The girl didn’t pause or look back.
‘Oh dear,’ the priest said. ‘What happened, Lieutenant?’
‘What did she tell you, Father?’
‘She said that she taped the latch on a door at the school.’
‘Did she tell you why?’
‘She said that she wanted to see if it would still be there when she went back to school Monday morning.’
‘She did it for someone else, Father, and I pressured her to tell me that person’s name. She was very unhappy about that. Thanks for everything, Father.’
They shook hands and Lucinda left the church. As soon as she went outside, she called Jake. His cell phone went straight to voicemail so she punched his office number into the keyboard. When she asked to speak with him, she was told that he was in a conference call.
Lucinda drove back to the Justice Center to get organized. She decided she’d talk to Brittany Schaffer at the high school first. Then she’d go find Jimmy Van Dyke. She could be wrong but the coincidental absence of Brittany’s truck the same weekend Jimmy was driving a red pick-up could not be ignored.
FORTY-FIVE
Lucinda was at her desk, making arrangements with Principal Rose Johnson for a second interview with Brittany Schaffer. As soon as she hung up, she heard the captain’s voice coming from the doorway. ‘My office now, Pierce.’
Lucinda sighed. She hoped whatever the captain had to say wouldn’t take long. Rose expected her at the high school in half an hour. She sat down across from Holland’s desk and said, ‘Yes, sir.’
‘Good news this time, Pierce. You are back in charge of the investigation at the high school.’
Lucinda smiled. ‘Thank you, sir.’
‘Don’t thank me, Pierce. This was all Lovett’s doing. So don’t blow it.’
‘Blow it, sir?’
‘I’ve been warned, Pierce.’
‘Warned?’
‘OK, threatened. The police chief told me that all eyes will be on you and how you conduct this investigation. He’s worried you won’t be up to speed.’
‘But, sir—’
‘No, Pierce, I didn’t dare tell him that I authorized you to proceed in that sneaky fashion we cooked up.’
‘We, sir?’
‘Don’t push it, Pierce. He’s also worried that you might not be up to the task – you might not be knowledgeable enough about terrorist plots.’
‘But, sir—’
‘No, Pierce, I didn’t tell him that you thought this had nothing to do with any terrorist group or outside agitators. Just solve the damn case. Then he won’t be able to argue. But don’t forget: the police chief feels the whole department is on the line and our credibility with federal law enforcement is at stake. Try to follow all guidelines and don’t do anything stupid.’
‘Stupid, sir?’
‘Don’t argue semantics with me, Pierce. You got what you wanted – now go out and do your job.’
Lucinda walked out wanting to hug Holland – heck, she’d hug the police chief, too. But at this moment, more than anything, she’d like to wrap herself around Jake and give him the best thank-you ever. That would have to wait.
She returned to her desk, gathered up everything she’d need for the interview and headed for the high school. She went straight to Rose Johnson’s office in the trailer, where Brittany Schaffer was already waiting for her.
When Lucinda walked into the room, Brittany raised her left wrist and looked down at her watch. ‘My next class starts in forty-five minutes, officer. I need a little time to prepare.’
‘This shouldn’t take too long, Ms Schaffer. I do have some good news.’
Brittany gave her a sideways glance through narrowed eyes. ‘What?’
‘Your alibi checked out.’
‘Of course it did,’ Brittany said, followed by a faux yawn.
‘There was just one little problem. Mr McCallister told me that when he arrived at your home initially, the truck wasn’t there and it still wasn’t there when he left the next day.’
‘Tom is mistaken.’
‘He said he was certain he would have seen it when he pulled up to your house.’
Brittany blew a breath out through extended cheeks. ‘It was parked in the garage.’
‘Actually, he said he parked his vehicle in your garage.’
‘That must have been another time. He’s confused.’
‘No. He was certain. In fact, he said he asked you about it and you told him your truck was in the shop.’
‘You can check with my mechanic. My truck was not in the shop – it is running like a top.’
‘Why would Mr McCallister lie about something like that?’
‘I did not say he was lying. I said he was mistaken.’
‘Cut the crap, Ms Schaffer. Who was driving your car last weekend?’
‘No one.’
‘You are saying that it was at your place the whole time?’
‘I certainly am and it certainly was.’
‘Then why did Mr McCallister say that he had to call a cab to take him back to his car since you couldn’t give him a ride because your truck was in the shop?’
‘A cab? We got a taxi the night before because we’d been drinking and didn’t want to drive.’
‘Yes, he said that, but he also said you called a cab for him in the morning.’
‘Tom had too much to drink. His memory is befuddled.’
‘I doubt Mr McCallister will be pleased to learn you are calling him a liar.’
‘I never called him a liar.’
‘Do you recall a former student named Jimmy Van Dyke?’
Lucinda could have sworn she saw a flicker of panic in Brittany’s eyes and a quickened tempo in her swinging leg before the teacher gave an answer.
‘The name does sound a bit familiar, officer.’
‘How about a current student? David Baynes?’
‘Oh, that’s such a tragedy. He was in my fifth-period class but I didn’t recognize his name at first – not until Ms Johnson pointed out that he was one of my students.’
‘The school year is nearly over and you still are not familiar with the names of the students in your classes?’
‘Listen. There are a lot of periods in a day and a lot of days in a school year and even more names on those classroom rosters. I wish I could say I remember all my students, all the time. But, sadly, I don’t.’ Brittany turned on a plastic smile. ‘And any teacher who tells you otherwise is a liar.’
‘Seems as if there are a lot of liars lurking in your life, Ms Schaffer.’
‘Everybody lies, officer. In your line of work, you should be well aware of that fact.’
Lucinda stared straight into Brittany’s eyes. ‘I am reminded of the frequency of dishonest answers every day, Ms Schaffer.’
Brittany turned away, uncrossed her legs and stared into space. ‘Is that all, officer?’
‘Who are you talking to, Ms Schaffer?’
Brittany jerked her head back to Lucinda. ‘You, of course.’
‘Then perhaps you could address me properly. It’s Lieutenant – Lieutenant Pierce. I told you that the last time we talked. You seem to have forgotten – or is that just your little way of demonstrating your disdain for me?’
‘Really, Lieutenant,’ Brittany said, rising to her feet. ‘I meet a lot of people with your level of self-absorption every day – but most of them are teenagers.’
Lucinda stood and looked down at the shorter woman, laughing long and hard. ‘If you’re trying to amuse me, you are succeeding. If not, you’re even less self-aware than road kill.’
‘How dare you?’
Lucinda tilted her head and smiled.
‘I am so sick of dealing with envious women in positions of power. You’re all the same – you, Ms Johnson, those management-level mothers – you make me sick. You take one look at me and turn green over your own physical inadequacies. I will be reporting you to your superiors.’ Brittany pivoted on her toes and stalke
d out of the office, her heels tapping an angry staccato on the floorboards. She punctuated it all by slamming the door as she stepped outside.
Lucinda was now even more convinced that Brittany Schaffer knew something about the incident at the school. And she strongly suspected it had something to do with Jimmy Van Dyke. Perhaps Jimmy’s parents would know who loaned him the truck. If not, maybe they’d know if he had a relationship with his teacher that was close enough that she would loan him her vehicle over the weekend. The question was: whom should she interview first? Who would be most likely to answer honestly and completely? She needed to know more about Mr and Mrs Van Dyke before she could decide.
FORTY-SIX
Jake wanted to coordinate his efforts with Lucinda, but when he called, he was shuttled straight to voicemail. Rather than work on another case in the pile on his desk, he decided to go to the high school and search the student area of the parking lot for red pick-up trucks.
Looking over the large space, he saw about a dozen scattered throughout the other vehicles. He took them one row at a time, jotting down the make, model and license plate numbers. Then he’d look in the cab and take notes on the contents before moving on to the next truck. The last one in the lot was parked in a far corner, at the greatest distance from the school and with no other cars in the spaces around it.
He was peering into the passenger window when he heard, ‘Hey! Hey! What are you doing? Get away from that truck!’ Jake turned around and saw a shaggy-haired young man in jeans and a T-shirt running in his direction.
‘Sweet-looking ride,’ Jake said. ‘Had to check it out.’
‘Don’t touch it.’
‘What are you doing out of class?’
‘What’s it to you?’ he said.
Jake whipped out his FBI badge. ‘I think you’d better answer the question.’ Jake saw a bob in the teenager’s Adam’s apple as he swallowed his anxiety.
‘Hey, man, I didn’t do anything wrong. Here’s my hall pass,’ he said, holding out a piece of paper. ‘Mr Welch sent me out to get an ink cartridge for the printer.’
‘Mr Welch?’
‘My journalism teacher.’
‘Is this your truck?’
‘Yes. No. Well, it’s my dad’s.’
‘You drive it often?’
‘No. This is the first time. He only let me use today ’cause he’s working on my car.’
Jake ran a hand across the right front fender. ‘You’ve never driven it before?’
‘Oh, man, don’t touch it,’ the boy said, pulling up the tail on his T-shirt and rubbing on the spot touched by Jake. ‘If I bring it back with even a fingerprint on it, he will never let me use it again.’
‘Let me see your driver’s license.’
‘Gee, FBI doing traffic checks?’ he said as he pulled out his wallet.
‘Gerald Fitzgerald Whiting the third,’ Jake read from the card. ‘Well, Gerald—’
‘Fitz. Everybody calls me Fitz. My dad is Gerald.’
‘What were you doing last Sunday morning?’
‘Trying to fake sick so I wouldn’t have to go to church with my folks.’
‘Did it work?’
‘Nah,’ he said, scuffing the toe of his shoe on the tarmac.
‘You sure your parents didn’t fall for it and go to church without you in your mom’s car and you decided to take the pick-up for a spin without them knowing it.’
‘Yes. We did go in my mom’s car – but I was with them.’
‘You slip the keys to a friend to use during the services?’
‘You crazy? My dad would kill me. Wait, are you saying this truck looks like one that was at the school when the explosion went off?’
‘What if I was?’ Jake asked.
‘Well, somebody else has a truck that looks just like this one.’
‘Here at the school?’
‘Yeah. It’s up in the teachers’ parking lot.’
‘Whose truck is it?’
‘Ms Schaffer. I know ’cause I had her for English last year.’
‘So you think Ms Schaffer had something to do with what happened here Sunday morning?’
‘Ms Schaffer?’ Tom said. ‘You gotta be kidding. Have you seen her?’
‘No.’
‘She’s hot. I mean, she’s a very nice-looking lady.’
‘If you don’t think she was up here at the school, why are you pointing a finger at her, Fitz?’
‘Not at her. At her truck. She loans it out to kids all the time.’
‘She loans it to students?’
‘Yeah. You know – her favorites.’
‘What do you mean by “favorites”? The best students?’
Fitz snorted. ‘Not exactly. I mean some of them are dumb as toothpicks.’
‘Do you think there is something going on outside of the classroom, Fitz?’
‘Somethin’. I just don’t know what. Some guys say they did her. But you know how guys are – the ones that say they did a girl are probably the ones who didn’t.’
‘You think others have had a sexual relationship with her?’ Jake asked as a tight ball of fury formed in his chest.
‘You know, there’s rumors,’ Fitz said. ‘I don’t know anything for sure. It could be all talk. Like I said, she’s hot. That makes guys talk – most of it’s just a pile of crap.’
‘Anyone in particular come to mind, Fitz?’
‘No, man. It’s just talk. Really. She’s a nice lady. Listen, I gotta go or Mr Welch is going to be asking questions.’
‘Give me your cell number and home address, and then you can go.’ Jake jotted down the information with his notes on the truck and watched as Fitz backed out of his space and drove out of the parking lot.
Interesting new wrinkle, Jake thought. It will certainly add another layer of suspicion to Lucinda’s concern about Brittany Schaffer. Was she having intimate relations with some of her students? Or was she just playing the flirt with the kids for the ego gratification she received? Is her inappropriate behavior somehow connected to the case?
Or is this whole pick-up connection just one rolling red herring on four wheels? He needed to talk to Lucinda. Maybe she’d cleared Brittany Schaffer already. He punched her name on his phone, listened to one ring and then heard the sound of her voice.
‘Jake? Want to get together for lunch? I’m starved and I can give you an update on my morning’s progress.’
‘Yeah, sounds perfect. Where are you?’
‘I’m just walking out of one of the temporary trailers at the high school. Where are you?’
‘In the student parking lot.’
‘At the high school?’
‘Yeah.’
‘I’ll be back there in a flash. I’m driving.’
‘Of course you are,’ Jake said. Sometimes she’s just so predictable.
FORTY-SEVEN
Over lunch, Jake and Lucinda established their priorities: find Jimmy Van Dyke and bring him in for an interview; find out more about Brittany Schaffer’s relationships with students; and then confront the English teacher with the information they’d gathered.
They drove into a neat neighborhood of small, well-tended 1940s-era bungalows and pulled up in front of a tidy house with a front yard nearly filled with flowerbeds. Early-blooming daffodils and tulips added cheerful color; myriads of fresh green sprouts erupting from the ground promised more.
Ringing the doorbell, Jake and Lucinda were surprised when the door was answered by a dark-skinned, middle-aged woman with traces of a Caribbean lilt in her voice. They presented their badges and Lucinda said, ‘We would like to speak with Jimmy Van Dyke.’
‘My son is not here,’ the woman said.
‘Do you know where he is?’ Lucinda asked.
‘He’s nineteen years old. What do you think?’ the woman replied with a chuckle.
‘Mrs Van Dyke?’ Jake asked.
‘Yes, sah, I’m Charlotte Van Dyke.’
‘May we come in and talk to you for a
bit?’
‘Of course,’ she said, pushing open the screen door.
She led them into her living room, where Jake and Lucinda sat down on a dark brown sofa. Mrs Van Dyke chose a tan upholstered chair perpendicular to them.
‘Just before you got here, I started the coffee pot. Would you like to have a cup with me?’
‘Yes, ma’am,’ Lucinda said, ‘that would be very nice.’
‘I’ll be right back then.’
While she was gone, Lucinda looked around the room. Vivid Caribbean paintings on the walls, multicolored books lined up on shelves and an array of school photos marching across the mantelpiece provided a bright contrast to the neutral tones of the furniture. Not a speck of dust anywhere and every single item in the room seemed to be exactly where it was supposed to be – maybe to an obsessive degree.
Charlotte walked through the archway carrying a large wooden tray with a carafe, sugar bowl, creamer, teaspoons and three cups. Jake jumped up, relieved her of her burden and placed it down on the table.
After pouring coffee for each of them and waiting until Jake and Lucinda had settled back into the sofa, Charlotte said, ‘Now, how can I help you?’
‘We accept your word that you do not know where your son is right now, Mrs Van Dyke, but do you know where he was Sunday morning?’ Lucinda asked.
Charlotte sucked in a quavering breath. ‘Is this about the explosion at the high school? Please tell me you don’t think Jimmy had anything to do with that.’
‘Do you know where he was Sunday morning?’ Lucinda repeated.
Charlotte sighed. ‘No, ma’am. He left here very early that morning before I even got out of bed.’
‘Did he leave the house in his car?’
‘No,’ Charlotte said, shaking her head. ‘He left in that red pick-up truck that he came home in Saturday night.’
Jake and Lucinda exchanged a glance. Jake asked, ‘Whose truck was that?’
‘I’m not so sure,’ Charlotte said. ‘I asked but all he said was that it belonged to a friend. I told him I didn’t think any of his friends could afford a truck like that. He just snapped back that he had more friends than I knew about.’
‘What about Jimmy’s dad? Are they close?’
Charlotte rose up and walked toward the hallway. ‘Just a minute,’ she said, extending an index finger in the air. She returned with the portrait of a couple – a younger version of her and, by her side, a handsome white man in uniform. ‘This is Jimmy’s daddy,’ she said, handing the framed photograph to the investigators.
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