Elliot
"I'm sorry," Jamie, the girl from the crime scene, said softly when she, Olivia and I were back at the precinct, trying to find out about the victim. I handed her a paper cup of coffee. "I kind of lost it back at school."
"Don't worry about it," I assured her. "So was Josh a popular guy?"
"He's not like Mr. Popular, but he is pretty popular. Everyone seems to know him."
I couldn't help but notice two things about her. First of all, how well she was keeping her composure, especially after she had lost it at the crime scene. And the second point kind of explained the first- she was still talking about Josh, the victim, and her boyfriend, in the present tense.
"Did he ever have a problem with one of his girlfriends, maybe?"
"He had a messy break-up with Stacey Rideout, but that was a long time ago. They were civil to each other."
"Had it always been like that?"
"No. When I started dating him, she had a real problem with both of us. She spread some rumours, sent him a couple of threatening e-mail."
All I could see when I looked at her was Maureen. She was the same height, only a year younger. She had honey-blonde hair and dark blue eyes, just the same as Maureen's. I felt some kind of obligation to her, to find out what had happened to her boyfriend. It seemed like if this could happen to her, it could happen to any of my girls, and that finding the person who did it could keep them from hurting, and the victim being my son. It was crazy, but it was what kept me going.
"What kind of rumours?" Olivia asked, breaking my thoughts.
"Stupid things. That I was a slut, that I was pregnant and that I was cheating on Josh, stuff like that. It's just regular high school gossip. Nothing true."
"What about the e-mails?"
She hesitated for a minute. "The one that I did see was her saying that she. . . she said she was going to cut off his balls."
Olivia and I exchanged glances. Was that just a coincidence that she threatened almost the same thing that happened to him? I jotted down Stacey's name.
"He told me there were other ones, but I can't tell you definitively that they did exist because I never saw them myself."
Olivia and I looked at each other again. That was not a standard answer from a seventeen year old. Where has she learned to talk like a lawyer? This time she picked up on our glances.
"I'm on the debating team," she explained. "It's a habit I have of talking like that. It's the only way to keep from screwing myself into a corner at debates."
Olivia nodded. "So what did he say that the e-mails said."
"Same sort of stuff. Um. . . that she's get him back for breaking up with her. That I was taking advantage of him and that I was sleeping around. She went as far as including a list. He knew she was lying. He knew that she was just blowing off steam."
Olivia stumbled with her words a bit. "Did. . . were. . . was any of that true?"
Jamie took it well. "No," she answered calmly.
"Does Stacey go to your school?"
"Yeah." She hesitated before continuing. "How. . . how did Josh die?"
I didn't know whether to answer tell her or not. After contemplating for a minute, I decided against it. Olivia, on the other hand, didn't.
"Nothing's confirmed until the autopsy, but it looks like he was stabbed.
She took a deep breath and looked down, concentrating on her coffee cup.
"How long had the two of you been dating?" Olivia asked gently.
"A year tomorrow. We met last year at a party and started dating. We just clicked, you know?"
"Did he mention anything being wrong?"
She shook her head. "It's his senior year. He's been so happy lately."
"Jamie?" Olivia began softly. "Did Josh ever do drugs?"
"Never," she answered quickly.
"Have you ever seen anything that would make you think that he's involved with drugs?"
"Never. Between school, work and parties, I don't know when he'd have the time."
"We're having a bit of trouble locating his parents. Do you know where we could find them?"
Guilt flooded over her face. "I didn't even think of them."
"It's okay, we'll take care of it," I told her. "We just need to know where we can find them."
"Um. . . his mom works at Lexington Ad Agency. His dad's some wall street hotshot. Usually one or the other's out on business. He mentioned something about having the house to himself for the week. I guess they're both away. I really don't know what else to tell you. He didn't talk about them much."
"Did he get along with them?"
"As well as any other teenage boy. Nothing special. I guess they seemed to be gone a lot."
"Did he have any brothers or sisters?"
"He has an older brother, James. He works somewhere out in Queens."
"How did he and Josh get along?"
"Not very well. James was involved with drugs for awhile, which is one of the big reasons that Josh doesn't do them, and they never really got close. I guess. . . I guess they never will."
"Is there anyone we can call for you?" Olivia asked.
She shook her head. "My parents are out of town and I'd prefer they don't know. I just. . . I just can't process all this right now. I don't know what I'm supposed to be doing. . . what I'm supposed to be feeling. It. . . it doesn't feel like he's gone." Her voice started cracking. She took a deep breath and continued in a hollow. "I just feel really. . . it's like I'm looking in on someone else's life."
There was a knock on the door and the Captain stuck his head in. "Olivia?" She got up and followed him out of the room. Only the two of us were left.
"There's no right or wrong way to be feeling right now. It's not like there's a written exam at the end. Just take it one step at a time. You'll feel everything at one point or another."
"Please find out who did this," she asked softly, lifting her head up to look at me. I saw for the first time that tears were streaming down her face silently. She didn't wipe them away. She barely noticed them. "Josh's such an amazing person who had everything going for him. And now someone just takes it away. Please make sure that he doesn't get away with it."
"I will," I promised her. "I will."
Fin
"This is awful," Frank Neivens, the school's principal said, closing his office door. "Are you sure it was Josh?"
"We've got an ID from his girlfriend and the fingerprints matched. Did Josh have any discipline problems?" Munch asked.
"The only thing I can think of is a fight he got into three weeks ago. Otherwise, I've never had a problem with him."
"Do you know who the fight was with?" I asked. "Or what it was about?"
"It was with Danny Cannon. I'm not sure exactly about what. I got the feeling it was about his girlfriend."
"What makes you say that?"
"Danny's been bugging her for awhile. Josh hadn't had any problems before, so his girlfriend's the only thing that makes sense."
"Can we see his school records?" Munch piped up behind me.
"We need written permission from him," he began, before realizing that he was talking about someone no longer living. "I guess this is okay."
"We'd also like to see Danny and his girlfriend's records."
"I'm sorry, I'm not allowed to do that," he told us without a trace of sincerity in his voice. Munch raised his eyebrows. "But we can grant an exception this one time."
"We're also going to need to talk to Josh's teachers and friends."
Frank nodded., pulling out some files. "I'll get you a copy of his schedule as well."
"Thank you," Munch said, taking the files, with the same amount of sincerity.
"Do you need to see his locker?"
"Yes."
Frank nodded again, printing out something from his computer. "This is his schedule. Classes are kind of mixed up today, but they should be in the rooms that they say on the sheet. If there's anything else, just asked.
"Thanks," I barely had time to say before he slammed the door in our faces.
"Hair colour, eye colour, fingerprints, medical history. . . still think Big Brother isn't watching?"
"Get off your paranoia for a minute and help me solve this case."
"Where to first, boss?"
"His locker. Who knows, maybe we'll get lucky."
"You got wire cutters with you?"
"No. Why?"
"Well, Mr. Principal forgot to give us his locker combination."
"It's at the top of the page, genius. What's his locker number?"
"467."
"463, 465. . . Here we go, 467." I stopped abruptly when I saw the mini-monument that was in front of his locker. A picture of the victim was surrounded by candles and flowers. Groups of people were standing nearby. Some were quiet, some were crying. They all looked at us like we were from a different galaxy.
"17- 42- 52," he told me. I turned the lock and tugged. It clicked and opened. People were slowly leaving the area. I opened the locker.
"Pretty girl," Munch commented, seeing the pictures inside. They were mostly of him with a blond-haired blue-eyed girl. Some were of her alone, and a few had other people in them, but mostly it was the two of them.
"Is that the girlfriend?" I asked. Munch opened the folder marked with her name.
"Jamie Lynn Garner. That's her."
I pulled a pair of latex gloves out of my pocket. "Do you have an evidence bag?"
"What'd you find," he asked, handing me a huge one.
"Nothing. I'm just going to bag everything and go through it back at the station."
"We don't have a warrant," he reminded me.
"We've got the principal's permission. Locker technically belongs to the school."
"But the contents don't."
"I don't think that the victim's going to protest to much."
"I'm sorry," Jamie, the girl from the crime scene, said softly when she, Olivia and I were back at the precinct, trying to find out about the victim. I handed her a paper cup of coffee. "I kind of lost it back at school."
"Don't worry about it," I assured her. "So was Josh a popular guy?"
"He's not like Mr. Popular, but he is pretty popular. Everyone seems to know him."
I couldn't help but notice two things about her. First of all, how well she was keeping her composure, especially after she had lost it at the crime scene. And the second point kind of explained the first- she was still talking about Josh, the victim, and her boyfriend, in the present tense.
"Did he ever have a problem with one of his girlfriends, maybe?"
"He had a messy break-up with Stacey Rideout, but that was a long time ago. They were civil to each other."
"Had it always been like that?"
"No. When I started dating him, she had a real problem with both of us. She spread some rumours, sent him a couple of threatening e-mail."
All I could see when I looked at her was Maureen. She was the same height, only a year younger. She had honey-blonde hair and dark blue eyes, just the same as Maureen's. I felt some kind of obligation to her, to find out what had happened to her boyfriend. It seemed like if this could happen to her, it could happen to any of my girls, and that finding the person who did it could keep them from hurting, and the victim being my son. It was crazy, but it was what kept me going.
"What kind of rumours?" Olivia asked, breaking my thoughts.
"Stupid things. That I was a slut, that I was pregnant and that I was cheating on Josh, stuff like that. It's just regular high school gossip. Nothing true."
"What about the e-mails?"
She hesitated for a minute. "The one that I did see was her saying that she. . . she said she was going to cut off his balls."
Olivia and I exchanged glances. Was that just a coincidence that she threatened almost the same thing that happened to him? I jotted down Stacey's name.
"He told me there were other ones, but I can't tell you definitively that they did exist because I never saw them myself."
Olivia and I looked at each other again. That was not a standard answer from a seventeen year old. Where has she learned to talk like a lawyer? This time she picked up on our glances.
"I'm on the debating team," she explained. "It's a habit I have of talking like that. It's the only way to keep from screwing myself into a corner at debates."
Olivia nodded. "So what did he say that the e-mails said."
"Same sort of stuff. Um. . . that she's get him back for breaking up with her. That I was taking advantage of him and that I was sleeping around. She went as far as including a list. He knew she was lying. He knew that she was just blowing off steam."
Olivia stumbled with her words a bit. "Did. . . were. . . was any of that true?"
Jamie took it well. "No," she answered calmly.
"Does Stacey go to your school?"
"Yeah." She hesitated before continuing. "How. . . how did Josh die?"
I didn't know whether to answer tell her or not. After contemplating for a minute, I decided against it. Olivia, on the other hand, didn't.
"Nothing's confirmed until the autopsy, but it looks like he was stabbed.
She took a deep breath and looked down, concentrating on her coffee cup.
"How long had the two of you been dating?" Olivia asked gently.
"A year tomorrow. We met last year at a party and started dating. We just clicked, you know?"
"Did he mention anything being wrong?"
She shook her head. "It's his senior year. He's been so happy lately."
"Jamie?" Olivia began softly. "Did Josh ever do drugs?"
"Never," she answered quickly.
"Have you ever seen anything that would make you think that he's involved with drugs?"
"Never. Between school, work and parties, I don't know when he'd have the time."
"We're having a bit of trouble locating his parents. Do you know where we could find them?"
Guilt flooded over her face. "I didn't even think of them."
"It's okay, we'll take care of it," I told her. "We just need to know where we can find them."
"Um. . . his mom works at Lexington Ad Agency. His dad's some wall street hotshot. Usually one or the other's out on business. He mentioned something about having the house to himself for the week. I guess they're both away. I really don't know what else to tell you. He didn't talk about them much."
"Did he get along with them?"
"As well as any other teenage boy. Nothing special. I guess they seemed to be gone a lot."
"Did he have any brothers or sisters?"
"He has an older brother, James. He works somewhere out in Queens."
"How did he and Josh get along?"
"Not very well. James was involved with drugs for awhile, which is one of the big reasons that Josh doesn't do them, and they never really got close. I guess. . . I guess they never will."
"Is there anyone we can call for you?" Olivia asked.
She shook her head. "My parents are out of town and I'd prefer they don't know. I just. . . I just can't process all this right now. I don't know what I'm supposed to be doing. . . what I'm supposed to be feeling. It. . . it doesn't feel like he's gone." Her voice started cracking. She took a deep breath and continued in a hollow. "I just feel really. . . it's like I'm looking in on someone else's life."
There was a knock on the door and the Captain stuck his head in. "Olivia?" She got up and followed him out of the room. Only the two of us were left.
"There's no right or wrong way to be feeling right now. It's not like there's a written exam at the end. Just take it one step at a time. You'll feel everything at one point or another."
"Please find out who did this," she asked softly, lifting her head up to look at me. I saw for the first time that tears were streaming down her face silently. She didn't wipe them away. She barely noticed them. "Josh's such an amazing person who had everything going for him. And now someone just takes it away. Please make sure that he doesn't get away with it."
"I will," I promised her. "I will."
Fin
"This is awful," Frank Neivens, the school's principal said, closing his office door. "Are you sure it was Josh?"
"We've got an ID from his girlfriend and the fingerprints matched. Did Josh have any discipline problems?" Munch asked.
"The only thing I can think of is a fight he got into three weeks ago. Otherwise, I've never had a problem with him."
"Do you know who the fight was with?" I asked. "Or what it was about?"
"It was with Danny Cannon. I'm not sure exactly about what. I got the feeling it was about his girlfriend."
"What makes you say that?"
"Danny's been bugging her for awhile. Josh hadn't had any problems before, so his girlfriend's the only thing that makes sense."
"Can we see his school records?" Munch piped up behind me.
"We need written permission from him," he began, before realizing that he was talking about someone no longer living. "I guess this is okay."
"We'd also like to see Danny and his girlfriend's records."
"I'm sorry, I'm not allowed to do that," he told us without a trace of sincerity in his voice. Munch raised his eyebrows. "But we can grant an exception this one time."
"We're also going to need to talk to Josh's teachers and friends."
Frank nodded., pulling out some files. "I'll get you a copy of his schedule as well."
"Thank you," Munch said, taking the files, with the same amount of sincerity.
"Do you need to see his locker?"
"Yes."
Frank nodded again, printing out something from his computer. "This is his schedule. Classes are kind of mixed up today, but they should be in the rooms that they say on the sheet. If there's anything else, just asked.
"Thanks," I barely had time to say before he slammed the door in our faces.
"Hair colour, eye colour, fingerprints, medical history. . . still think Big Brother isn't watching?"
"Get off your paranoia for a minute and help me solve this case."
"Where to first, boss?"
"His locker. Who knows, maybe we'll get lucky."
"You got wire cutters with you?"
"No. Why?"
"Well, Mr. Principal forgot to give us his locker combination."
"It's at the top of the page, genius. What's his locker number?"
"467."
"463, 465. . . Here we go, 467." I stopped abruptly when I saw the mini-monument that was in front of his locker. A picture of the victim was surrounded by candles and flowers. Groups of people were standing nearby. Some were quiet, some were crying. They all looked at us like we were from a different galaxy.
"17- 42- 52," he told me. I turned the lock and tugged. It clicked and opened. People were slowly leaving the area. I opened the locker.
"Pretty girl," Munch commented, seeing the pictures inside. They were mostly of him with a blond-haired blue-eyed girl. Some were of her alone, and a few had other people in them, but mostly it was the two of them.
"Is that the girlfriend?" I asked. Munch opened the folder marked with her name.
"Jamie Lynn Garner. That's her."
I pulled a pair of latex gloves out of my pocket. "Do you have an evidence bag?"
"What'd you find," he asked, handing me a huge one.
"Nothing. I'm just going to bag everything and go through it back at the station."
"We don't have a warrant," he reminded me.
"We've got the principal's permission. Locker technically belongs to the school."
"But the contents don't."
"I don't think that the victim's going to protest to much."