Never Forgotten

by Jennifer Chase

  Emily turned her head and saw a tall man enter. He was the same muscular man she had seen earlier in the hall. He was dressed in khaki pants and a light beige polo shirt carrying a leather satchel. He weaved his way around the class to the front, dropped his bag on the desk, and wrote Mr. Bowden on the blackboard. As he turned to face everyone, he took an extra moment to gaze a Sara. It seemed strange to Emily. It was as if they already had known each other, or had some type of secret.

  “Good afternoon class. For those of you who don’t know me, I’m Mr. Bowden.”

  The students mumbled their responses.

  He smiled and continued, “One thing that I can promise you is that we are going to have a great time in this class. Call it an adventure or mystery, or even a serious drama.” He rummaged into his briefcase and pulled out a stack of stapled papers. “Now, here’s the reading list and the papers that I expect from each and every one of you.” He gave small stacks to the students in front to pass backwards.

  It immediately caught Emily’s attention when he mentioned the word mystery. She had read every type of mystery book available in the library. She had read some of those fascinating books two and three times if she really enjoyed them.

  Maybe this class and new school wasn’t going to be so bad. Maybe it was what it was like when people started a new life, or a new beginning. Emily felt that things happened for a reason and maybe in a twisted sort of way this was supposed to be her life.

  Emily’s first day of school passed without any complication or incident as she reflected on everything walking home. She was surprised that she had homework to complete for the next day and had memorized the reading list from Mr. Bowden’s class. She would probably end up reading all of the paperbacks listed instead of the minimal assigned number.

  After a dinner of a homemade mushroom and pepperoni pizza, Emily dutifully went to her room. It was Uncle Jim’s den that he had emptied and turned into her private bedroom. It took him a bit of effort to remove all of his work files, inventions in progress, computers, and volumes of textbooks. The décor now was plain with a bed, dresser, desk, and an overstuffed chair. They were nice pieces of furniture, but it felt more comparable to the display window of a department store. Her uncle promised to take her shopping for any accessories or anything else that would cheer up her own private space.

  It did not take long for Emily to recount the events of her parent’s investigation. She did this when she was alone. Apparently, the DNA evidence was contaminated because of improper handling. The detective sergeant in charge of the case promised her that they were doing everything they could and would not stop until the killer was found. Emily was angry. After she had read a police procedural book, she could not understand how the police could have messed up that badly. Her sorrow and loneliness had turned to anger. She felt more comfortable with that emotion; it gave her more focus.

  A soft scratching noise interrupted her thoughts. Emily opened her bedroom door and a dark brown and black German shepherd zoomed inside. Bailey jumped on the bed, turned around once before snuggling down in a comfortable position. He soon snored softly. Bailey was the household security as well as a trusted companion. Emily thought Uncle Jim seemed lonely in his work at times, especially since his wife died two years ago, and a dog was a good choice for a loyal buddy.

  Emily sat at her desk organizing her schoolbooks and folders for each class. She leaned back and stared at the blank wall. Everything was different. Nothing was the same. To make matters worse, she had to go talk to a social worker once a week. The wave of feelings washed over her and usually ended up in the pit of her stomach. There was a familiar heavy pressure against her chest, feelings of numbness, and a floating uneasiness. She never knew when it would hit, but it was getting better. She had gained a new skill. After going through the loss of her parents, it had given her insight or sensitivity with danger and the ability of reading people. Emily did not know if it was a blessing or a curse – only time would tell.

  Just before ten o clock, Emily said goodnight to her uncle and tucked herself into bed. Her mind tired from the all of the newness and she succumbed to a deep sleep.

  “Em… Em… it’s time to get up.”

  Emily had been in a foreign country wandering the streets in her dream. As she woke and saw her uncle leaning over her, she realized that the loneliness that she had felt in her dream was in her waking moments as well.

  “Morning…” she said sleepily.

  “Em… there’s no school today.” Her uncle had a sad and uneasy expression on his face.

  “What? Why?” It was only the second day of school.

  “Well…” He began. “There’s been a problem at your school.”

  Emily sat up, now fully awake. “What kind of problem?”

  “There’s been a report of a missing student and the school has been shut down so the police can look for the girl.”

  “Who was it? What’s her name?”

  Her uncle didn’t want to answer at first.

  “Please Uncle Jim, who was it?” Emily met her uncle’s concerned gaze, determined to get an answer.

  “It was an eighth grade student – Sara Perkins.”

  The name stung Emily. She recounted her brief conversation at lunch yesterday and then her active imagination began to plow forward full speed ahead. In rapid succession, she asked. “What are they doing to find her? Did they find any clues? Where was she last seen? Are her best friends okay?”

  “Slow down Em… the police are handling it.” He stood up. “It’s not like your murder mystery books.” He couldn’t quite meet her gaze and changed the subject. “How about I take the day off today and we find something fun to do or shop for some things for you?”

  Emily leaned back against her headboard. She wanted to go to the school to find out what they were doing there, and if they had enough people working the case. It disappointed her that her parent’s case had no new leads and poor handling of evidence. Maybe it was different in California in the way they investigated cases. She hoped that was true.

  Emily forced a smile for her uncle’s sake, “Sure, that would be nice.”

  CHAPTER 3

  Dreams filled with graphic, awful situations attacked her from every angle. Emily awoke with a jerk. Her fists clenched so tight that it had left small indentations in her palms. Sweat covered her forehead and perspiration trickled down her back.

  The comforter lay twisted and slung over to the far side of the bed. She could feel the cool air slap against her damp skin. As she thought more about the frightening images, goose bumps prickled down her arms and legs. She shook off the creepy feelings and pushed aside the upsetting images.

  The digital numbers from the clock on the nightstand read 12:45am.

  It was impossible to go back to sleep now.

  Emily climbed out of bed and was about to put on a sweatshirt to warm herself when she stopped. She pulled up the blinds and looked out the small window. The neighborhood remained quiet and still. It had been breezy earlier in the evening rattling the window screens, but now the stark silence took the lead. Everyone was safe and tucked inside their homes for the night – at least that was the pleasant image she had filled her mind with now.

  It didn’t take long for Emily to rewind to the previous day’s conversation with Sara Perkins. The more she thought about it, the more she thought there had been something sad about the girl. Did she know what was in store for her? Did she have fears or secrets that prevented her from seeking help? Sara seemed to have everything, friends and popularity.

  Emily knew deep down in her gut that Sara was dead. It was the why, when, how, and where that nagged her insides.

  It would be easy for someone to dismiss her feelings and suspicions because of the trauma she had recently suffered, but Emily knew that foul play was involved in this girl’s disappearance. There were no facts – yet. From the little information she could pry out of her uncle, he made it seem like the police were strangely qui
et in the investigation.

  She continued to dress, now in layers. Warmth filled her, but she still couldn’t shake the chill. Quickly, Emily put on her running shoes and then stood quietly for a moment in her room. She listened. The house was still, even Bailey was fast sleep in one of the rooms.

  Emily knew what she had to do.

  Pulling open her desk drawer, she grabbed a disposable camera, small flashlight, several Ziploc bags, a pencil, two sheets of folded papers, a small screwdriver with multiple heads, and a few dollar bills. She managed to stuff everything into her available pockets. She recounted a list from the old textbook about crime scene investigations; the list of necessary items needed by forensic technicians, and hoped that she could find something to assist the police. It helped to keep her mind off her own problems and she wanted to prove useful.

  After checking to make sure that her bedroom door was secured and Bailey couldn’t muzzle it open anytime soon, she carefully slid open her bedroom window. The night air chilled her. It took Emily less than a minute to pop the screen from its track, pull it inside, and lean it up against the wall. She hoisted herself through the opening and jumped down to the side yard. Even though her bedroom was less than two stories, it surprised Emily how much the drop jarred her bones.

  Taking a moment to straighten her sweatshirt to make sure her sleuthing items were still intact, she took a deep breath and jogged toward the school. It was less than two miles away and Emily could easily make that in about fifteen minutes in a roundabout route through the park and the golf course.

  The cool, crisp air expelled from Emily’s mouth in even breaths as she made her way around the 9th green maintaining an even jogging pace. She liked the independence, some would say that it was a lonely existence, but Emily loved to notice everything around her and appreciate nature in solitude. The moonless night and the perfectly manicured grass with the occasional sand trap made it appear like another world. It was deathly quiet, no crickets or the rustle of leaves made a peep in the night. Still, Emily strained to listen for any approaching cars, but none ever came.

  The Pine Haven Junior High School sign stood out on the road. The large wooden signage recently painted, obviously was to cover up some childish doodles or tagging. Emily cut across the lawn and backtracked in order to take the path to the back entrance of the school. For the first time, Emily heard noise. It was subtle. The smooth hum of the refrigeration equipment from the side of the cafeteria sounded strangely out of place in the dark.

  Emily stopped and looked around.

  For the first time since she dropped from her bedroom window, she contemplated if she was doing the right thing. She stared at the school. A light illuminated. It sprouted in intensity as it steadily approached. Footsteps soon followed. Emily quickly backtracked into a wooded area and hid. Of course, it was the security guard on his rounds checking doors and some windows. Emily quietly cursed herself for thinking that she could just explore the school completely alone.

  She wracked her mind on the best way to proceed – if at all. Obviously, she wasn’t going to tamper with or steal anything. She just wanted to have a look and see if she could find anything that the detectives might have missed.

  She remembered the sad eyes of Sara when she had introduced herself to Emily. They had a haunting quality to them. The more Emily thought about it, the more she knew that there was something that friends, teachers, and even family, didn’t know about.

  Emily was determined.

  She glanced at her watch. It was barely 1:30am. It allowed her plenty of time to look around and get back to her uncle’s house before it started to get light. She figured that the security guard would not be on his rounds for at least a half hour, or maybe even for a full hour.

  The large quad area where Emily had lunch only two days ago was deserted and it strangely resembled a stage ready for the first scene to open. Her full footsteps made a soft echoing noise across the pavement, so she tiptoed toward the lockers.

  Yellow police tape still tied to the railing and down part of the hallway where Sara’s locker was located made a slight rapping noise. “Crime Scene Do Not Cross” was not as official as the textbooks and television made it seem. It looked like it had been an afterthought by the haphazard way it had been wrapped around anything available to hold it into place, tattered with dirty edges.

  Emily easily stepped over the barrier and stood in front of Sara’s locker. It had a dent in the middle and was unlocked. Light and dark smudges left from fingerprint dusting powders were the only thing left behind. Did the police have reason to think that whoever was involved had been at her locker? A teacher? A student? Someone who worked at the school?

  Emily stretched her sweatshirt sleeve longer over her hand to use as a makeshift glove. She opened the locker. It squeaked a high-pitched sound and Emily hoped that the security guard would not come running because of the noise. Two books, a couple of pens, a notebook with brown fuzzy puppies on the cover, and a small piece of pink/purple plastic were the only things left inside the cubicle.

  Emily looked at the plastic and picked it up. She aimed her small flashlight on every corner to examine it. At first, she thought it was part of a comb or hairbrush, but it looked more like something from an electronic device like a CD player or radio. Since the police were done with the locker, she took the piece and dropped it into one of her Ziploc bags. She almost forgot about her camera, and then decided to take a couple of photos of the locker. In another couple of days, everything would probably disappear, stolen by curious students, or the school would clean out the locker and assign it to someone else.

  Emily assumed by the investigative techniques that the detectives thought that Sara was taken from the school. They probably began their examination by looking at people who had direct contact with her, like students, teachers, janitors, and anyone who had been at the school recently. Emily struggled to understand how the cops walked through their search. Realizing that she had been standing in front of Sara’s locker too long, Emily moved on and headed toward the teacher’s lounge.

  The dim security lights that dappled the main area of the school disappeared when Emily arrived at the doorway to the maintenance room. She hesitated. Initially, she wanted to check out the teacher’s lounge because something didn’t seem right about Mr. Bowden. She dared to turn on her flashlight and held it close to her body in order not to make a huge light show. The heavy door remained shut, but several scratches and a few deep gouges surrounded the locking mechanism.

  Emily tried the door. It did not budge. She remembered in her jean pocket her screwdriver and thought it might open the lock. It looked like it had been done many times before by the amount of wear and deep indentations left behind. The door and lock area had several layers of paint from over the years.

  Inserting the small screwdriver next to the lock mechanism, she swiped the tool and then jimmied the lock for about a minute. Emily stopped. Footsteps approached. She snapped off her flashlight and continued to try to open the door before it was too late. She did not know what she was going to tell her uncle if they caught her breaking into the school.

  With a gentle pop, the door opened. Emily slipped inside and quietly shut the door. She pressed her back against the wall and held her breath. Light flashed around the door. The footsteps hesitated and then continued down the hallway. She let out a sigh of relief. What was she doing? She wasn’t sure what she was looking for, but something had to indicate what happened to Sara.

  It took a few minutes for Emily’s eyes to adjust to see the basic shapes of the maintenance area. She delayed using her flashlight, but ultimately relented after she bumped into something heavy and greasy. Carefully fanning the light from right to left, and back again, she began to get a sense of the area. The maintenance room was mostly a big storage room with two entrances. She could see why kids wanted to break into the off limits room in order to hang out to smoke, make out, or do whatever. It proved her suspicions when Emily spotted some
magazines, candy wrappers, and cigarette butts.

  There were several lockers similar to the students on the far wall, but they were larger and painted fire hydrant red. Emily walked up to an open one and saw two navy windbreakers hanging inside. She checked the pockets and only found a book of matches from the Lakeview Restaurant. Only two of the matches were missing.

  Opening every locker, she found nothing. It seemed strange. Why so many lockers? And why were they still empty?

  Emily moved farther into the room. A book just above eye level caught her attention. It rested on a makeshift platform above some pipes. She carefully retrieved the book and saw that it was a yearbook from the previous year. Her curiosity made her open the book. It flopped open to a creased page of Sara Perkins dressed in a cheerleader outfit at one of the football games. Her smile lit up her entire face as she raised a pom-pom high in the air. There were no markings or smudges on the page, but it was obvious that it had been opened a million times due to the broken binding.

  Emily flipped through the pages, but nothing else caught her attention. She wondered if it was a solid clue or just a yearbook passed around by students. She decided to chance it and took a couple of fast snapshots with her camera. Hopefully, she thought to herself, the flash would not wipe out details of the book page.

  Emily thought that her investigation was a bust. She thought about the crime scene book she recently acquired. It described the duties of the first officer at the scene, documentation of evidence, and collecting the evidence properly.

  What was she missing?

  The suspect pool was potentially large with the student body, teachers, janitorial workers, visitors, and the X factor of someone not associated with the school.

  She could not quite remember about this area of evidence. It frustrated her. It was the cross contamination of a crime scene and the relationship between when something transferred from the criminal to the victim. The thought nagged at her and she was mad for not paying closer attention to the information in the book.