Max walked around the building, trying not to think of the images which were -still- rising in his mind. It wasn't easy damping them down once they got rolling, and that double hug had given them a lot of steam.
(I'm glad Barbara's not here. Her face would probably be reaching about beet red by now.)
He studied the building, learning the entrances and seeing what he could see through the windows of each classroom. He looked at the various clusters of students, mostly still segregated sexually except for the occasional 'couple', and sometimes even then. Classes were still in session, and yet there were students hanging out in the parking lot, along the fence line, and the entrances.
Thinking cold, logical thoughts, he brought himself back under control and walked back towards the building. There was a cluster of seven students there, and the two guys among them were smoking. He had never understood the appeal of smoking or smokers, so he just walked up and tried to open the door. It was one of those doors which could only be opened from the inside.
"That's just great," he said, kicking the door.
"That won't help," said one of the girls. "It's their idea of motivating us to stay in class."
Another one laughed. "Yeah, I guess we'll just have to wait outside until they decide to ... let us back in!"
The group laughed, but Max felt the predatory gaze of the two guys. When he looked at them, his eyes did not give off the cowardly balking they expected, and which part of them demanded.
"What are -you- lookin' at, geek?" one asked. He looked almost too old to be in this school, and he held his cigarette with long-practiced casualness.
"I'm not ... really sure," Max replied. "Oh wait. I remember now. A butthead." He glanced at the smoking cig in the young man's hand. "Yeah, that's it. A cigarette-smoking butthead." He looked at the other young man, who looked more like a follower-type. "If I'm a geek, he can be a butthead."
A couple of the girls laughed, although nervously. "Yeah, Rait. He's got you there."
"Shut up, Betty." His eyes sharpened considerably. "Are you looking to get your ass kicked?"
"No. Actually, I'm looking for some punk I can take down so no one'll screw around with me. You look imposing enough, and appear to be popular. So that makes you a prime candidate."
Two of the girls stared at him as if he were insane, but they were fascinated by his approach.
"Look, girls," said Rait. "It's the inventor of Scrabble."
Max shifted his footing slightly. "Oh, such -stinging- wit." He appeared to think for a few seconds. "No, I guess you're not the type I was looking for. Just go ahead and suck on that butt. It makes you look -so- bad, almost -too- bad."
He turned and started to walk away. "Yeah, too bad and -so- sad..."
The last comment was carefully gauged, so that it was audible without appearing to have been meant to be. Behind him, Rait was caught between fury and rage. He threw his cigarette to the concrete and ground it out. "Hey, what did you say? I'm talking to -you-, geek!"
His comrade in toughness was trying to cool him down, reminding him of where they were. Rait knew that he'd been challenged. To let him just walk away would have made him look weak. Already he saw the eyes of some of the girls turning to watch the new guy walk away. There would be talk, then more talk, until he didn't have a shred of status left. He -had- to do it.
Rait moved, following Max who had almost reached the public sidewalk. Max didn't run, he just continued to walk and ignore Rait as if he no longer existed. This infuriated Rait, who broke into a charge to catch up. His companion shouted,"Aw, -man-!" and moved to follow, a follower till the end.
Max allowed the first punch to land, making no move to defend himself. >From the windows, it appeared as if he'd been sprung upon, and there were many students watching. He fell, but knew he was not hurt. He'd been hit by things far harder than a fist.
Then he started to get up.
Rait was ready, and launched a kick to catch Max full in the face as he was on his hands and knees.. Max caught the ankle and deflected it, rolling away from Rait with his ankle still firmly in his hand. Rait's other foot, trying to keep up as he pitched forward, snagged on the back of Max's thigh, and the young man fell hard. Max had controlled the landing so that he'd fall onto the lawn, rather than the sidewalk. Continuing his roll, he brought Rait's leg up, folding his foot back until his heel was almost pressed against the back of his knee. Any more pressure, and the knee would pop.
"Be smarter than you look," said Max quietly. "Quit now."
Rait swore and Max heard the sound of a switchblade. Rait was out of position to get a good slash in, and he felt his ankle being twisted, and incredible pain threatened to leap through his knee.
"Drop the knife, or I'll cripple you," said Max.
"Look out!" one of the girls shouted.
Max turned to see the follower trying to maintain his loyalty. He had to release Rait's knee rather than break it as the kick landed on his ribcage. Rait's buddy smiled with almost manic glee, and reared back for another kick. Max's hand reached out while the foot was just starting its forward arc, and grabbing his other ankle, Max pulled hard, throwing him off balance. It was harder to control his fall, but Max knew a lot about moving bodies from his acrobatics training, and just managed to steer the lackey to also land on the grass on the other side of the sidewalk, pulling the ankle up and forward.
Rait, trying to stand, knew that he wasn't over the pain yet, and that the geek wasn't such an easy mark. His outrage doubled, and he turned as he rose with his knife in hand. More students looked out the windows, along with a few teachers. He began to launch another kick at Max's head but hesitated with the memory of his still-fading pain. His subconscious mind registered the fact that his prey wasn't winded, where he himself was already breathing hard from his charge and his anger.
Max, still on his hands and knees, caught the approaching ankle and pulled back. Rait's stride stretched out unnaturally, and his other leg folded, his knee and upper shin hitting concrete. The shock of pain made him drop his knife, but the security guard who opened the door saw it's gleam as it leapt from the opening hand which had held it.
The guard recognized Max from the description he'd been given and the photo he'd been shown. He also recognized the hand-to-hand techniques Max was using, and knew many of the openings he was passing up. He also knew Rait, and if he hadn't seen the knife, he might have been a little slower in responding. The girls disappered through the open door, blending into the student body.
The guard pulled Rait off Max's back. "That's enough!" he shouted.
Rait glared at Max as the guard put him in an armlock. "You're a -dead- man, geek!"
The guard lifted Rait's elbow slightly, making him wince. "That's enough out of you," he said. "Parker, you report to the principal's office or we'll call the law on you." He then looked at Max. "Hey, kid. You okay?"
"I'll live ... and the name's Max. I know. Principal's office, right?"
"Right. Just get your bag and follow me."
Max did as he was told, and waited in the principal's office while Rait was grilled, and turned over to the police for carrying a concealed weapon. The police questioned him, and he presented his ID, which they verified in front of the principal. Several students came forward talking about the sneak attack they'd seen, and Max was neither charged nor expelled.
Among the students, he became a 'known' person, as the stories began to circulate. By tomorrow, he would have would-be friends and enemies among them, and he could start asking questions.
By the time things were straightened out, it was three o'clock, and he went to the boys' room to clean up before his appointment.
* * *
Meanwhile...
Barbara and Susan had walked to the nearby convenience store and gotten a couple of Cokes, then headed for the nearest city bus pickup point. Barbara thought a bus would be more public than a taxi, in case they -were- being followed.
It also gave Barbara a chance to pick up a route map and work out how best to get to Pacifica Memorial Park from the school...which involved several changes of buses. A taxi would've been more direct, of course, but the changes would also serve to confuse any possible tails.
And since one of the changes took them through the main bus terminal, in downtown SF, that also gave them a chance to find a hotel that met Max's specifications, and arrange for a room with three beds.
Once that was done, and their bags stowed, they changed into something a bit more appropriate and then continued on to the park.
* * *
Back at West Covina HS, the bustle of students leaving for the day or preparing for after school activities (sports practices etc.) had pretty much abated as everyone headed out to wherever they were going, so aside from a few late stragglers the halls were pretty deserted as Max made his way back to the Guidance Office.
There was no sign of Mrs. Chandler, but in several of the side offices people could be seen on the phones or doing paperwork. Ms Vanderberg stepped out of her office with a stack of forms just as Max entered the outer office, right on time.
"Hello again." she smiled. "I'm just about done with this file, so come on in and have a seat." she nodded back towards her office.
Max followed and found a seat to wait for her to finish her work. He was very patient, and stayed very quiet. He felt a slight burning in his jaw, and realized that his microphone had been dislodged during the fight, and that he'd accidentally cracked its casing. Coughing, he felt the broken microphone in his hand and dispelled it. He tugged his ear, and his earpiece beeped, indicating that it still worked.
She finished a few minutes later, and returning the file to a drawer in the cabinet which stood in one corner of her office, resumed her seat and nodded at Max. "Thanks--that took a -little- longer than I'd expected. Sorry about that."
"It's no problem. Are you sure I'm not inconveniencing you?"
She shook her head. "Not at all." she reassured him. "Now where were we?"
"We were talking about the Harrisons. You sounded upset by something. Was it murder, do you think? I asked some of the other students about it ... they said the daughter wasn't found? Just from talking to the students, it seems pretty fishy to me."
She sighed. "I hate to say this about the SF Police Department. God only knows they do a lot of good and we'd all be so much worse off without them, what with the gangs and everything else...but after last September they haven't had too good a reputation around here. Too many people knew Jeff, and Cathy--had known them both for *years*--and for them to expect us to swallow the official findings of DUI...!" she shook her head.
"And then poor Susan--" she paused, took a deep breath, then went on. "That road where the, the accident occurred goes right through a ravine. They said it was a miracle the whole car didn't just go right over the side--and they *think* that's what happened to her. They searched the canyon for a whole day afterward and didn't find her though....some of us wanted to go out and search on our own but--but the police said it was just too dangerous. Which I suppose it is, but still..."
"I guess it would be too late to look now. What if she were .... kidnapped? Did anyone look at it that way?"
She looked at Max, somewhat surprised. "No...I mean there wasn't any reason to. It's not like they were the kind of people who--who could've paid a big ransom or anything like that."
"People are kidnapped for more reasons than money.... Otherwise milk cartons would be a lot more uniform. I bet she was pretty."
She reached into a drawer of her desk and pulled out a copy of the yearbook. Flipping through it, she opened to the sophomore section and turned pages till she reached the one she wanted. Then, she turned the book around so Max could see it. "This was her." she said quietly. It was the same picture Max had seen earlier, Susan's tenth grade picture.
He nodded, looking at it, then continued. "Didn't anyone push on the DUI thing? Have another autopsy performed? I suppose there was a bottle found in the car, too. I've been talking to some of the others in the halls, and outside."
"Like I said, the SFPD is not in very good odor around here. Part of my job as guidance counselor is to help students decide what they want to do after graduation. I had ten seniors this year who were planning to enter the Police Academy. Every single one of them has withdrawn their local application. There's even one of our teachers--her husband was in SFPD, though a different division. When the findings became official he filed a protest. A month later he got an unsatisfactory on his performance review and was forced to resign. Now he's working for the county."
"Hmmm... Someone went through the motions of pushing this under the rug, but whoever they are, they must have been rushed or stupid."
"It's like you said earlier. The whole thing sounds like it belongs on 'Unsolved Mysteries'." she shook her head. "Though some would probably just say we're all in denial about it. That's what the case officer said the last time anyone tried to push--I remember Mr Lafayette was about ready to throw the man out of his office." she looked a bit embarrassed at having said that.
"It sounds way too weird." He leans forward and looks at her. "No body, but both parents were found at the site. They would have been thrown out if she had been, don't you think? If the police are that lax, I don't know if I -want- to live here. I'd bet -money- that Susan was snatched by someone."
She shook her head. "That's even weirder, though. I mean who'd have had a reason to?" she asked.
"All kinds of reasons. I guess ... I guess you don't run into that kind of thing much around here. But I used to live in New York City, and people disappeared off the streets every day. Child porn. White slavery. Designer drug testing. Sometimes just for someone helpless to knock around ... or worse. I mean, her body had to go -somewhere- didn't it? It didn't go up in smoke, and they didn't find any evidence that she fell, right?"
"This is San Francisco, Mr Summerset." she replied. "I don't think you'll find anyone who hasn't at least heard of all of those things. It's just harder, when you realize that someone you *know* might've been a target for that sort of thing...which seems to be what you're saying." Her expression indicated she was beginning to see the painful possibility.
Max looks restless. "Damn... Sorry. I just hate it when good people get f... screwed over, and the crooks get away with murder. I bet she was nice. Susan, I mean. The way some of the other kids talked about her..."
She took a deep breath. "Let me show you something." She got up and went over to the file cabinet. Opening the bottom drawer, she pulled out a folder at the back. "When the relatives came to settle things, of course they split up everything between them. Jeffrey's parents and sister--Cathy's mother...but they felt, since Jeffrey and Cathy had been such a part of the, 'family' here, that they should leave us some things. That Jeff and Cathy would've wanted something of themselves here."
She laid the folder on the desk. "This was Susan's."
She opened it. Inside was a good sized pile of drawings of various subjects, people mostly, all in Susan's style.
"There was this, too....only a few months before." She reached into the pile and pulled out one sheet, much smaller than the rest, and folded. "I remember Susan talking about this..."
It was a letter, dated April 1995, from the Matinrouge Academy of the Arts, which said that Susan had been selected for admission into their exclusive high school program for exceptional art students.
"They don't take that many students, as I understand." Vanderberg went on. "in fact Susan was the first one to be picked from anywhere around here. But she didn't go, she didn't want to be that far from her family. That school's clear across the country. But now--I know hindsight doesn't accomplish anything, but if she'd gone there, well--"
"I know the school." He sat back and deliberated on whether or not to go out on that perilous limb. He decided to wait until he talked to Susan about it first, and do a bit of background checking into the counselor's past. After all, who better to spot unusual children? "You liked her a lot, didn't you? She must have had a lot of potential."
"We all did. And not just because her parents were on staff--in this day and age you hear about so many kids getting into trouble--gangs, drugs, teen pregnancies, you name it. She was--she had her whole life ahead of her and a pretty good idea of what she wanted to do with it, too. Look at those pictures again...that should tell you something."
"You know, when some one is kidnapped, it becomes a Federal matter. You should put your ideas down in a deposition, gather your proof, and go to the local bureau office. Someone needs to be looking for her if she's alive. She's pretty, she's smart, and she has a -lot- of talent. It's clear that someone wanted the investigation stonewalled."
"Believe me there's a lot of people around here who'd like to see the whole case reopened. And some not around here, either...the family didn't buy the official findings any more than we did." she sighed. "But it was like we were talking to walls. All the police cared about was what the evidence showed...I know that's procedure but..." she shook her head. "If we did that, the FBI would just look at the police report and throw the case back out, wouldn't they?" She was torn between wanting to cling to the shreds of hope Max seemed to be offering and the bitterness arising from having been forced to live with this too long...
"All right. I've dealt with the FBI before. Give me what you know and I'll -make- them listen. I can be a real nag. But I'm going to need a list of everyone you say would have an interest in seeing it reopened. If I go into this alone, they'll just shoot me down, but with enough backup I should be able to get somewhere. I could ... pick it up in the morning?"
"I can send them the news clippings of the police findings, and include documentation of their academic and extracurricular activities, to show they weren't the kind of people to go drinking and driving. All that's needed is the right agent to get things rolling. This whole deal reeks of foul play and internal corruption. She's alive, and I'm going to make sure that she knows someone cares. But ... who would take her in?"
"She has relatives, I thought I mentioned that. Jeffrey's parents, and he had a sister, too--though if I remember right she lives out of state. She's got a son, a little older than Susan...I remember meeting them at the funeral. Then there's Cathy's mother, in LA. As for the rest--" she sighed. "It'd be easier to tell you to look in the yearbook and ask just about any member of the staff listed there. They were also active in several clubs--" she picks up a sheet of notepaper and begins writing things down. "these are the ones I remember hearing about. Someone else might add more."
She paused and looked at Max. "You--you really think--she wasn't killed in that crash?" she swallowed. "But poor Jeff--Cathy--*why*??"
Max couldn't believe she'd asked that question. "Are you kidding? Look at how active they were. If they were alive, do you think the would have let the police shut things down the way they did? They were obviously bright and well-motivated, and it would have been their -daughter- involved, not a friend or acquaintance. If someone wanted Susan to disappear, they'd have to have been murdered. And it's clear that they -were- murdered, at least to me. I'm going to make it really really hot for whoever did take her, just because I think she's getting the short end from all sides. Who knows? Maybe they'll come after me to shut me up, if they're still around."
She just looked at him. "I know I'm probably not going to get an answer to this, but who *are* you? I mean, you didn't know any of this before today, and now...! I guess after what we've all been through it's hard to believe that anyone would really see our side of it." The look in her eyes was a gratitude she was having trouble expressing. "But if--if what you're saying is even -remotely- true then please find her. for her sake as well as everyone else who cared about her. Myself included." She looked Max in the eyes. "Mr Summersett, I'm a counsellor. I'm supposed to help others solve their problems without becoming emotionally involved personally. But this--it's one thing when a child dies suddenly, tragically, by some accident or catastrophic illness. But to think that someone would go to all this trouble..." She shook her head. "It's one thing hearing about people who prey on children on the news, or lecturing about it in safety classes--and something else again when it's someone you know."
"Answering that question would give you more grief and more headaches than I'd wish on my worst enemy. I will if you like, but not here. Perhaps we could ... go for a drive?"
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
But wait, there's
Back to Melissa's Stories Page
This way to get back home