The Sex Club

by L. J. Sellers

  “Nicole?” Mrs. Greeley was suddenly standing over her, trying to get her attention. Nicole quickly shut down the website.

  “Yes?”

  “Why aren’t you in class? This isn’t your free period.”

  “Sorry, I forgot my homework and didn’t want to be called on.”

  The technology teacher shook her head. “You’d better get going.”

  Nicole picked up her backpack and shuffled out. But she didn’t head for math. There was no way she was interrupting that class again. Besides, she was still confused and unable to concentrate. She wished she had a rational adult she could talk to about sex and God and why a person could not have both.

  Thursday, October 21, 1:16 p.m.

  Kera drove from the Mongolian Grill directly to Kincaid Middle School. Traffic was light and she was happy to be out and about in the warm afternoon. There would not be many more days like this. They were already shorter and darker and the cold weather was coming.

  She had called Kincaid’s principal, Andrew Taber, this morning, and he’d reluctantly agreed to give her twenty minutes of his time this afternoon. He was leaving tomorrow to attend a conference, and apparently he didn’t want this meeting waiting for him when he got back. Kera was always surprised at how uncomfortable the subject of teen sex and birth control made people.

  As Kera walked across the south Eugene campus, a crisp wind carried the smell of damp grass and triggered a nostalgic, back-to-school memory—new clothes, fresh books, and the anticipation that exciting things were about to happen. The feeling stayed with her as she crossed the narrow lawn and entered the front office. Young people were everywhere. Waiting in chairs, standing in the short hallway. Two female students were even behind the reception counter assisting other students. Kera waited her turn until one of the young assistants pointed her “down the hallway and to the left.”

  Taber’s office was small and cluttered, with only one narrow vertical window. The view, which could not be enjoyed from where the principal was seated, was of a dull gray building on the other side of a walkway. Kera wondered how much he was paid to spend his days in such a claustrophobic environment. It made her appreciate her job.

  Taber was her height and a little stocky. His hair brushed his coat collar, and his glasses had minimalist frames. A liberal, she thought, pleased. The principal shook her hand as they exchanged names and pleasantries.

  Kera took a seat.

  “What can I help you with?” His tone was abrupt and wary.

  “I’d like to know about your sex education curriculum and perhaps recommend some supplementary reference material.” Taber didn’t respond, so Kera plunged forward. “Planned Parenthood is sponsoring an outreach program that involves young people acting as mentors and educators for other young people. These programs have been very successful in Europe, and we hope to duplicate that success with the support of local schools.”

  “We don’t have a sex education curriculum anymore,” Taber said. He took off his glasses and cleaned them on his sleeve as he talked. “Historically, Oregon has had a progressive attitude about young people’s ability to think for themselves. That is why our state allows Planned Parenthood to dispense birth control to minors without parental consent. But in many schools, Kincaid included, sex education has come under pressure from the Conservative Culture Alliance.” Taber sighed. “Between the CCA and budget cuts, we had to cut sex ed from the curriculum.”

  Kera was distressed that she had not been aware of this. Had it happened recently? “The high schools are still teaching it, aren’t they?”

  “Sort of.” Taber telegraphed that their meeting was over. “I don’t think there’s anything I can do to assist you.”

  “Can I put up some flyers?”

  Taber pushed his hands through his hair. “I’d rather you didn’t. As much as I want our students to have access to information, I don’t relish the idea of getting the CCA stirred up again.”

  “Can you recommend some student hangouts nearby?”

  He smiled, and Kera realized he was amused by her determination.

  “There’s Sam’s Pizza on Patterson Street.”

  As Kera jotted it down, Taber stood to see her out. “Even though I am unable to assist your efforts, Ms. Kollmorgan, I do appreciate them. I truly hope your peer program is successful.”

  “Thanks, me too.”

  Kera headed back through the throng of kids in the front office, who had been joined by some parents. Outside, the day was bright and crisp—her favorite weather—but a sense of emotional weariness seeped into her soul. After nearly an eighty-year struggle, beginning with Margaret Sanger and others like her, women were still battling the same puritanical forces for reproductive freedom that their grandmothers had fought. Kera wondered if they would ever prevail.

  As she moved toward the parking lot, a group of yellow buses pulled up in front of the school. Kera waited for a safer moment to cross the parking lot. After a moment, a soft voice on her right said, “Excuse me.”

  Kera turned to see a nervous young girl trying to get her attention. She was slender, with long dark hair and a tiny upturned nose. Her outfit of black Capri pants and short pink blouse looked almost retro. Kera thought she seemed familiar.

  “Hello.”

  The girl leaned in close and whispered, “You’re from Planned Parenthood, aren’t you?”

  “Yes.” Kera recognized her voice from the phone call yesterday. “Are you Nicole?”

  The girl looked startled for a second, then asked, “Are you the one who had Jessie’s phone?” Just then, the school’s buzzer rang. Moments later, the walkway was swarming with middle school kids.

  Kera leaned down and said softly, “Would you like to continue this conversation?”

  “Yes, but not here.” Nicole’s eye’s darted around.

  “We can talk in my car.”

  “What kind is it? I’ll follow you out there.”

  “It’s a white Saturn parked in the upper lot. See you in a minute.” Kera quickly stepped between two big yellow buses and headed across the parking lot. It amused her that Nicole didn’t want to be seen with her. Was she worried that another student might recognize Kera from the clinic? Or was she embarrassed by Kera’s purple blazer? You never knew. Kids were particular about clothes and acquaintances.

  Kera found herself hurrying. She was quite curious about what Nicole had to say, especially after the girl’s emotional outburst on the phone yesterday. Once she was in the car, the minutes ticked, and she thought Nicole might have changed her mind. Then suddenly, she was there, sliding into the seat next to her.

  Kera waited for the girl to speak. Experience had taught her that was the best way to prime a ready pump. Finally, Nicole asked, “Do you believe in God?”

  Kera had not expected this subject. She treaded lightly. “I used to believe there was a higher power, a purpose in our existence, but I’m not sure anymore.”

  “How come?”

  “People keep dying. It’s hard to find purpose in that.”

  Nicole nodded. “I believe in God, but I don’t believe everything they say in church. I don’t understand why dancing and sex are supposedly sins.”

  “A lot of people don’t believe that they are.”

  “But are they honest about it?” Nicole twisted in her seat to scan the parking lot. “Or do they just go ahead and do whatever they want, but then keep quiet about it around other church people?”

  Kera felt unprepared for this conversation. She was much more comfortable talking about sex than about religion. She gave it her most diplomatic effort. “Most people try to find a church that supports their personal beliefs. The Unitarian Church, where I used to attend, is open-minded about sex and dancing and all kinds of things.”

  “My parents would never let me go there.”

  “You’ll have more choices when you get older. In the meantime, you can try to make the best of it.”

  Nicole twisted nervously at her hai
r. “I hate lying to my parents, but I can’t tell them the truth without hurting them. And I don’t want to get my friends into big trouble.” Her eyes went wide with despair. “I don’t know what to do.”

  Kera’s heart went out to the girl. “Can I assume we’re talking about sex?” And not just any sex, Kera thought, remembering the chat room conversation she’d read.

  Nicole nodded.

  “It’s a tough situation to be in.” Kera chose her words carefully. “I can’t tell you what is right for you. But there might be some middle ground. One option is to simply stop the activity and not say anything to your parents. You can also ask your friends not to tell you about their sexual experiences. That way you have nothing to hide from anyone. Unless you’re worried about your friends. Are they engaged in risky sexual behavior?”

  “No.” Nicole looked away, then back. “Sometimes.” Tears suddenly welled up in her eyes. “I loved Jessie. And I think God killed her as a punishment.”

  A loud rapping on the window startled both of them. On Nicole’s side of the car, a young boy had his faced pressed against the glass and was making monkey gestures with his mouth. Nicole shook her head and waved him off. As she watched him walk away, someone or something else caught her eye. The girl’s expression instantly changed from grief to fear. Kera tried to zero in on who she was looking at, but the area in front of the school was still crawling with buses, students, and teachers. It was impossible to tell who she had seen.

  “I’d better go. Thanks for talking to me.” Nicole was already on the move.

  “Nicole, wait.” Kera reached over and touched her lightly on the arm. “I don’t believe that God punishes people for having sex. Jessie may have gotten involved with the wrong person. If you know who he is, you should tell the police. Or tell me and I’ll pass it along.”

  “I don’t know.” Nicole jumped from the car. “See you.”

  As Ruth waited to speak with the vice-principal about Rachel’s attendance record—her teachers had messed it up again—she was startled to see Kera Kollmorgan walk out of Andrew Taber’s office. Her heart missed a beat. What was the abortionist-whore from Planned Parenthood doing at her daughter’s school? She’d better not be spreading her promiscuous propaganda here, Ruth thought, or she is in for the fight of her life.

  Ruth quickly abandoned her quest and followed Kollmorgan outside. Under different circumstances, she would have gladly confronted the whore right then and there. But considering her campaign against the clinic—Kollmorgan in particular—Ruth thought it best not to get too close. But still, it was important to keep an eye on Kollmorgan. So Ruth watched and waited from a distance. Rachel and Caleb were probably waiting in the car, but they would survive a few minutes of inconvenience.

  Ruth’s breath caught in her throat as she saw Nicole Clarke walk up to Kollmorgan and speak to her. What was Nicole doing? Did she know the abortionist? How and why? Ruth watched as the two talked briefly. Then Kollmorgan walked off, leaving Nicole standing there. Ruth let out a sigh of relief. Perhaps it meant nothing. Maybe Nicole was just being friendly, offering directions or something.

  Ruth hurried to the end of the sidewalk so she could see around the buses and into the parking lot. In the upper section, the abortionist -whore climbed into her little SUV but didn’t start the engine. The woman leaned back like someone who was planning to wait. Ruth glanced back at Nicole, who was now talking to a boy Ruth didn’t know. The boy stood close, stroking Nicole’s beautiful hair. Ruth was dismayed that the teacher standing nearby didn’t intervene. Why did they allow such inappropriate behavior at school?

  Ruth glanced back to the upper parking lot. Kollmorgan was still waiting for something or someone. Ruth turned her attention back to Nicole just in time to see the boy give the girl a full body hug. Ruth’s jaw ached with tension. Then Nicole pulled away and darted out through the buses. She crossed the lower lot and headed into the upper parking area. One of the buses roared to life and pulled out, obscuring Ruth’s view. As soon as it passed, she darted across the driveway, causing the next bus in line to brake hard to avoid hitting her.

  Ruth didn’t care. She had to see where Nicole was headed. The girl stepped out from behind a row of cars, then quickly walked up to Kollmorgan’s SUV and slipped in.

  Oh no. Shooting pains filled her stomach. How dare that harlot come to the school to brainwash one of God’s children. Ruth desperately wanted to dash up to the car and drag Nicole away. But she couldn’t. Approaching Kollmorgan face to face while she was targeting her would be dangerous. Ruth had no intention of getting caught and arrested. The greater good would be served by keeping her distance.

  But only for the moment. Ruth planned to deliver swift and righteous justice to the abortionist. Jesus had been very clear about that. Ruth knew the passage by heart:

  Whoever causes one of these little ones who believe in me to sin, it would be better for him to have a great millstone hung around his neck and to be drowned in the depths of the sea. Woe to the world because of things that cause sin! Such things must come, but woe to the one through which they come!

  Yes, Kollmorgan would suffer for this.

  Ruth couldn’t take her eyes off the car. What were they talking about? How did Nicole even know the woman? Ruth dug in her purse for an Ativan and put it under her tongue to dissolve. She had to settle herself down. On the way to her car, Ruth prayed for Nicole. Keep her mind pure, dear Lord. Don’t let her be influenced by the abortionist-whore.

  “Hey mom.” Ruth looked up to see her daughter hurrying in her direction. “What are you doing?”

  “Just stretching my legs while I wait.” Ruth wanted to give Rachel a hug, but she knew better than to do so when they were at school. Rachel would only make a face and squirm away.

  Her daughter glanced over at Kollmorgan’s car where Nicole and the abortionist were still engaged in conversation. “You were watching Nicole,” Rachel accused.

  “I just wondered who she was talking to.”

  Rachel shrugged. “I have no idea who that is.”

  “I’m worried about Nicole,” Ruth said. “I want you to stay close to her. Don’t let her forget that she is God’s child.”

  “Of course. She’s my friend.”

  Ruth took the opportunity to remind her daughter that there was guidance in scripture for almost everything. “You know what Jesus said about friends: Greater love has no one than this, that he lay down his life for his friends.”

  Chapter 14

  Thursday, October 21, 3:25 p.m.

  Jackson left a message with the district attorney, asking Victor Slonecker for a meeting ASAP. Then he contacted McCray, Evans, and Schakowski and called them in for a task force update. Schak was already in the building. While still talking to him, Jackson looked up and saw his partner walking toward him, cell phone pressed against his ear. They both hung up.

  “You have something. I can see it on your face.” Schak pulled up a chair. “What is it?”

  “I’d better wait until everyone is here. In the meantime, I need you to contact the preacher or secretary or whoever at First Bible Baptist and get a list of everyone who attends church there. We need it right now. Ask them to fax it. If they can’t, go pick it up.”

  “I’m on it.”

  Schakowski hustled over to his own desk. Jackson closed his eyes and tried to work through a plan. Should he have a conversation with Fieldstone and give the mayor a chance to explain his phone calls to Jessie and proximity to the girl’s dead body? Or would that simply give their new suspect an opportunity to cover his tracks and lawyer up? Jackson wished he had at least one piece of physical evidence. It would be so much easier to make the right move.

  The apartment. They needed to search the mayor’s Oakwood apartment immediately. Jackson began to write up the paperwork. Did he have enough to justify a search warrant? Probably not. He needed the district attorney’s counsel and clout on this one. This was the biggest fish he’d ever had on his line, and he c
ouldn’t afford to take one wrong step.

  He pushed the search warrant aside and called the state medical examiner’s office. Debbie answered.

  “It’s Officer Jackson. Are any of the Davenport labs back yet?”

  “Let me check.”

  He drummed the desktop with his pen and sipped his cold coffee. In a minute, she was back. “I know it’s you, but protocol says you have to give me the case number before I can tell you anything.”

  Jackson shuffled through his paperwork, found the code, and rattled it off.

  “Thanks.” She paused as if to consult the paperwork. “We only have a preliminary report. There was no semen in the vagina, but there were traces of vinegar.”

  “Say that again.”

  “Vinegar. It’s a common ingredient in vaginal douches.”

  “So our suspect washed away his trace evidence?”

  “Only from the vagina. There was semen in the anus and two hairs in her pubic area that do not belong to the victim. We’ll have a DNA profile for both the semen and the hair sometime in the next few days. Then we’ll compare it to the body standard you brought in this morning.”

  “Anything else?”

  “Her last meal was a nutrition bar, heavy on the soy protein.”

  “What about cause of death?”

  “Nothing more definitive yet. Ainsworth is still looking at lung tissue.”

  “Thanks. Tell her to call me the minute she knows for sure.”

  “She will.”

  Jackson hung up. He had to keep his mind open and wait for evidence. Grady was still in the picture. Those pubic hairs could be his. Maybe Fieldstone was Jessie’s uncle or godfather, thus explaining the calls. And the proximity of the apartment could be a coincidence. Both quite possible. Jackson shook his head. Un-fucking likely. He left a second message with Slonecker, letting the DA know about the task force meeting.