by Claire Booth
Raker grunted and opened his notebook. They divvied up tasks as they waited for Sam, who finally walked in and strode up to Hank with his hand out.
‘I’ll take my keys.’
Hank pulled out a chair.
‘How about you give us a rundown of your interviews first?’ he said.
The Pup glanced around and realized Sheila and Raker were there. He turned red and quickly sat. When he finished his briefing, Raker asked if the older lady had gotten any part of the black car’s license plate.
‘No. I asked specifically. Plus it didn’t seem like her eyesight was that good.’
‘What about the downstairs witness? Did she get partial numbers at least?’ Sheila said.
Sam got all red again and mumbled a ‘no.’
‘OK,’ Raker said. ‘Since the description of this car’s driver matches – at least a little – my victim, I’ll get my guys going on tracking it down. We’ll also run background checks on the apartment tenants.’
‘OK,’ said Hank. ‘And we’ll keep looking into Gall and the other kids.’
Sheila pushed off from the wall she’d been leaning against. ‘And I’ll keep on the theater angle with Dale.’
Hank agreed immediately. He was pleased that – even if she wasn’t vocally supporting his theory that the crash wasn’t an unconnected accident – she was at least keeping the sheriff’s department involved in the homicide investigation. He tried to catch her eye, but she’d turned toward Sam.
‘Can you give a copy of your notes to Detective Raker? Then take a break, go get something to eat.’
‘I would,’ Sam said. ‘But I. Don’t. Have. My. Car.’
Hank started to speak, but Sheila beat him to it.
‘Well, how’d you get here?’
‘Sergeant DeRosia gave me a ride.’
‘Why would she do that?’
‘She came by the apartments because she said she’d remembered she left the Chief without a ride,’ Sam said. ‘She saw it was just me, so she drove me here.’
Sheila got a funny look on her face. Hank ignored it and turned to Sammy, who looked like he was about to stick out his hand again.
‘I’ll take you to your car,’ said Hank, who’d driven the family minivan to the BPD station.
They all stood. Dale moved toward the door, pointing at Sam at the same time.
‘And good job, son, with those interviews. That dented bumper’s our most solid lead so far. Well done.’
Sam’s eyes widened, and he smiled. A little.
‘Thank … thank you, sir.’ He shoved his hands in his pockets and mumbled his way out the door. Hank followed, cursing that he hadn’t thought to compliment Sam first. He fought back the bloody images that seemed to be paralyzing his mind and trailed his deputy into the parking lot.
SEVENTEEN
He waited until the bell rang. Then he got out of the car and walked across the suddenly quiet parking lot and into the school. The halls should have been silent, too, but they weren’t. Crying echoed against the lockers and hoarse whispers came from students clustered together near classroom doors. He wasn’t in uniform today, so no one paid him any attention as he walked to the office.
Bill Narwall, the principal of the school, was waiting for him, standing behind the front counter like it was a safety barrier. It just made him look even smaller. Hank didn’t even bother with a greeting.
‘I want to go to Johnny Gall’s first period class,’ he said.
Narwall gripped the counter and sputtered something unintelligible. Hank stared at him and tried not to swear. He hadn’t slept at all last night, his head hurt, and his chest felt like an iron press was sitting on it. He didn’t think he had enough breath to form a response.
‘I think what Mr Narwall was trying to say was that the grief counselor is currently in that class.’
Both men turned toward the side door with relief. A stout woman with steel gray hair and an air of effortless efficiency let the door close behind her. She came around the counter and extended her hand.
‘Mr Worth, it’s nice to see you, but a shame that it’s under these circumstances again.’
Hank agreed. He’d met the school secretary, who he’d secretly dubbed the Battle Ax, while investigating the Bryson murder, and now he realized that he’d never gotten her name. He shook her hand and apologized.
‘Nonsense, nothing to apologize for. I’m Arlene Ostermann.’ She shot a look at her boss. ‘I thought I’d suggest speaking with Johnny Gall’s English teacher. She’s on prep right now, so there wouldn’t be an issue with the grief counselors. And she also teaches Hailee, Gabriel, and Alex at various times during the day. Oh – taught. She taught them all.’ She fought back tears. ‘I’m sorry.’
Hank assured her that he understood and asked if she’d be kind enough to show him to Mrs Rozalski’s classroom. He didn’t trust that Narwall actually knew the way. Mrs Ostermann gave him a smile that said she knew exactly what he was thinking and marched out into the hallway.
They walked down several long corridors before they reached the right door. A petite woman with short brown hair was grading assignments at a desk in the back. A pile of tissues sat next to the stack of papers. Hank gratefully took the one other chair in the room that wasn’t attached to a slice of desk, and introduced himself.
‘Arlene said you wanted to talk about Johnny especially. Why is that?’ Mrs Rozalski said.
‘Well, Johnny’s living situation wasn’t … typical, really,’ Hank said. ‘And we’re having trouble tracking down his parents. Do you know anything about them?’
‘Really? He didn’t live with them? He wasn’t on my records as a foster kid.’
‘Oh, we don’t think he was in foster care. We think he might have been living on his own, actually.’
She sat back and pursed her lips in thought. ‘That does happen. I’ve had a couple of kids where the parent just took off, disappeared. That probably happens even more than I know about, honestly. Do his folks have records?’
Hank smiled. This lady had been doing this for a while. She’d probably had kids in every kind of circumstance pass through her classroom. The scenario she described didn’t surprise him – especially if the kid lived in an outlying area where there weren’t nearby neighbors who would notice the lack of adults.
‘He was able to pay the rent on an apartment in a pretty nice complex,’ Hank said. ‘But the ID he used to rent it wasn’t in his name. That’s one reason we’re trying to find out everything we can about him.’
That was a new one in Mrs Rozalski’s experience. Her eyes widened in surprise.
‘I never heard him use another name.’
‘How did he act? Like a typical high school senior?’
She twirled her pen for a moment.
‘He was new here, but he seemed to be fitting in as well as could be expected. He was actually still kind of new and shiny, if you know what I mean. Most of these kids have gone to school together since kindergarten. So when somebody new comes in, it can be exciting. People wanted to be his friend. He kind of gave off this cool, rock-star vibe.’
‘Who did he hang out with?’
The pen twirled some more.
‘Lots of different people. No one in particular, though, I think. Wait – I did see him walking around with Hailee Fitch a couple times. Oh, and Matt Chorovich, from the football team.’
Hank wrote that name down. He hoped that, unlike every other teen so far, this kid was alive and well and full of information. Then he asked about Hailee.
‘That poor child. No one would go near her. That’s why I remember her walking with Johnny Gall. It was unusual for her to be doing that with anyone. Don’t get me wrong, they weren’t “walking” like they were going together. They were just walking along and talking. But for her, that wasn’t typical. She had no friends, because of her sister. I think parents flat out tell their kids not to associate with Hailee, too. So she just tried to fade into the background. But her scho
olwork this year is absolutely brilliant. And always has been, from what other teachers have told me. She’s a very smart kid.’ Her voice hitched. ‘She was … she was a very smart kid.’
Hank remembered the Blenkinships saying something unfavorable about the Fitch family.
‘What is it about the sister?’
Mrs Rozalski shook her head and sighed. ‘Emily was kicked out of school a few years ago. Really talented kid, but was expelled about three years ago, I think. She was arrested for theft and I heard that there were other things … but I don’t really know what they are.’
Hank leaned forward. ‘Ma’am, I know that you don’t want to speak out of turn or spread gossip, but this is a very serious investigation. I’m trying to figure out why six young people died and why another one is in critical condition at Branson Valley General. I need to know what Emily might be involved with. I need to look into whether Hailee might have gotten drawn into it involuntarily. Anything you tell me is only so I can figure this car crash out, not because I want to create more problems for the Fitch family.’
She set her pen down slowly on the desk blotter. ‘There was some talk that Emily was involved in drugs. And doing things to get drugs. Like the stealing. And …’
She trailed off and looked agonizingly at Hank. He motioned for her to continue.
‘And prostitution. That’s something I heard she was doing much later though, after she’d left school. And I don’t know that for sure. That’s just kids talking. Please … don’t …’
Hank reassured her and steered the conversation to Gabe Schattgen and Alex Danzig, who were both nice boys with B averages and the typical wandering attention spans of teens in their last year of high school. He stood to leave and was almost to the door when Mrs Rozalski stopped him.
‘Wait – did you say someone was at the hospital? Another student?’
He explained how Lauren Blenkinship had been found.
‘Oh, Lord. We didn’t know that. The grief counselors will need to be told. This is … so horrible. Please … if there are answers, Sheriff, please find them.’
The school district office opened at eight. Sam was there when the first employee arrived at seven forty. She wouldn’t let him in. Even though he had his uniform on. Even though she’d heard about the crash on the news. He decided he’d stand smack in front of the glass door until someone else got there. Someone friendlier, hopefully.
Finally at five minutes to eight, an older gentleman Sam recognized as the superintendent showed up. The guy called Sam a young man, which he hated, but let him right in and set him up with a desk and a cup of coffee. And then instructed the lady to help ‘this important deputy’ with anything he needed. That made him feel better. He opened up the folder he’d brought stocked with paper and a list of questions, and got to work.
The lady – a thin, librarian-looking woman named Joyce – was able to find the copy made of Gall’s birth certificate. It was a black-and-white Xerox, which didn’t do much to confirm the authenticity of the actual document.
‘Were you the one who made this copy?’
Joyce nodded. ‘I’m the one who does all that with registrations.’
‘And how do you confirm that birth certificates are the real thing?’
‘I look at the seal,’ she said impatiently. ‘It’s embossed.’
Sam tried to ignore her tone. ‘What if it’s out-of-state? How do you know that’s really what the other state’s certificate looks like?’
She stared at him. He held up Gall’s copy.
‘Like this one – how are you sure that the seal on here is legit?’
She started to scowl, but then really thought about it. ‘I … I don’t know. I know it was embossed – I wouldn’t have accepted it otherwise. But I guess I don’t know exactly what a Kentucky one would look like. Did they give me a forgery?’
That’s what he was trying to figure out, Sam explained. He needed to know everything she could recall about the registration.
‘I’m trying to remember him, but we were pretty busy those couple of weeks,’ she said. ‘Nobody really sticks out.’
‘He would’ve possibly been by himself.’
She laughed. ‘I think I’d remember if a kid came in without a parent or guardian.’
‘Are you sure?’
‘Definitely. That would have been completely out of the norm.’
Sam thought hard. If Johnny Gall had parents here, where were they now? And if he didn’t, who’d come with him to register for school? He tapped on his folder and felt the paper clips holding the two photos he still needed to show her.
‘What about someone with a … a different family set-up, say? Like a guardian, or a sibling, or something like that? Anybody like that?’
‘I think there were several appointed guardians this year, but that would involve court orders and those would be in the file.’ She spread her hands out over the open file for Gall, John. ‘And there’s nothing like that here. I guess an older sibling could’ve come in, but I can’t remember if that happened. I’m sorry.’
This wasn’t turning out to be as informative as Sam had hoped it’d be. He swallowed a sigh and pulled out Johnny’s DL picture. Joyce didn’t recognize him, but that wasn’t to say he didn’t come in, she said. Just that she didn’t remember. Then he unclipped the murder victim’s photo and warned her that it might be disturbing before he placed it in front of her.
‘Oh, yes. I’ve seen him before.’
‘What? Are you kidding me?’ He cringed as soon as he said it. ‘What I mean is, I’d love to know where you saw him before.’
She contemplated the picture for a minute. ‘I’m pretty sure it’s him. And it was during the registration time period. I know that, because I was running out to my car to go get lunch. I usually bring it from home on those days, but I’d forgotten. So I was in a hurry. And I slammed right into him as I came around the corner on the sidewalk outside, going toward the parking lot. My purse went everywhere. He helped me pick it up.’
Sam fought back a grin and tried to stay professional as he asked more questions. She hadn’t seen if he was with anyone, or what kind of car he might have been driving. The man never came inside, but he could have been waiting for someone. It was a natural spot to do that if they were going to get in a car parked in the lot.
Sam took both photos back and thanked Joyce for her time. As he was leaving, the superintendent came out of his back office.
‘I’ve got to get out to the high school. They just called and said there’s another student accident. A junior’s in the hospital – she fell off a cliff or something. The grief counselors can’t keep up.’
They both turned and looked at Sam, who nodded solemnly and held open the door. He wasn’t going to admit he didn’t know much about that incident. And he sure wasn’t going to mention that if this whole thing panned out like Hank seemed to suspect it would, those grief counselors would need to change their playbook from car accident to foul play.
‘If’ there were answers, Hank replayed Mrs Rozalski’s words in his head. Hank walked out to the track, where he’d been told the football player Johnny Gall hung out with was currently in PE class. The kid jogged over as everyone else headed for the locker rooms.
‘Yes, sir?’
Hank identified himself. He’d purposefully worn jeans and a casual button-down shirt today – it might be easier to scare teenagers when in uniform, but it was easier to talk to them in street clothes. Hank delicately asked if the boy had heard about the accident. Matt Chorovich nodded and turned a shade of pale that was more the color of guilt than the color of grief. Interesting. Hank gestured toward the bleachers and the two sat on the bottom bench. The metal was still cold.
‘Were you supposed to be with them?’
Matt jerked back and pale turned to red. A ‘yes’ came out before he could stop himself. Hank wanted to shake the kid and plead for answers. Instead, he casually turned to face him full on.
‘I
need you to tell me everything. I’m trying to figure things out, and anything you know is important.’
He looked the perfect jock. Sandy blond hair that flopped in a disinterested sweep across his face. Tall and filling out like boys did the last few years of high school. And right now, sniffling as he stared at the ground.
‘Johnny said we’d go and have a good time. Nothing big, just hanging out without having parents around.’
‘Where?’
‘An apartment. He said it was a friend’s and we could use it all night.’
‘Did you know where it was located?’
Matt shook his head. Johnny just said when they all met up, he’d take them there.
‘Why didn’t you end up going?’ Hank asked.
Matt let out a long, slow breath. ‘It was my little sister’s birthday. I was going to bail on it, but she was turning thirteen, you know? A big teenager. She thought it was such a big deal. So I stayed.’
All the classmates were going to meet up at eight at a park close to Kayla Anderson’s house. He’d called Johnny at seven to say he wasn’t coming.
‘How were seven of you supposed to fit in a little sedan?’
He finally looked at Hank. ‘Is that what they were driving?’
Hank nodded.
‘It was supposed to be me,’ Matt said. He buried his head in his hands. Hank gave him a moment, looking out at the football field and the dewy footprints of first period gym class. Finally, Matt cleared his throat.
‘I was supposed to drive. I have a minivan – my mom’s old one. I was supposed to pick everybody up at the park.’
That went a long way toward explaining why Alex Danzig was driving a too-small car belonging to a parent he didn’t even live with.
‘So since there were seven people, you were going to drive? Did you offer?’
Matt raised his head, his brow furrowed. ‘I … no, Johnny asked me. Yeah. That’s what happened. That’s what usually happens – it’s a big car, I get asked to drive a lot for different stuff.’