she gave a resigned sigh and agreed to let him drive her.

  * * *

  What on earth had she been thinking?

  Allowing Matt to drive her home had been a phenomenal mistake.

  She nearly burst out laughing as he climbed into her Volkswagen Bug, his long legs claiming the front seat and his knees nearly in his chest. He pushed back the seat to its farthest position, then started the engine.

  “Are you sure you want to do this?” she asked him. “How will you get back to your vehicle?”

  “It’s only a couple of miles back to the school. I’ve hiked farther than that with a loaded pack in the pouring down rain. A clear spring night with a slight breeze will make it a piece of cake.”

  She’d imagined him before doing his army training, and now she had an image of him carrying a heavy pack in the rain.

  One more image of Matt Ross to file away.

  He looked so different and yet so much like the Matt she remembered. He was taller and broader, a man instead of the boy she’d known. But his hazel eyes were still intense and his gaze on her still held the power to make her toes tingle. She turned to stare out the window as she felt her face flush with embarrassment.