The police had yet to find the body. Detective Bell scurried around, muttering into a walkie-talkie, but as of the moment, no evidence had surfaced. David Wu's roommate, Jeremy Davis had been missing for the past three days. Sherlock, flannel buttoned to the neck, a suede jacket covering his shoulders, frowned as David told them what he could of the seventeen-year-old's disappearance. Joan stood nearby, hair in a ponytail, surveying the scene. They were standing on a bridge, a couple miles off campus of Brookmont Boarding School. The wind bullied wispy clouds across a blue sky. It was March.
"Like I said, I came home from practice on Friday, and Jeremy said he was going out for a walk. That was pretty normal, he was under a lot of stress. Lots of pressure to be valedictorian of our class. Usually he comes back within an hour, but I didn't start worrying until about midnight. I figured he might have met up with some friends or something, so I didn't say anything. Besides, no one else in our dorm thought it was weird. It wasn't until today, when Jeremy wasn't in class that I realized something was seriously wrong. I called his number and the phone was down, so then I called the police." David shrugged.
"The boy's family is on the way." Detective Bell said, in passing. Sherlock's eyes were on the ground, scanning the bridge. David knitted his eyebrows.
"I really have no idea what could have happened to him. The campus is so isolated, why would anyone come here to…" He didn't finish. Joan said,
"There's no guarantee he's dead. He might have lost his phone, and it could have been run over, or dropped in the river. Jeremy might still be fine."
"I am afraid that is highly unlikely. Look." Sherlock pointed to a few scratches on the rail of the bridge. "Headmaster said this bridge was repainted two weeks ago. No, it is not probable that Jeremy Davis is in the land of the living."
At that moment, a shout came up from the team who was walking up and down the river. A couple hundred yards ahead, something had come up.
"Oh no." Joan said. Waterlogged, and certainly not fine, Jeremy Davis's corpse had surfaced.
"So the question is, suicide or murder?" Joan leaned her back against the plastic chair of the math classroom that the NYPD had invaded.
"Suicide, for sure. Happens every year. These kids literally kill themselves over school." Detective Bell shook his head.
"It's such a shame. He had such a bright feature."
"It's always those ones. " Sherlock was standing by the window. He was frowning. "Something wrong?"
"Yes." Sherlock turned. "The scratches. If he killed himself, what were the scratches?"
"Maybe he changed his mind, but it was too late."
"That would be extremely difficult to orchestrate." Detective Bell threw up his hands.
"Who says he even made the scratches, it could have been anything."
"Could have, but wasn't. If you like, you can check samples from the bridge. But I am confident I am right." Sherlock drummed his fingers on the desk.
"Why?" Joan asked.
"If it was a creature, there would have been marks all over the bridge. Unless we have a Loch Ness Lizard, it was the late Jeremy Davis." Sherlock turned back to the window. Joan nodded. Detective Bell sighed.
"I guess it wouldn't hurt. But even if you're right, it doesn't prove anything."
"Nothing on its own proves something. The facts must be put together." Sherlock traced his finger along the window.
"Did you find the phone?" Joan asked. The detective nodded.
"It was still in his pocket."
"Is there any way we can get the records? Maybe he called someone, or was supposed to meet someone. If it was a murder, the only person who would have done it would be a fellow student. He was first in his class, and as you said, the pressure on these kids is enormous."
"I'll check it out. I really don't think it'll come to anything. If these kids care so much about their future, why would they risk murder?" Detective Bell raised his eyebrows and walked out.
An hour later, the detective burst into the classroom. Joan stood up and Sherlock walked over from the window.
"Holmes, you were right. His DNA was all over those scratches." He was breathing hard. He appeared to have been running ever since he left his patrol car. Waving the pieces of paper in his hand so that no one could read them, he said, "And that's not all. We tried to recover the drive on the phone. We couldn't get much, but we got the time the phone entered the water. 7: 37." He shuffled through the papers. "At 7:10, he received a message from Amy Wong, asking him to meet her on the bridge."