“Can you be sure about that?” Veronica asked, thinking about the image she’d seen, of the girl by the river. She wasn’t sure what it meant. Was it what could have happened to Angie? Except the girl wasn’t Angie. Didn’t look like her at all. Veronica didn’t want to jump to any conclusions, but she was afraid that maybe something like what had happened to Angie had happened before.
“Grant’s father already pulled him out of Saint Pat’s,” Angie said. “Nobody else is going to do anything.”
~~~
After lunch Angie jogged back upstairs and Melanie and Veronica went out to the porch to sit on the swing.
“Nothing, huh?” Mel said.
“Well, she doesn’t want to talk about it,” Veronica said. “But I did… get something.”
“Really? What?” Melanie asked, sitting straighter.
Veronica frowned. She had to just get used to the insight. She knew she did. But she still hated talking about it. “I saw a girl by the river. A different girl. I think she drowned.”
“No!”
Veronica shrugged. “I don’t know what it means.” Okay, she’d told Melanie about it. And what good did it do, anyway? Just a scary image. They should just focus on what they knew. “Angie says the boy’s father pulled him out of school.”
“Yeah,” Melanie said. “I talked to the principal yesterday. I guess the kid was already having a lot of problems. The dad pulled him out at the beginning of last week. He shouldn’t have even been at that dance, but the teachers didn’t know he wasn’t a student anymore.”
“Maybe the principal can ask around. Maybe figure out who this boy’s friends were.”
Melanie nodded. “I just wish Angie’d talk to me.”
Veronica shook her head. “You know how kids are at that age. Us and them—the kids versus the grownups. And even if she wanted to tell you, she’d probably get flack for it at school from other kids, for being a rat.”
“Is that how it is?” Melanie asked, appalled.
“Sometimes,” Veronica said. “Not always. I’m actually surprised at how kind the kids can be to each other—you know, I didn’t have the best time in high school, and I saw a lot of people as enemies. It seemed like a very hard place to navigate for me. But now I have students sometimes… I think if I’d known them in high school they’d have been these terrible, frightening, god-like beings and I would have hated them. But now, when I talk to them—well, they’re just kids. Which tells me I can’t see everything anymore, not in the same way anyway.”
“Or that you didn’t exactly see things clearly when you were in high school,” Melanie said.
“Yeah, I’m sure that’s true. I probably judged a lot of people the way I was sure they were judging me. But I have some real memories of bad—interactions, I guess you might say. I didn’t have many friends.”
“You were a misfit in high school,” said Melanie.
“You know that. Awkward goth kid.”
“Not surprising at all, when you think about it.”
“Thanks,” said Veronica. “Anyway, the point is, sometimes kids are just kids, and they get along pretty well and they aren’t terrible to each other. And sometimes, they’re awful. They have unwritten rules and it can be hell negotiating them. You remember high school, Melanie.”
“Middle school was worse!”
Veronica laughed. “Oh yeah, a lot of kids just lose all sanity in middle school. They learn to be more subtle as they go along.”
Melanie sighed. “So what do I do now?”
“Well, I had an idea.”
“Do tell.”
“First of all, tomorrow when you’re at work, do you think you could do some snooping? I mean, we could probably search online to see if any girls drowned in that river, but I bet it would be a lot clearer if you could find out if there were any legal cases with the boy’s name on them.”
“Let’s do both,” Melanie said. Then she eyed Veronica, toying with the cuff of her shirt.
“What?” Veronica prompted.
“Okay,” Melanie said, “I had an idea. Hear me out.”
“Uh… okay…”
“Well, what would be really great, is if you could go to Saint Patrick’s.”
“Me?”
“Yeah,” Melanie said. “I mean, you saw this—this girl, in Angie’s room, right?”
Veronica groaned and leaned her head back.
“—And so I thought, hey, I wonder what V might see if she went to Saint Pat’s? I mean, those little turds have been running around that school for months, right?”
Veronica closed her eyes. Did she have to do this? Really?
“V, I know you’re uncomfortable with all this, but this is Angie we’re talking about. These shits almost killed her—”
“I know,” Veronica said. “I could go to Angie’s school one day this week.” She considered it for a moment. She could see herself standing in a classroom, a vision taking her over—her cheeks flushed. How awful would that be? But Mel was right. Angie needed her help—seeing that drowned girl couldn’t be a good sign. And she knew how she could do it, too, and keep from raising questions about what she was doing there. “I’m still doing my BTSA training and my mentor teacher has often said I should request a professional day to go and observe other French teachers at other schools.”
Melanie’s eyes widened. “You really are sneaky.”
“I try. So I can go and hang out in Angie’s French class, maybe take in a few more besides, and see what jumps out at me.” Veronica smiled to hide the way her insides felt like they might ooze out of her.
“I like it.”
“Good,” said Veronica. “So how about we go back inside and do some web searches on drownings in the Placerville area?”
~~~
It was surprisingly hard to find anything specific about drownings online. Several sites devoted to rafting or hiking by the river made allusions to them in terms of the safety precautions people should take, but even a search of newspaper articles turned up nothing.
“Do you think a girl could have drowned without it getting into the papers?” Melanie asked.
“Try a search of obituaries,” Veronica suggested.
That turned up a dozen results for the last few years. They scanned through them and found three young girls had died in the last two years from drowning in the river.
“Carmella Sanchez, Ashley Schmidt, and Joanna Meeker,” said Melanie.
The obituaries gave very little information. There was no way to know how they died, aside from drowning.
“Were they going swimming with friends? Were they rafting?” Veronica asked.
“I don’t know,” said Melanie. “I can’t tell.”
“Maybe one of them is the girl I saw,” said Veronica. “I wish there were pictures.”
“All I can tell you is that Carmella and Ashley were both fourteen, and Joanna was sixteen,” said Melanie. “And they all attended El Dorado High School.”
“Well, maybe that’s significant. It can’t be that big a school, right? Placerville is a small town.”
“Hang on, I’ll look it up.”
Melanie typed into the search engine. She brought up the school’s page.
“El Dorado High School, home of the Cougars,” she murmured. “School colors are blue and white… here we go. Enrollment: one thousand two hundred forty-four. Well, that is kind of big.”
“It says there that it serves all these other communities,” Veronica pointed to the “about us” text. “Kybers. Isn’t that on the way to Lake Tahoe?”
“Yeah, that’s far.”
“There just must not be many high schools around up there. Everyone goes to El Dorado High.”
Melanie nodded. “Well, it’s good to have these girls’ names. I can look for them tomorrow when I try to see if there are any court cases involving our little friend Grant Slecterson.”
Veronica shuddered. “Do you really think he might have drowned one of those poor girls?”
Mel
anie sucked in her lips and shrugged. She met Veronica’s eyes. “I don’t know. Of course I hope not. But he’s from around there, right? I just keep thinking, if he grew up near that river, he would know how dangerous it was, wouldn’t he?”
The thought gave Veronica the creeps. “Maybe that’s it though, I mean… maybe he thought it wouldn’t kill her—maybe that’s a part of the river that’s not supposed to be so bad—”
Melanie was shaking her head. “No,” she demurred. “I looked that up yesterday. The place we found Angie, and the area right above it,” She typed into the search engine as she talked. “It’s called ‘Satan’s Cesspool,’ Veronica. It’s got a bad reputation, even with the more daredevil rafters, for pity’s sake.”
“Wow,” Veronica said, gazing at the pictures Mel’s search brought up. The water was obviously churning and dangerous.
“Especially at this time of year. No,” Melanie said, her voice shaking. “I think that boy was trying to kill my daughter.”
Chapter 10
Veronica couldn’t take the day off on Monday to go to Saint Patrick’s because she had to get her principal to sign off for it, so she went in to work early and tried to find the principal in her office, with no luck. As she walked down to her classroom, she saw a red-haired woman leaning on the wall outside of her door. For a moment, she thought it might be a teacher, or possibly a parent, but as she neared, she recognized her. It was Detective Seong’s partner.
“May I help you?” Veronica asked as she jingled her keys looking for the one to the classroom door.
“Miss Barry,” the woman said. She had a low, gravelly voice. “I don’t know if you remember me. I’m Detective Felsen, Sac PD.”
Veronica eyed her. Her attractive face had a hard edge to it, and her hazel eyes looked as weary as they had the night of Veronica’s interrogation. Felsen took care of herself—styled, shoulder-length, probably straightened hair, shaped eyebrows, and some make-up. She wore a knee-length navy skirt and a white blouse; her body’s slim build communicated a steely strength. She was Seong’s partner. Veronica felt a twinge of jealousy, and then smiled at herself.
“Something funny?” Detective Felsen said, her mild tone sounding just a bit forced.
Veronica got the door open and walked into her classroom, Felsen following behind her.
“What can I do for you, Detective?”
“I understand you called my partner on Saturday.”
Veronica stopped and looked at her. “Yes.”
“I talked to him before he went to see you, and he called me afterwards.”
Veronica raised her eyebrows. “Okay,” she said.
“He said that you don’t believe Collins is our man.”
“That’s true, I don’t.”
“And you called him because you had more information…”
Veronica crossed her arms in front of her. What was this woman digging for?
“I told Detective Seong everything I know,” she said. “He doesn’t believe me.”
Felsen nodded and then tilted her head forward, eyes fixed on the floor. Her hands curled into loose fists at her sides. Veronica studied her—it was a strange position, tense, as if in the next second she might whip around or charge or something. Why was she here?
“So you told Seong you’re a psychic,” Felsen said, still focused on the floor.
Veronica inhaled and raised her eyes to the ceiling. “Yes,” she said on her exhale. “Like I said, he doesn’t believe me.”
“Why don’t you tell me what you told him?”
Veronica’s eyes cut to Felsen, but Felsen still hadn’t moved. “Why?”
At last, Felsen shifted her weight, and began pacing slowly in front of the whiteboard. “Maybe I want to hear what you have to say.”
Veronica watched her. Felsen wanted a cigarette. Veronica could feel it, out of nowhere. The craving.
“You smoke?” Veronica asked, thinking maybe she’d win the detective over if she could prove she knew something about her.
Felsen gave her a quick grin. “The voice?” She raised her hand in front of her, stopping in mid-pace. “Or the yellow on the fingers, right? Yeah. I started when I was in high school.” She gestured to the rows of desks. “You’re stupid at this age, you know? You make stupid choices.” She gazed at them, her face settling into a cold expression.
Veronica pressed her lips together. Well, that hadn’t worked. “Look, Detective Seong said you all have physical evidence…”
Felsen turned and fixed her with her cold stare.
“…so if that’s true, maybe I’m wrong,” she continued. But she didn’t feel wrong. She hated the knowing, but it was there, and what could she do? She’d decided to quit ignoring it—quit trying to push it away. “It’s just that—I’m just sure she knew her attacker, okay? Sylvia Gomez. She knew the guy who killed her. She had some pretty strong feelings for him.”
Felsen raised an eyebrow. “Strong how?”
“Like—terrible guilt. When he caught her, she felt like she deserved what he was doing to her.”
The eyebrows went higher. Felsen crossed her arms, mirroring Veronica’s own stance. “That’s unusual.”
Veronica nodded. “Yeah. I don’t know much more than that. Just that she felt so awful, and she knew him. So it can’t be this guy—the one living in the park. I mean, unless she knew him. Did she know him?”
Felsen cocked her head to one side. “Miss Barry, when I came here today, I had two theories. I wanted to see which one it was.”
Veronica tightened her arms, hugging herself. The raspy quality of Felsen’s voice made it sound almost metallic.
“Either you wanted to see Seong again, and you came up with a really lame excuse…”
Veronica turned away, covering her mouth with her hand.
“…or you’re a con artist, and you were hoping to convince him to pay you to be our little police psychic…”
Veronica shook her head, and realized to her horror that tears had come to her eyes. She kept her back to Felsen, trying to breathe.
“And I have to tell you, I was hoping for option number one: the harmless, lame crush.”
Veronica took a deep breath, focusing on the feel of air in her lungs, and then released it as slowly as she could.
“But it looks like option number two wins, instead. Nice try with the smoking thing, by the way. I bet that one usually works, too.”
Veronica shook her head again, her throat tightening on the lump she tried to swallow. God, after everything, after finally facing this ability, after opening herself up to it, and taking Seong’s crap, now this woman came here, to her classroom, to call her a liar?
“Why are you here?” Veronica asked, still facing away from her. Her voice sounded okay, but she feared that if she looked at Felsen, she’d lose what composure she had left.
“I told you, to figure out what you were up to—”
“He didn’t believe me!”
“Seong’s a nice guy,” Felsen said, and Veronica could feel her take a step closer to her. “You ticked him off, but then he had to start ruminating over whether he left you too abruptly, whether he was rude… I think he likes you, Miss Barry. And I’m here to tell you, don’t try to take advantage of that. You know the whole, good cop, bad cop thing they show on TV? Well, he’s the good cop. You don’t want to find out how bad I can be.”
Veronica blinked the tears back and slowly turned to look at Felsen. “Are you threatening me?” she whispered.
Felsen’s eyes bored into her. “I don’t like cons, Miss Barry. I have no patience for them. You keep up this charade about the Gomez murder and maybe I’ll decide you’re right about Collins being innocent. Maybe I’ll start looking at other suspects. After all, we did find you right there, covered in Sylvia’s blood.”
Veronica made a choked noise. “I can’t believe this,” she muttered.
“Believe it,” Felsen said. “I’m not kidding. I’m still looking at you as a suspect. I do
n’t buy the act. I don’t know what exactly you’re hoping to accomplish, but I can smell a con. Maybe you didn’t kill her—but maybe you did. Or maybe when you saw her lying there you didn’t see some poor murder victim—you saw an opportunity. How long have you been waiting for something like this to come along? Some situation where you could use your skills to convince people you’re the real deal?”
“What skills?” Veronica gasped.
“You’re a smart woman, Miss Barry. Observant. Maybe you even know how to do a cold reading. And everybody knows teachers don’t earn shit. Got tired of the shitty paycheck? Dealing with the kids? You decide you want a better life, maybe? I’ve heard a lot of those TV psychics started out ‘helping’ the police.” She made air quotes with her fingers, tilting her body. “You hope to do the same?”
Veronica raised her chin and shook her head. “I’m done talking to you,” she managed. “First period starts in twenty minutes. I have work to do.”
“I bet,” Felsen said, smiling. Her tired eyes narrowed. “Just be careful, Miss Barry. I’m on to you.”
Veronica walked deliberately to her desk and pretended to sort through papers. After a moment, Felsen finally turned on her heel and left. When the door of her classroom finally closed, Veronica sat down heavily. She rested her head against her hands. “Jesus,” she hissed. A shudder passed through her, and she struggled to fight back tears. If a kid came in and found her crying, she didn’t know what would happen. And if she let herself start crying, she might not stop. She reached for a tissue and pressed it to her eyes. Breathe, she told herself. Just breathe. Moisture penetrated the tissue, dampening the tips of her fingers. Breathe.
What the hell was that woman’s problem? She thought Veronica was a con artist? Why? What did Veronica possibly stand to gain from any of this? Did she think it was fun, having visions of blood and violence?
Breathe.
“It isn’t fair,” Veronica whispered. “I’m just trying to do the right thing.”
If she could be free of this—this curse, she would! She wasn’t trying to fool anyone. She wasn’t trying to get on TV—was Felsen crazy? It was humiliating, trying to talk to people like her, like Seong, about any of it. Did she really believe that Veronica would do it if she had any choice?
The River and the Roses (Veronica Barry Book 1) Page 8