by A. I. Nasser
She lives alone, of that I am certain, although she seems like a woman who has seen her fair share of years. It was fortunate that my duties allowed me to ask questions I would have otherwise not dared to ask.
She has been married before, and had mothered three children that had died at such young ages. It is beyond me to even understand how one so wonderful could face such dire misfortune. When she mentioned her husband’s unfaithfulness, especially after the death of their children, I felt my stomach turn. I could not imagine how anyone could ever be anything other than supportive towards one so gentle and loving.
She has furthered my assurance that Copper Tibet is the man we seek. I will not even consider any more arguments from the Council. Tomorrow is our agreed-upon deadline, and I will make sure everyone understands that if we do not deal with the matter at hand, I will find a way to deal with it myself.
The winds are getting colder now, a bitter reminder that winter is at our doors. Abbey agrees that it will be a harsh one, this year. I only pray this matter is dealt with before the first snow falls.
Chapter 10
“You understand why this is a concern for us, right?”
Alan sat completely still in front of Principal Adams, the older woman as intimidating as she had been when he was a child, although much smaller than he remembered. Then again, everything had seemed larger when he was eleven.
She eyed him from over the rim of her glasses, obviously waiting for him to respond, and he shifted uncomfortably in his seat. Sheriff Fiona had reached out to the school and had warned Rachel Adams about his late-night activities. He had expected as much, and was now trying to figure out whether or not he was going to be fired.
He had planned his return to Melington carefully, almost religiously, working out every angle as best as he could, given of course that he had been hundreds of miles away at the time. He had expected an incident on the twenty sixth, and he had been lucky that Deborah had given him the information he needed without much effort. Of course, the Sheriff’s sudden appearance had not been factored in, and he beat himself up silently for not considering that to be a possible scenario.
Still, he thought he had handled that quite well, until now. His slip-up had put his job at Melington Middle School in jeopardy, and he still needed more time to get acquainted with the building before carrying out the next step in his plan.
He would have to work faster than he had expected, and as he sat in front of Rachel Adams, fidgeting under her gaze in a way that he hoped would make him seem more uneasy than he really was, he scanned the office quickly, making note of every nook and piece of furniture around.
Rachel Adams snapped her fingers at him and brought his attention back to her.
“You seem nervous, Alan,” the woman smiled. “Don’t be. I’ve known you for far too long, and there’s too much history between our families for me to not factor that into my decision.”
“You’re not firing me,” Alan said, his words more a statement than a question.
Rachel shook her head slowly, her eyes set squarely on him, the same look on her face that Sheriff Fiona had when she had been trying to make sense of the man in front of her.
“I am going to warn you that the Sheriff is keeping a close eye on you,” Rachel Adams said. “So, if I were you, I’d keep my head down and stay out of any more trouble for the time being. Do we have an understanding?”
Alan nodded, risking small smile as he played the grateful employee. The truth was, he had already decided on what he was going to do, and whether he was fired or not didn’t matter anymore.
He thanked the woman, shook her hand when it was offered, and returned to class.
***
Fiona Bright was startled awake when the shrill sound of the phone on her desk broke the silence of the empty precinct.
She had spent the last few hours going over case files, reviewing the day’s work well after everyone had left. She enjoyed the time she spent alone in her office long after everyone else had cleared out, reluctant to go home to her empty house and feeling much more at home behind her desk.
Fiona stretched and yawned, reaching for her cigarettes and lighting one before answering the phone. She closed her eyes against the warm feeling of the smoke filling her lungs, knowing that she was killing herself slowly with every breath but hardly caring.
“We have a problem,” came her deputy’s voice from across the line. “Doctor Fanning’s disappeared.”
“What?” Fiona asked, sitting straight up as she cradled the receiver between her shoulder and ear, opening her drawer and taking out her gun and holster from within.
“Just up and vanished,” the deputy was saying. ‘Left everything behind as if in a hurry, too.”
This was really bad news.
“I thought I told you to keep an eye on him,” Fiona spat, her anger echoing across the empty floor.
“Hey, this isn’t my fault,” came the defensive reply. “I did my job fine. He just never came home.”
Fiona balled her fists in anger. “And what were you doing at his house instead of at the hospital?”
“Come on, boss, he’s had the same routine for years now. I just thought I’d get a head start.”
Fiona slammed the receiver down, grabbed her coat and raced out.
***
Alan was alone in Melington Middle School.
This time, though, he had chosen to be a lot more careful. He knew that the Sheriff had someone following him, not that it was much of a secret with the police cruiser sitting squarely by the school baseball field. Alan mused at how lucky the deputy sitting inside was to be working in Melington where his incompetence wouldn’t matter.
He had paid one of the seniors to drive his car home and house sit until his return, giving the boy his jacket and telling him to wear it against the cold. He had no doubt that the deputy would follow the car blindly, with little attention to who was actually driving.
Alan hid out in the gymnasium a half-hour before the end of the day bell rang, having already found an open, two tier locker in the far end of the locker room where he could curl up in the hanging space, undetected. He knew that the school janitor made his rounds during the first hour after everyone had cleared out, and the security guard followed suit.
It never failed to amaze Alan how much information one could get out of people once the charm was turned on.
Alan waited for a good hour after he heard the security guard’s footsteps outside the locker room, the door only swinging open wide enough for a quick peek before the man moved on his way, whistling a Queen tune that echoed eerily across the halls.
When he was sure no one would come along, Alan pushed out of the locker and stretched, fighting the cramps in his thighs and lower back. He hoped he wouldn’t have to do that again anytime soon.
Alan made his way back into the main halls of the school building, working his way by help of the emergency lights, grateful he wouldn’t have to use his flashlight where there was little option for him to hide if anyone were to see its beam. He walked down the halls quickly, making as little sound as possible and sticking to the walls as he carefully maneuvered his way toward the Principal Adams office.
Alan was also grateful for the fact that Rachel Adams had turned down all requests to set up security cameras in the school, something that made his current task that much easier. He had worried about that coming in, and they were the first thing he had looked for on the day of his interview. His meeting the other day with Principal Adams also confirmed that she didn’t have any in her office, although he couldn’t vouch for hidden ones. He had taken precautions anyway. The woman was far from being a fool.
When he finally reached the principal’s office, he took out his tools, and in seconds had opened the first door. Before stepping in, he pulled his mask over his face and counted to ten as he made sure no one was still making rounds through the halls. He pulled out his pocket light and closed the door behind him, hurriedly making his way to
the filing cabinets behind the secretary’s desk.
He pulled out one after the other, quickly scanning the names as his fingers expertly made their way across the files. He recognized many of the kids in his class, their files stacked neatly according to grade and in alphabetical order, and it was immediately clear that he would find nothing of value here.
Alan knew that anything he might be looking for would definitely be found in Rachel’s office, but he had to be thorough, not hesitating to unlock the secretary’s drawers and search through the papers within.
When he was satisfied, Alan moved to the principal’s door. He imagined what Deborah would say to him now as he bent down on one knee and worked the locks to her mother’s office, the satisfying click of the door unlocking the only sound besides his breathing. He wondered if Debbie would be amused.
Alan was careful stepping into Rachel Adams office, already aware that the windows were linked to a security system, hopeful that nothing else in the room was as well. He couldn’t imagine the older woman being the paranoid type, but then again, if his hunch was right, then she had enough reason to be.
He scanned the room quickly, his eyes looking for anything that seemed out of place. There was only one filing cabinet behind her desk, and he doubted he would find anything in there. Rachel wouldn’t leave anything important out in the open like that, nor would she risk hiding them away in her desk. There had to be somewhere else. He hadn’t noticed a shredder anywhere, and he was doubtful she would simply throw things away for curious eyes to pick up.
Her house, genius, a voice in the back of his head shot at him. Did you even consider that?
He had, and Alan knew that if he didn’t find anything here, the Adams house would be his next stop. Not tonight, though. Tonight, Melington Middle School was all his.
Looking at his watch, Alan quickly moved to the filing cabinet behind the principal’s desk and unlocked it, skimming through the files and folders stacked within the four large drawers. As he had suspected, they were useless, and after a half-hour of going through them as well as the contents of Rachel’s desk, he stood frustrated in the middle of the office with little to show for his efforts.
There had to be something.
He moved to the bookshelf, testing its weight, wondering if maybe the principal had hidden something behind it, but the massive oak shelves were heavy. There was no way the older woman could move it without help. He slumped down heavily on a small couch in the corner of the office and looked around, exhaling deeply as he pondered returning to the gym, unsatisfied. His eyes fell across numerous small paintings hung in patterns on the opposite wall, and for a second, he played with the thought of a hidden safe.
No, he thought to himself as he slowly stood up and tilted his head, his eyes shifting from one painting to the next. It couldn’t be that clichéd.
He worked quickly, lifting one painting after the other until he finally found it. A safe in the wall, hidden by a black and white portrait of the founding families. Alan smiled to himself, tapping the small safe playfully. It was a combination safe, a flimsy old thing he knew had probably been installed decades ago and had not been updated. Apparently, Rachel Adams had never seen a reason to.
Alan smiled as he turned the small black dial, right, left and then right again. He was working on a hunch, and when he was rewarded with a soft click, his suspicions of Rachel Adams suddenly became very real.
It was the date of Copper Tibet’s hanging.
Alan suddenly felt the air in the small office get much colder, and he wondered if it was simply the chill in his body at the realization that Rachel Adams had more to do with what was going on in Melington than he had wanted to believe. He felt a shudder race through him as he racked his brain with questions he knew he didn’t want the answers to. He wondered if Deborah was in on it as well, and the mere thought of it sent shudders up and down his spine.
Alan reached into the safe, pulling out a stack of files from within and displaying them on the principal’s desk. He flipped through them, his fears being more confirmed with each and every one he opened. He stared at familiar faces, faces that now hung on the wall of his garage, and he tried his best to control the shaking that had started in his hands and was threatening to spread throughout his entire body.
When he opened Blake Collins’ file, he stepped back from the desk, the blood drained from his face as the world around him began to slowly spin. He sat back down, throwing caution to the wind as he pulled off his mask and buried his face in his hands, squinting against the headache and the spinning, trying his best not to lose control. He had his doubts, but having those doubts confirmed was hitting him harder than he had expected.
When he finally felt able to function properly again, he grabbed the files off the desk and made straight for the copying machine beside the secretary’s desk.
In less than an hour, Alan had returned all the files to the safe, reset the painting, scanned the room to make sure nothing was out of place, and refilled the copier with the right amount of sheets, making sure to reset the machine to its factory setting and delete all traces of having ever been used. He scanned Rachel Adams’s office one last time before stepping out into the hallways and heading back to the gymnasium.
From the Journal of Jeremiah Carter.
Melington. October 5th, 1826.
I am tired.
I have given up on the Council completely. They will not help me.
I have told Abbey everything, and despite my worries, she has responded quite amiably to all I had to say. I salute her bravery, the intent by which she sat quietly and listened to my every word, asking questions only when I was clearly vague and she required more details. It was refreshing, and I feel much lighter than since this ordeal had begun.
My Abbey is wise, a woman with the mind of a scholar. She has advised me to stay low and keep quiet while the Council went about its bureaucratic redundancy. It was a difficult decision to arrest someone without any proof, and it was clear I had none. I will sleep terribly tonight, but I will sleep with the knowledge that I have done all that is in my power to do.
The boys have gotten used to the labors of the farm, and are working quite well with the limited resources available. I believe that in a year or two, I will not need to worry about hiring a hand to help with the chores.
Oh, what am I doing? How can I ignore this? How can I sit back and go about my duties with the knowledge that my daughter’s killer is still out there, walking free in broad daylight without a worry in the world. I wonder how he sleeps, that man. I pray that the face of my Allison haunts him until his dying day.
Chapter 11
“I can’t believe we’re actually arguing over this!”
Deborah stood firmly in the center of her living room, arms crossed over her chest, her eyes blazing with fury as she looked at Michael.
She had been preparing lesson plans when Michael had walked in, slamming the door behind him and storming into the small workspace she had set up in the small room next to hers that had been good for nothing else over the years. He was furious, shouting, waving his arms around as he confronted her about Alan Carter.
Deborah had been surprised by his outburst, rarely seeing Michael like this, especially when it came to her. He had always been quite docile, bordering on indifferent, and to see him worked up about, in his words, her lack of sharing, made her quickly realize that their relationship was going through its final showdown.
“I wouldn’t be fighting over this if you had told me from the start!” Michael spat, his voice raised way above what Deborah considered even remotely acceptable.
“I’m sorry, Mr. High and Mighty, but when have you ever taken the time to even listen to me?” Deborah returned fire. “It wouldn’t have mattered if I had told you earlier or not. You’re always half gone when I talk to you!”
“Hey!” Michael yelled, pointing a finger at her angrily. “Don’t turn this around. This isn’t about me!”
“
That’s right, it’s about us!”
Michael slammed his fist against the wall. “Dammit, Debbie, stop acting like a woman and actually stick to what matters!”
“Acting like a woman?” Deborah yelled. “Did you seriously just say that?”
“I am not going to be pushed and pulled around the core issue here,” Michael shot. “The real problem is that you lied to me. You never told me Alan Carter was back!”
“I’m not obliged to report each and every thing that happens to me on a daily basis, Michael!”
“No, you’re not, but this is different!” Michael’s nostrils flared. “This is Alan Carter we’re talking about! Your childhood sweetheart.”
Deborah froze for an instant, enough for the words to really sink in as she realized just what this was all about.
“Are you jealous?” Deborah asked, the disbelief clear in her voice.
“Of him?” Michael scoffed. “I don’t even know the guy. The last time anyone’s seen him was back in middle school. Why the hell would I be jealous?”
“Then what’s this about?” Deborah demanded. “If you’re not jealous, then why are you so worked up about all this?”
“My father says the guy’s bad news, Debbie.”
“Right,” Deborah smiled sarcastically. “And you usually listen to your father, is that it?”
“No, I don’t, but we don’t know this guy, and now he’s back in our lives, walking around the school you work at. Don’t try to tell me you feel nothing about all this.”
Deborah threw her hands in the air in dismay. “He’s my oldest friend, and I haven’t seen him for twenty years. Of course I feel something about it. I feel excited, and happy, and relieved to see he’s okay, and a whole bunch of other things friends usually feel when they meet after a long time!”