So why hadn’t the bracelet shown up in Miss Remington’s personal effects? If the case had been solved, her parents would have received all of her things, but since the case never closed, the item should have been in the bags of evidence. But he hadn’t seen it.
“Do you mind if I keep these photographs, Claude? There might be something here that could help the investigation.”
Claudia shrugged. “I don’t care.”
He excused himself, glanced at Georgie, and pointed to Claudia over her head. Georgie nodded, thankfully understanding that he was asking her to take care of the increasingly intoxicated ex-cheerleader.
Grabbing his phone from his pocket, he dialed Vic. They may have just gotten a viable lead.
Twelve
There are times, though they may be few and far between, when all of the elements of a person’s life come together and form that one perfect moment. It’s surreal and so unimaginably sad that our family moment has come at this time.
My mother’s hand is holding mine, but I know my dad has taken her in his arms. He holds her, and they weep together. I am back suddenly to the nightly prayers that stopped before I was eight. Those times when I cuddled between them and felt the hand of God.
I experience that now. The hand of God. I think I do. And then my guilty heart shoves the hand away, and my mind replays the nights in the arms of the man who doesn’t belong to me. The father of my child—the poor baby who will never draw a sweet, innocent breath.
I want to ask for Pastor King to come back to me. To hold my hand and tell me that God loves me, that He forgives me in spite of all my sins. I am so sorry. So sorry. If I could take it all back, I would. I would leave married men to their wives and not glory in the attention I receive from men of all ages, backgrounds, races, and marital statuses.
“Claudia,” Pastor King says, his tone harsher than I’ve ever heard, “I can’t stay in here with this man. Let’s go.”
My mother’s gasp echoes off the walls. “Not now, Pastor, please.”
“For God’s sake,” my father says. “It ended twelve years ago. Aren’t preachers supposed to turn the other cheek?”
“You’re an evil man,” Pastor responds. “When you die, the devils will rejoice to have you in their grasp.”
“Daddy”—Claudia’s voice shakes with tears—“why are you speaking to Mr. and Mrs. Remington this way?”
The silence that follows seems to linger forever. But I’ve lost all sense of time, so I can’t be certain. Finally, Pastor speaks, and when he does, his tone is once more the gentle, kind shepherd’s voice. “Claudia, let’s leave here and let the Remingtons be alone with their daughter.”
“No!” My heart breaks at her loyalty to me. “I won’t leave her.”
“It’s okay,” my mother says. “She can stay.” She hesitates, then she speaks in an even, controlled tone. “But please, I think it’s best if you go.”
“Not without my daughter.”
“Daddy!” Claudia cries.
He releases a breath. “All right, sweetheart. I’ll go.”
His steps are heavy as he walks away. Heavier than anything I’ve heard before. Almost as though someone is beating a bass drum in my ear, amplified by my impending death.
“I’m so sorry,” Claudia whispers. “I’ve never seen him act like that.”
“Don’t judge him too harshly, Claudia,” my mother says. “People who have suffered great loss tend to lash out in moments of crisis.”
Poor Pastor King. He’s never given up the pain of that time.
O Death, this is your sting. Grave … your victory.
Victor
At first, the call had just ticked him off. He figured Casio was trying to rub his nose in the fact that Claudia was out drinking with her high school chums. But as he calmed himself down, he realized Casio wasn’t putting the moves on Claudia. In fact, he was doing his best to keep her from doing something stupid. And Vic actually owed him for that.
They met at Vic’s house. With Emmy and Claudia gone, there was no point in hiding the investigation. Vic had decided to bring all the evidence and files from the office, and boxes now covered the dining room floor and table.
Casio rummaged through the evidence box—not that there was much to go on. Clothing, a watch, earrings, a necklace. All the contents of her handbag were still in evidence, but there was no bracelet. He dropped into a kitchen chair, shaking his head. “It’s not here. If she’d been wearing it when she got to the ER, they would have removed it and stashed it with the rest of the evidence. She was DOA. They didn’t even work on her. Nurses called the doc and the doc declared her dead.”
Vic stared at the photograph once more. The sight of Claudia so carefree and happy sent a wave of longing through him. She hadn’t been much older than this when they started dating. He was determined to find that girl again. For her sake, for Emmy’s sake.
He shoved away the emotions and glanced up at Casio. “And you’re sure this is the same night? No way it was a different game?”
“Nope. This was the only game we played against the Panthers that year.”
“Could the film be older than Claudia thinks? Maybe this was the year before the shooting?”
Again, Casio shook his head. “Miss Remington wasn’t coaching cheerleaders the year before. Look, face it. That picture was taken after the game, when we were about to head home. Miss Remington had the bracelet on.”
If that were the case, there was no doubt that she had either lost the bracelet between the time this photo was taken and two hours later when the gunman boarded the bus, or someone snatched it from her wrist after she was on the floor. It didn’t make sense that Newman had done it. He freely admitted giving the gift to Miss Remington. That didn’t mean he hadn’t paid someone to commit the killing. But he seemed sincere enough in his admission that he’d cared for her. Maybe too sincere?
He dropped to the chair opposite Casio. “All right, let’s think about who could have taken the bracelet.”
“If it didn’t fall off.”
“It’s a long shot, but it could have happened. So, we need to talk to the cleanup crew from the bus.”
Casio made a few scratches in his notebook. “This might not be comfortable for you, but Claudia never left Miss Remington’s side. So we need to ask her about the bracelet too.”
The thought of actually confronting Claudia about the bracelet tightened Vic’s gut. He had promised her she wouldn’t have to answer any more questions. “I don’t think she’ll discuss it. She left me because she can’t handle us opening up the investigation.” He breathed out heavily. “Besides, I promised her I wouldn’t need to interview her.”
“Kind of unrealistic, don’t you think? The people who were on the bus that night were Claudia, me, Georgie Newman—she gave Miss Remington CPR at some point before the ambulance arrived. Let’s see … the bus driver, but he was unconscious the whole time. Claudia’s dad showed up, he left for a few minutes when Miss Remington’s parents arrived, but came back and stayed there until the paramedics arrived, and, like I said, Miss Remington’s parents. And that’s it—except for my dad. Once the paramedics arrived, everyone was asked to leave, even her parents.”
“Okay, so list anyone on the bus between the time the shooter showed up until Miss Remington ended up in the morgue.”
Casio nodded. “Top of the list. Claudia …”
Vic had a feeling the way he kept bringing her up that Casio was testing him. To what end, he wasn’t sure. But he had no choice but to agree. Everyone had to be questioned. Even Claude. She was going to hate him.
But he had a job to do. Vic motioned to the notebook. “Okay, top of the list: Claudia. You’re next.”
Casio nodded and wrote down his own name on the list of those who could have taken the bracelet. “Georgie Newman,” he said, “which makes sense if Principal Newman is involved.”
It was a long shot, but Vic nodded. “So at what point did Pastor King show up and the
other kids get off the bus?”
“It seemed like forever, but was actually just a few minutes.”
“How many?”
Casio shrugged. “Five, maybe?”
“Okay, so in that five minutes, Claudia was lying in Miss Remington’s blood, Georgie Newman performed CPR, and you did what?”
“At first, I had other kids forcing me down, putting pressure on my bullet wound, but the adults started showing up and all the kids except for me, Georgie Newman, and Claude got off the bus. Their statements are already in the original police report.”
“Okay. So the next person in contact with Miss Remington after Georgie was …”
“Pastor King. He sat on one side of her and Claude was on the other.”
“How long?”
“Another five minutes maybe?” He frowned in thought. “Could have been a little longer. I don’t know for sure. Mostly I was hearing it happen.”
“Then who came in?”
He closed his eyes as though trying to see it all happen. “Okay, Pastor King showed up, and the kids were told to leave. I stayed on the bus because I was injured and no one wanted to move me in case it was worse than it looked.”
“So Pastor King left you by yourself while he tended to the teacher?”
“No, come to think of it, there was someone with me.”
“Can you remember who?”
“A girl.” He snapped. “It was Georgie. How could I have forgotten that—especially after last night at the bar? She was taking a first-aid class, and Claudia told the pastor she should stay in case they needed someone to do CPR on Miss Remington again. I remember Georgie saying she’d look after me, and if BJ needed her, she’d be close by. So Pastor let her stay with me.”
“Okay, so Georgie Newman stayed on board the entire time.”
“Yes.”
“So between ten and twelve minutes have passed between the time the shooter left and Miss Remington’s parents showed up.”
“Just Mrs. Remington.”
“I thought you said her parents were there.”
“Yes, but Mrs. Remington arrived a few minutes before her husband.”
Why would they have come separately? Vic wrote a note to himself.
“We have a list of the paramedics on call that night as well as nurses in the ER when she arrived, the doctor who called her death, and the forensic pathologist after they took her to the morgue. We’ll need to question all of them and show them that photograph of Miss Remington and Claudia with the bracelet. We’ll start with the paramedics, then move to the nurses in the ER—if we can find them, and we should find the medical examiner from the case.”
“What about Georgie and Claudia? Don’t you think we should go sequentially? They were close to Miss Remington before the paramedics arrived, and for that matter, what about Pastor King and the Remingtons?”
Casio was most likely correct, but for now, he didn’t want his first meeting with his wife in a week to be official business. “We can come back to them. After ten years, does it really matter? If we question the medical staff first and someone saw the bracelet, then there’s no reason to barge in on her grieving folks or anyone else.”
“You mean Claudia.”
“I don’t want to upset her unnecessarily.”
Casio shrugged. “Whatever you say. Want to do this together or separately?”
“What are you thinking?”
“Good cop, bad cop works pretty well.”
“On the other hand, we could cover more territory if we split the list.”
“You’re in charge.” Casio gave him that grin that Vic never quite believed.
Vic rolled his eyes. “Fine. Good cop, bad cop.”
“Which one of us is the bad cop?” That grin again.
Casio
Casio hated the smell of hospitals. The sterile, glossy surfaces, like everything was clean and pretty. That might fool most people, but he knew what was hiding beneath all that antiseptic—pain, blood, disease, people in beds dying of all kinds of horrible things. And below their feet, the place those people went after the monitor screeched that flat line—the morgue. He hadn’t been to a hospital more than twice since the shooting, and only in the line of duty. He wouldn’t be here now if he’d had much of a choice.
But both of the paramedics from ten years ago were now employees at St. John’s, and no way was he going to tell Campbell that he was too much of a pansy to walk into a hospital without feeling the blood rush to his head and his arm start to ache all over again.
His legs turned weak as his soft soles squeaked along the waxed floor. The hospital directory personnel had sent them up to the eighth floor, maternity ward. Amy Cole. She had been the first paramedic through the door, and though she couldn’t have been more than twenty-two or twenty-three at the time—around Miss Remington’s age—she seemed to be leading the team.
Casio remembered the young African American man who knelt over him, asking his name, starting an IV. “How’s Miss Remington?” he’d said, barely recognizing the sound of his own hollow voice.
“Don’t you worry none,” the paramedic had told him. “Amy’s a firecracker. She’s the best of the best. Your teacher’s in good hands with her.”
But she hadn’t been. He could still remember Amy’s voice. “There’s nothing we can do.” Her voice had broken around her words.
“Miss Cole?” Vic spoke to the girl behind the desk, pulling Casio from his thoughts.
The pretty redhead looked up from the computer. She looked at Vic, then settled her focus on Casio.
“She’s with a patient.”
Casio grinned. “Thanks. I’ll wait.”
Victor fished out a business card. “She’s expecting us. Will you please page her?”
The cutesy nurse’s demeanor went all serious. “I’ll call her, Mr. Campbell.”
Casio flashed his shield. If Vic was going pro on the poor little candy striper, he might as well get some brownie points out of the deal too—girls loved cops. All those cop shows on TV were very good for his sex appeal.
But this one must not have gotten the memo. The badge had the opposite effect, and her face wiped of color in three seconds flat, leaving only a smattering of freckles on a vampire-white face. Sort of made him wonder if she had something to hide. Like swiping drugs from the locked closet.
She slid a cell phone from her pocket and pressed the buttons. “Amy, the ADA and a cop are here to see you.”
Pause.
“Okay.”
She looked up at Vic. “She says she’ll be out when she’s finished with her patient. Fourteen-year-old kid in labor six weeks early. Scared to death.” She gave a heavy sigh. “I feel so sorry for her. I mean, no mama to hold her hand, and who knows who the baby’s daddy is.” She shook her head. “So sad.”
“Is she keeping the baby?” Campbell asked, his voice smooth with sympathy. His eyes were so earnest it was hard not to believe he truly cared. But Casio knew the act came with the job, though why Vic was wasting it here, he couldn’t guess.
The redhead nodded. “That’s the most tragic part of the whole thing. She’s determined to keep it.”
“You say she has no mother?”
The nurse shrugged. “Not that we’ve seen. But a mother could be working or something. The girl came in just two hours ago. Amy’s been with her ever since.”
Her cell phone buzzed. “Excuse me.” She answered and flashed a glance to Casio and the ADA.
“Okay. I’ll be there in a sec.” The candy striper stood and punched a button on the computer, presumably locking them out in case they wanted to go snooping. “I’m going to sit with the patient while Amy talks to you guys.” She gave Casio a shy smile as she passed. Casio grinned as he watched her go. So she wasn’t immune after all.
“A little young, don’t you think?” Vic said.
“Probably, but no harm in looking.”
They waited another couple of minutes until a medium-build, dark-haired wom
an in scrubs strode down the hall. “Amy Cole?” Vic said, stepping forward.
“Yes.” She extended her hand. “What can I do for you, Mr. Campbell?”
“Is there someplace we can talk?”
“I have a patient room open at the end of the hall,” she said. “We can go in there.”
Casio hated to admit it, but the sound of her voice slammed him back in time to the bus. He was lying on the floor, feeling the ridges of the aisle floor through his football jersey, smelling the feet of a thousand football players tromping up and down the aisle. His blood was staining the ground and Miss Remington was dying just a few feet away. There was nothing he could do to save her. Nothing he did that made any difference.
“Hightower!” Vic’s voice brought him back to the sterile hallway. By the ADA’s tone, it was pretty obvious this wasn’t the first time he’d said his name.
“Yeah?”
“Do you need to go get some air?”
“I’m good. Let’s follow the pretty nurse to the end of the hall.”
“Fine.” He dropped his volume and leaned closer so that only Casio could hear his words. “But if you space out again, this is the last of the interviews you get to come along.”
“Oh, gee, Mom, I promise I won’t ask for anything else.”
Vic scowled at him as they entered the room behind the nurse. “Just take it easy and don’t blow this.”
The nurse walked to the window and turned, folding her arms over her chest. “Now, what can I do for you two?”
“We’re investigating the murder of BJ Remington ten years ago. You were on call that night.”
“Yeah,” she said, shaking her head. “That was horrible.”
“I need you to identify a bracelet the victim was wearing earlier that evening.”
Now that Casio heard the words spoken aloud, he could see why Miss Cole’s mouth dropped open. “You’re kidding, right? That was ten years ago. I was trying to save that woman’s life. The last thing on my mind was her taste in jewelry.”
“I understand it might be difficult to remember.”
She gave him an incredulous look. “Try impossible, Mr. Campbell.”
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