“Thanks, Isobel.”
Claudia pressed the button to disconnect her call. Detecting movement ahead of her, she looked up. Tara stood in the doorway of the salon. As they made eye contact, the stylist walked toward the Tahoe. Claudia pressed the window button and the glass lowered.
“You okay, Claude?”
Claudia gripped the bag tight in her hand. “Just a little panic attack. Sorry I freaked out. I’m better now.”
“You wanna come in? My one-thirty cancelled on me. So I won’t have to squeeze you in after all.”
It was rare that she didn’t feel like spending a couple of hours under Tara’s capable care, but now all she wanted to do was find Vic and convince him he didn’t need to do this. “I don’t know.”
“Come on, girl. You can use the pampering and I can use the money.”
She glanced at her watch. “I’ll need to pick up Emmy at three o’clock.”
Tara grinned. “Then we best get started. Time’s ticking away.”
Time was definitely ticking away. Tara had no idea how right she was about that. It seemed like a countdown had begun the day BJ was murdered. Every day Claudia felt like she was another hour, minute, second closer to following in her teacher’s footsteps. She couldn’t remember the last time she awoke and didn’t wonder, “Will I die today?”
Victor
Vic would have much rather had lunch with Claudia than his current lunch partner, but since he was driving and Casio had heard him get turned down for lunch, the only polite thing to do was to invite the officer to join him.
He’d decided to turn it into a working lunch, so he grabbed his briefcase, notepad, and some of the notes from the senior Officer Hightower—Casio’s dad. The little Mexican place served the best, most authentic pork tamales and chili rellenos he’d ever had. A semi-regular customer, he had a favorite quiet booth in the corner and had called ahead to ask if it was empty.
“What’d you think of Blake’s answers?”
Vic shrugged. “Nothing in his testimony seemed deceitful to me.” He sipped a sweet tea, looking at Casio over the rim. “He sure was holding a grudge against you, though.” He supposed it would be difficult to stand in a garage, dirt and oil under your nails, knowing you were capable of so much more. Not that there was anything wrong with being a mechanic, but Blake could have been a star, apparently. Instead, he was spending his life working for his brother.
Casio grinned. “I took his girl and got the scholarships he was competing for. I guess he had reason back then to resent me.”
Ignoring the comment about stealing Claudia from Blake and the self-satisfied smirk on Casio’s face, Vic went over Blake’s answers from his notepad. “He admitted to getting upset over the semester grade that kept him from playing that night. He even admitted that he had sort of threatened his teacher.”
Lunch came and Casio put on his best Casanova smile, charming the little senorita. He stretched his neck to watch her sashay back to the front of the restaurant. “A little beauty, isn’t she?” Casio asked, turning back around.
“Give it a rest, Hightower. Don’t you think you should sort out your current woman problems before you get the ball rolling on ruining another woman’s life?”
Anger flashed in the officer’s eyes. “I thought we agreed to keep Harper and my case out of this.”
Victor picked up his fork. “Just remember, we’re not friends. I only let you in on this case because you bribed your way in, and if any real evidence presents itself proving Miss Abbott’s statement against you, I’ll toss you off the case and draw up charges against you in a split second.”
“You’re not going to get that evidence, Campbell. Harper loves me. It’s only a matter of time before I win her back. She’s not going to testify.”
Vic rolled his eyes. What could he possibly say to this idiot to convince him that he was the lowest piece of garbage on the planet? He should never have agreed to their little partnership in the first place. But the fact was that he had. And BJ Remington’s pregnancy revelation is what justified the reopening of the investigation. Otherwise it would have been viewed as a waste of taxpayer money, so he owed Casio.
He glanced at his watch. “We best hurry and eat. I have another appointment this afternoon.”
Casio’s eyebrows rose as he lifted his fork and tackled a stuffed burrito. “About our case?”
Vic nodded. “The high school principal.”
“Newman?” Casio gave a side grin. “He’s still the principal?”
“Yep. I want to talk to him about the kids on the list I showed you. And about the teacher. There’s nothing in the report from ten years ago that shows he was even interviewed, which I found a little odd.”
“Why would he have been? The guy had nothing to do with anything. He wasn’t on the bus or even at the game.”
“Neither was the killer, most likely.”
“You think Newman could be the killer?” Casio chuckled. “Wait until you see him.”
Vic sighed. “The point is that as the guy in charge at the high school, he would know everyone who might have had a grudge against Miss Remington. He might know if she was dating or gay.”
Casio snorted. “She wasn’t gay.”
“And you know this how?”
Casio shrugged and scowled. “I don’t figure she was.”
“Exactly. Maybe it was a hate crime.” That was reaching, most likely, but he was trying to establish the fact that every avenue should have been explored ten years ago and that this case was given mediocre attention at best. He didn’t understand why.
“She was ten weeks pregnant, though.”
“Okay. The point is, Newman might have information that comes to a person who is with someone every day, like he was with Miss Remington.”
“Newman was always a nerdy guy. Always trying to be cool, I guess.”
Vic’s curiosity flared. “How so?”
“He used to try to get us to talk about our dates. Never really busted anyone on the team if we got caught with a girl in places we weren’t supposed to be. Like closets or bleachers or making out in the car in the parking lot. Kinda creeped us out.” He frowned a little. “Should I come with, or are you too filled with indignation to walk around with the likes of me?”
“Get over it.” Vic scowled across the table. “Whatever I think of you, I agreed to your involvement on the case, so if you want to come with me, I’m not going to stop you.”
Vic wasn’t sure if having Casio there would make things better or worse. The principal might not be inclined to open up if what Casio just said were true. On the other hand, if he still wanted to be in the cool crowd, it might be an asset for Casio to come along.
“Fine. I’m coming then.” He swallowed down a bite. “It might be fun to go back to the old stomping ground again.”
“Okay, but I do the talking, you hear?”
“Don’t talk to me like I’m a lackey, Campbell. You might be a prosecutor, but I’m a cop. I get people to confess for a living, remember?”
“Yeah, well, I’d rather not muscle a confession out of him. Got it?”
“I’ll keep quiet as long as you’re getting results. But I’m not going to sit back and listen to him jerk you around if it seems like he might know something about the killer.” Casio pointed his fork at Vic, his gaze narrowed. “I have a lot at stake with this case. It’s been sitting on a shelf for all the adult years of my life, just doing nothing but taunting me. Driving me crazy that some guy could kill a cool chick like that and just walk away from it.” He reached forward and grabbed a chip from the basket. “It’s time we get him and give him the chair for what he did. Especially now that I know Miss Remington was knocked up.”
Vic bristled a little at Casio’s crudity, but he had to admit, the guy had a point. He did have a stake in the results of this case—as much as Claudia—and it was also true that the killer had taken more than one life that day. Whether he knew it or not. Although Vic’s best guess was th
at the killer had definitely known about the baby. It was time for this guy to come to justice. And in doing so, maybe Casio and Claudia could find a way to put those demons behind them.
Eight
Why won’t I die? Is this part of my penance? Going over the damage I’ve done?
“When is the train going to be done?” I hear Claudia’s tearful query, and inside, I second the question.
Pastor’s gentle voice answers. “It’s only been a few minutes. It’s a long train.”
“I wish it would hurry,” she whispers back.
“Do you want to go outside with the other kids?”
“I have to stay here with her. She needs me, Daddy.”
“BJ will understand, Claude.”
He’s right, I want to say. Please, Claude, leave this bus. Get out of the blood. Live and breathe and don’t grieve for me. I’m not worth it.
But I know Claudia’s stubborn loyalty to me. The day I found out I was pregnant, she found me crying after school in my classroom.
She refused to go anywhere until I broke down and shared my situation with her. All of it—except the name of the father. And she was okay with that. “We’ll get through this together, Beej,” she said. Then she smiled. “Just think, I get to be an aunt after all.” And we had truly become closer than sisters.
I think in that moment, I knew we’d be friends for life. How could we have possibly known how short life could truly be?
Victor
Principal Newman was about as stereotypically nerdy a guy as Vic had ever seen. He fidgeted in his enormous brown leather chair, his hands resting on the arms of it as he clearly tried to look nonchalant. “So they’re finally reopening BJ Remington’s case?” He nodded his half-bald head. “It’s about time you guys tried to get her some justice.”
“I agree.” Vic gave him a tight smile and chose to let the veiled criticism pass. “We’ve been going through files and old interviews and the thing that surprised us was that you were never interviewed.”
The little man swallowed hard. “Why would they interview me? I certainly had nothing to do with her death.”
Vic leaned forward. “We aren’t implying you did.”
Newman’s face slipped of color. Either the man was guilty, or he was afraid his words had implicated him. Some people watched too many legal dramas on TV. He cleared his throat. “What do you want to know?”
Casio shoved an open file across the table. “This is a list of the kids on the bus. What do you know about Blake Simpson’s relationship with Miss Remington?”
Near-tangible relief passed over Newman’s face. “You want to know about Blake?”
“That’s right.”
Victor allowed him the momentary relief before they asked him about his own relationship with the teacher. That would come soon enough.
Newman shoved out his chest with self-importance. He looked ridiculous in the chair that nearly swallowed him alive. “Blake Simpson was a troubled kid. He came from a divorced home. His father moved out of the home when Blake was about twelve. He was the janitor here, actually.”
“He was?”
Mr. Newman nodded. “We almost didn’t hire him, but he turned out to be the best janitor this place ever had.”
“That’s not in the files.” Vic scratched the information onto his notepad.
“He worked at the school until two years ago when the emphysema got the better of him. He had to stop working around the chemicals and dust.”
“So what if his parents were divorced?” Casio’s voice edged with annoyance. “Lots of kids come from divorced homes. Sometimes it’s better if parents get divorced than fight in front of the kids all the time.”
“I probably shouldn’t have combined a rough upbringing and the divorce, but Blake had a chip on his shoulder bigger than Texas.”
“Big deal. A lot of us did back then.”
Mr. Newman’s eyebrows rose. “You don’t think his rough background is relevant to his anger issues?”
“I don’t remember Blake being that angry, Mr. Newman.” Casio crossed his ankle over his knee. “As a matter of fact, I stole his girl and he never even confronted me.”
“Miss King?” Newman nodded as though remembering back to the incident ten years ago. “I wondered why one day she was kissing him in the hall and the next I caught the two of you in the parking lot fogging up the windows.”
Victor bristled at the grin the two of them shared at his wife’s expense. “Can we get back to the topic of Blake Simpson and his relationship with BJ Remington?”
“Of course,” the principal said, once more taking on a professional demeanor.
“What about Miss Remington and Blake? Tell us about their relationship those last few weeks before she was murdered.”
“Do you think Blake killed BJ?” Was it Vic’s imagination or did the principal’s small hands shake? Nerves?
Casio must have noticed the same thing. “Look,” he said, “we know you had the hots for her. Shoot, you wouldn’t have been male and not have had the hots for her. We don’t care about that.”
“What do you mean I had the …”
“Oh sure, Claudia told me way back then.” Casio smirked. “Miss Remington and Claudia were close friends.”
Vic’s voice was tense as he interjected. “Stop asking questions and answer the one we asked. What do you know about Blake and Miss Remington?”
Sitting forward, Newman pinched the bridge of his nose, elbows resting on the desk. He released a breath and looked up. “There was more to his anger at BJ than just the grade. Blake found out BJ was seeing someone.”
“Why would a student care whether or not a teacher had a date?” Vic asked. “Unless Blake and BJ were also seeing each other?”
Newman’s eyebrows rose. “No, of course not. BJ wouldn’t date a student.”
Vic leaned back a little and scrutinized the principal. “Then why did Blake care?”
A shrug lifted the thin shoulders. “I guess he had a crush. He started mouthing off to her in class. Just punk kid stuff to the average bystander, but BJ felt very threatened by it. She came to me when he started using profanities to describe her—if you know what I mean.”
“What did you do?”
“I called him into my office, told him he couldn’t speak to her that way. And I’d be calling his mother if he did it again.”
“And?”
The principal gave a rueful smile that showed off a set of teeth in sore need of a dentist. “He basically told me where to go and left my office. I was about to call his mother, and the next day midterms were posted.”
“So that’s why Miss Remington failed him.” Casio shook his head. “That—”
“Watch it, Hightower.”
“Don’t you see what she did?” Casio stared sideways at Victor, his eyes narrowed, face reddening. “She dummied his grades to get him put on academic probation just because he wouldn’t back down.”
Victor looked to the principal for confirmation. “Is that what happened?”
He shrugged, then nodded. “I don’t have proof that BJ did such a thing. But I can say that during his high school career, Blake never made below a C in any class but that one. I conferenced with BJ about it. She showed me the grades—and it was only that one paper, but his tardiness and lack of participation lowered his grade enough to keep him from playing. That semester, he just wasn’t trying hard enough.” Newman leaned back in his chair for a moment. “I suspected something was bothering him, but he wasn’t the kind of boy to open up. It’s a shame, really. With just a little bit of effort, he could have gotten a scholarship to a university anyway. Football or no football.”
“What does that mean exactly, that he made minimum grades?”
Newman leaned forward. “Athletes are required to have a C average. First offense puts them on academic probation until they get their grade back up—they can’t play football when they’re on probation. The problem with Blake being off the team at that time
was that he missed out on the game when recruiters from three major colleges were scouting. We were going into the championships, and Blake and Casio were featured in high school sports highlights on the news almost every Friday all season.” His eyes drifted upward as though in memory. “That was an exciting time. The town was behind our boys one hundred percent.”
Casio nodded. “We played from our guts that night and slaughtered the other team, even without Blake. I got offered two scholarships from two colleges—the third guy was mainly there for Blake.”
Newman continued, “Blake took it hard. He barely came to school the rest of the year. I felt sorry for him for losing those scholarships, so I made allowances and helped him more than I should have probably. I tried to encourage him to try for other scholarships, but he lost heart for it after that.”
“This is a fascinating sob story.” Casio scowled. “But he didn’t exactly lose those scholarships. Just the opportunity to be offered them.”
Vic interrupted, “If he’d been able to play, it could have gone either way.”
Casio glared. “We won the game that night, even without him. I didn’t get those scholarships by default, Campbell, so stop implying I somehow didn’t deserve them.” He looked back at the principal, then frowned. “But I guess Blake needed the college money more than I did, considering I still got to go to college, even when I couldn’t play any more football and after the scholarships were withdrawn because of my injuries. But Blake never did go.”
Empathy. Maybe there was hope for Casio after all.
“Are we finished here?” the principal asked. “It’s just about time for the bell to ring. I need to be in the hall.”
“Just one more thing, Mr. Newman.”
“Yes?”
“What is your response to Casio saying everyone knew you had a romantic interest in BJ?”
His face flushed. “That’s just ridiculous.” His voice had risen in pitch and was just a little too intense to be believed.
“Bull.” Once again, Casio had inserted himself into the interview. “Miss Remington showed Claudia the bracelet you gave her. It was a Celtic love knot. I’m guessing she meant a lot more to you than you did to her.”
The Crossing Page 9