by Hopkin, Ben
“I knew it!” Trey yelled, causing mild hearing damage to Darc’s right eardrum. “I knew he was the one!”
Listed in the lawsuit as a consultant for the defense was APA Carson Speer.
CHAPTER 21
It was coming.
The Intermediary had suffered setbacks, hurt, fear, deprivation. But they were all for a glorious purpose. A necessary part of the plan.
There had been additional snags, of course. Ones that even the Intermediary couldn’t have foreseen. The addition of the girl, as one example.
Who would have thought that three responsible adults would come together and decide that a young child would be a valued addition to a dangerous crime scene? Admittedly, it was genius. What Darc lacked in emotional depth and empathy, this little girl seemed to have in spades.
The Intermediary had been more concerned about the involvement of the doctor. She seemed to be the one that could unlock Darc’s full potential. And there had been measures put in place to hamstring her.
But to have both of them show up like that at the crime scene. To have the entire spectacle ruined by a kindergartner. That was just…
Well, it was funny, that’s what it was. The Intermediary was always gracious in defeat. There was humor to be found here, and it wasn’t going to be dismissed simply because it was uncomfortable. Time to take the lumps that had been earned.
If the Intermediary couldn’t beat out this young threat, then there was nothing at all superior about the plan, now was there?
There was a certain fascination about the girl, as well. For one so young to come back from such a dark place. It spoke of depth of soul. It spoke of strength. It spoke of the best of the best.
Perhaps she was too young to be considered for the ultimate goal, but she was one that deserved to be watched. To be tracked. To be nurtured.
And the Intermediary was nothing if not nurturing.
* * *
Mala received the call with a sense of relative calm. That lasted until she got off the phone with the principal.
And now she was headed back in for another one of those dreaded meetings. How many of these could she have before she faced the fact that it might be Janey with the problem, not the school? Just because she loved her foster daughter and didn’t much care for the principal didn’t mean that Janey was right and everyone else was wrong.
Besides, Mala didn’t dislike Mrs. Kingston. Was she the best teacher Mala had ever met? No. But she didn’t seem like she was out to get Janey. The teacher seemed to be genuinely trying to make Janey’s mainstreaming work.
Maybe Mala was the problem. Janey was so bright, there seemed no benefit to having her be in with the children with significant socialization issues. But clearly there was something wrong here.
It wasn’t like this was the first time Mala had been called in for something that Janey had done, obviously. But she had hoped that it wouldn’t be the day after she took the little girl out to a crime scene at two o’clock in the morning.
Honestly, she’d hoped it wouldn’t happen at all any longer. Mala had truly thought that Janey would get past her whole misbehavior thing as the year progressed. Perhaps it was time for Mala to face the facts.
And for Janey to face the music.
No matter how intelligent the little girl was, no matter how precious to Mala, Janey had to learn how to behave herself in these situations, or she’d be marginalized her whole life. There was a textural difference to this meeting with the principal and the last.
As she walked down the hallway, Mala was struck by how small they seemed. Her memories from kindergarten were that the proportions were much larger, made for giants. Mala was one of the giants now. The halls were made proportionate to adults.
That seemed somehow wrong.
The school was for the education of the youth who studied here. Why was everything geared toward those who had to work here?
Mala continued thinking that until the principal’s secretary asked her to take a seat outside the office. Here, at least, the proportions were for children. Mala’s knees were up around her chest, and she was feeling quite small.
She had to wonder if that was deliberate.
“Mrs. Charan?” Principal Killarney called out from inside the office.
Mala stiffened at hearing, once again, that the principal seemed unwilling to acknowledge her title of doctor. But that’s not why they were here. She could make an argument out of that point, but it would be avoiding the larger issue of Janey’s behavior.
It was time to stay on point. “I’m here,” she called back, standing up and readjusting her skirt that had gotten hiked up due to the size of the chair.
She entered into the office, and her heart sank. There, sitting in the corner of the small office, was Richard Templeton, the social worker from DSHS. This was bad. It was beyond bad. It was worst-case scenario.
Scrolling through the list of options in her head, Mala despaired. There really was no way out of this. For Janey to be getting into trouble at school on this level, after Mala had been questioned for taking the girl to crime scenes, felt like the end of the road.
For the moment, it was a meeting with just the three of them. Apparently having Janey there was not part of the agenda. Mala’s heart sank farther, if that were even possible. At least with Janey present there would be no talk of having her removed from Mala’s home. But in this scenario, all bets were off.
It didn’t help any that Richard Templeton had the smuggest of expressions plastered all over his face. Just looking at him was causing Mala’s blood to boil. She looked away, knowing that an assault charge would not help right now.
“Mrs. Charan,” the principal boomed. “I’m sorry to have to see you again so soon.”
“As am I, Mr. Killarney.” The principal didn’t make eye contact with her, nor did he offer his hand, and Mala didn’t want to push the issue. This seemed that Killarney was gearing up for a confrontation. So far, Templeton had done nothing more than lurk menacingly in the corner.
“Did my secretary tell you what Janey did?” Killarney asked.
“No,” she answered. “I was just told that there was a problem and that I needed to come in.”
“Well,” the principal grumbled. “It seems Janey led some sort of an uprising. I wanted to talk to you first before we called her in. Her teacher is sending her down now.”
“An uprising?” Mala asked. “That sounds very Lord of the Flies.”
“That’s sort of how it was described to me,” came the disturbing answer. “It’s not the kind of thing that normally happens with our kindergartners.”
Every fiber of Mala’s being wanted to cry out that it wasn’t Janey’s fault. That if there was a problem here, it was obviously with the school and not her precious little girl. All of her previous interactions with helicopter parents that refused to let their children suffer the consequences of their own actions came back to her. She knew now how they felt.
The problem was, even if she decided to go down that route, with Templeton here it would do nothing but backfire. One mention of it being anyone else’s fault, and he would chime in with all the ways in which she had been negligent as a parent. Strange that her nemesis at the DSHS would keep her from going down a dark parental path, but there it was.
“I’ve been speaking with Mr. Templeton here from DSHS, and he’s told me a little bit about Janey’s… wait, you said her name was Caitlyn, right?” the principal asked, turning to Richard.
“Yes. Her legal name is Caitlyn,” Templeton responded in as sanctimonious a tone as Mala had ever heard.
“Where did the name Janey come from?” Killarney asked, looking back and forth between Mala and the social worker. Mala opened her mouth to respond, but Templeton beat her out of the gate.
“Apparently Ms. Charan has taken to calling her by some sort of nickname,” he said. “That is something we advise against during our PRIDE course for prospective foster parents. But unfortunately, Ms. Charan wa
s unable to attend all of those classes, so she may have missed that information.” He turned a bland smile on Mala, his dark eyes glittering in the light from the principal’s desk lamp.
Like some sort of reptile, Mala thought to herself. Was he never going to let go of that one PRIDE class of which she missed less than twenty minutes? And did all men in power feel threatened by her professional title? The whole conversation seemed so petty.
But the results of this conversation were far from it. They could be far-reaching, and the ultimate victim would be Janey.
That could not happen.
“Yes, well,” Killarney continued. “Richard filled me in on Caitlyn’s background. Horrific stuff. I’m not sure she’s equipped to be in a mainstream class. Even the other—”
Richard Templeton lifted a hand. “Let me stop you right there, Howard.”
Great. These two appeared to be on a first-name basis. All of the sudden Mala felt like she had stepped into the boy’s club and was getting the once-over by everyone there.
The social worker continued. “I’m not sure that what happens with Caitlyn is going to be up to Ms. Charan much longer.”
The principal harrumphed. “Well, that’s… I mean, if that’s what you think is best. You being the expert and all.”
Something inside Mala broke at that point. Whether it was the overt threat of having Janey removed from her home, or the way the two men appeared to be ganging up on her, or just the sheer unfairness of the whole attack, Mala wasn’t sure.
What she was sure of was that she was done.
“I think that’s enough,” she said, her tone quiet.
“Excuse me?” said the principal.
“I don’t think you’re in any position to—” began Templeton.
“I said, that’s enough,” Mala hissed.
The men’s eyes grew large. She had their attention. They seemed a bit like deer in headlights as Mala fixed them each with a long look. The damage had already been done. She was now committed, and it was time to put this thing to rest, once and for all.
This was going to be fun.
“You,” Mala said, pointing at the principal. “You said that you’d heard my girl’s story? I’m not sure you’ve heard it all.”
“I don’t need to know the—”
“Yes. You. Do.” She let those three words sink in. The look of surprise on both men’s faces was heady, but Mala wasn’t doing this for some kind of power trip.
Well, okay, maybe a little bit, but only because they deserved it.
“She watched her parents be butchered right in front of her eyes and was then submerged in their blood.”
Killarney lifted a hand to his mouth. Clearly he hadn’t heard the whole tale. Templeton, on the other hand, had gone pale and was pressing his lips together into a thin white line.
“Well, I can see as how that—” the principal started.
“No, I’m not sure that you can. Either of you.” Mala now turned to the social worker. “Do you know what state she was in when the detectives found her?”
Templeton was smart enough not to speak out loud. A short shake of his head was the only answer he allowed himself.
“She was catatonic.” Mala reigned herself in a bit, taking a deep breath. “I get that for a normal child, being at a crime scene would be devastating… traumatic, even. But she is far from normal.”
“You can’t be suggesting that her involvement is in any way, shape or form healthy?” scoffed Templeton.
“I’m not only suggesting it, I’m stating it as my professional opinion.” She held up a hand to forestall both the principal and the social worker’s comments. “An opinion, by the way, which is far more informed than both of you combined.”
Killarney stirred at that. “What are you—?”
“I am a licensed child psychologist with over a decade and a half of practical experience. I know what I’m doing.”
Templeton stepped forward. “Your professional opinion is warped. And I think it’s based off of some sick fascination that you have with that detective with Asperger’s.”
“Um,” the principal muttered. “I don’t really understand what’s going on here.”
“This is what you both need to understand,” Mala said, ignoring the principal’s utterance. “The only thing that has made it so that Janey… and yes, I call her Janey, at her request… can even function is the fact that she was allowed to participate in tracking down her parent’s killer. And she is not only functioning, she’s thriving.”
“Thriving?” challenged Templeton. “Is that what you call leading some kind of classroom revolution?”
At that moment, Janey burst into the room, a huge smile plastered all over her face. She saw Mala there and ran to embrace her, holding up her bear to be kissed.
Nodding at the two other men in the room, Janey grabbed Mala’s hand and started pulling. She was trying to get Mala to leave the office.
“Sweetie, we need to talk to these two men about what you did in class today,” Mala said, trying to keep her own fears out of her voice. Janey didn’t have to know how bad things were right now.
But instead of letting up on her grip, Janey nodded her head up and down and continued tugging at Mala. There was obviously something she wanted to show her.
And she was smiling. Still. Whatever it was that Janey was trying to communicate to her, it was clear that she was excited about it.
Janey was smart. There was no way that she didn’t understand that having Mala in the principal’s office was not a good thing. So if she wanted Mala to go somewhere, it was probably a good idea to follow along. Mala felt a surge of hope well up inside her.
“Gentlemen,” Mala spoke over her shoulder as she walked out of the office. “It seems that Janey wants to show me something. It would probably be a good idea if you came along.”
She didn’t give them a chance to argue.
* * *
Trey was stoked.
Finally he was going to get to put away that punk of an APA. He had known that guy was off from the second he laid eyes on him. Well, actually, it was from the moment Carson Speer had identified himself as the new Assistant Prosecuting Attorney. But still.
Darc had called in for a warrant, and it was just a matter of minutes before it would be granted. They wanted to make sure and corner Speer in his office, just in case the weasel was friends with someone in the judge’s office. Didn’t want their prime suspect scurrying off like the cockroach he was. Weasel? Cockroach? No. Garbage. That was the best descriptor for this guy.
It’s time to take out the trash. Trey had always wanted a chance to say something like that, even if it was only to himself.
“So, how are we going to do this?” Trey asked. “Barge in and slap him in cuffs, or what?”
“We will go in and ask him questions,” his partner answered.
“Hold on. We’re just going to talk to him?”
“That is what is required at this moment.”
Trey was now just a little less stoked. “You mean that after all that, you still don’t think it’s him?”
Darc took a moment before answering. A long enough moment that Trey was starting to think that his partner was just ignoring him again. Not that it would be all that out of the ordinary. But him pausing to think things through was. Very. And yet that’s what it seemed was going on.
“I am not positive that the APA is the killer,” he finally said.
“Really? What does it take to convince you?” Trey ticked off the points on his finger. “He’s the APA. He seems like a good guy. He’s a Freemason. He’s the APA. He’s got no alibi. He was seen coming out of our only witness’ room right before the guy dies. He’s on the lawsuit, and he’s the freaking APA.”
“There…” Darc rubbed at his hand with his other thumb. “There is something… off… about it.”
Wow. Darc unsure of himself. Darc thinking things through. Trey wasn’t sure if he liked this new Darc. It was a lot more f
un to run behind his partner when the big bald guy was busy knocking in doors and interpreting symbols and saving the day and stuff.
“Okay,” Trey relented. “We’ll just talk to him.” He moved down the hallway to the APA’s office. “But don’t expect me to be happy about it.”
They zipped past Carson’s secretary, who looked up as they were walking past.
“Excuse me,” she called after them, flapping her arms to get their attention. “You can’t just walk in there.”
“Sure we can,” Trey called over his shoulder, flashing his badge at her. “We’re all on the same team, aren’t we?”
Trey shouldered Carson Speer’s door open and surprised the APA in the act of shaking someone’s hand. That alone wouldn’t have been suspicious, but the someone involved was a large, looming Italian man whom Trey recognized. Jimmy Arconato, a known associate of the Colacurcios family.
The secretary, who was still right on Trey and Darc’s heels, poked her head around the doorframe. “Mr. Speer, I’m so sorry, they just—”
The attorney just waved her off, turning his attention to Trey.
“Detective Keane,” Carson said, his tone smooth. “What can I do for you? I’m just finishing up with a meeting.”
“I can see that,” Trey answered. “But since it looks like you’re done, maybe we can chat for a bit.”
“Sure, sure,” he said, waving at the chairs in front of his desk.
Trey just stared back at him. Maybe Trey wasn’t going to get the privilege of taking the guy on a perp walk today, but he still planned on having fun with this.
“Okay…” Carson said, glancing back and forth between Trey and Darc. He then turned to his mafia contact. “Jimmy, we were finished anyway, right?”
“Oh, yeah,” Jimmy drawled. “It’s getting crowded in here, anyway.” The beefy man locked gazes with Trey before sauntering out of the office.
“Sorry about that,” the APA said, pointing once more at the chairs in front of him.
“See,” Trey responded. “Right there. That’s your problem.”