For Your Own Good

by Samantha Downing

  “You sure you want to go?”

  “I have to. Because of Courtney.”

  Pruitt nodded and looked over at Agent Roland, who had been taking notes. “You’ve given us a lot of good information,” he said. “We really appreciate you coming in.”

  “Is there anything else I can do?” Zach asked.

  “We’ll take it from here,” Pruitt said. “But please, for now, stay away from Teddy Crutcher.”

  Up until today, he had. And he’d never mentioned anything about it to Courtney.

  Because they’re sitting in the front row, he keeps turning his head to see if he can spot the FBI agents.

  “Who are you looking for?” Courtney says.

  “No one. Just checking it out.” He settles down, facing front again. “You okay?”

  She nods, shrugs, shakes her head. That means no. And it makes Zach feel sort of guilty.

  Up at the podium, Crutcher is greeting all the speakers sitting on the stage. Winnie is fussing around everyone, trying to fulfill her position as head of the Collaborative.

  But what really catches Zach’s eye is the man straightening the chairs behind the podium.

  “Is that Mr. Maxwell?” Zach says.

  “Looks like it.” Courtney leans forward a little. “Wait, is he wearing a white collar?”

  “Um . . . yeah. He is.”

  “He’s a minister now?” Courtney says.

  Zach doesn’t answer. He’d seen Frank Maxwell at Fallon’s funeral, but he never told Courtney about it. Didn’t even tell her he went.

  They both watch him finish with the chairs and move on to the velvet throw on the memorial rock. He straightens and smooths it, making sure it drapes evenly on all sides.

  Courtney looks at Zach and shrugs.

  “Weird,” she says.

  “Yeah.”

  Their conversation is interrupted by Winnie, who taps the microphone. A thump reverberates through the air. “If everyone could take their seats, we’re about to start.” She stops and then adds, “We’re right on time!”

  * * *

  AS SOON AS the event begins, Teddy straightens his jacket and gives the crowd a sad smile. Seems appropriate for the moment.

  “Thank you all for coming today,” he says. “As you know, a number of tragedies have occurred at Belmont over the past few months. We designed this event, first and foremost, to honor those we’ve lost.” He pauses, looking out at the audience with the gravest expression he can manage. So many people. Far more than they anticipated, which only adds to the importance of this day, but the pressure doesn’t make him nervous. It makes him better. “We also want to look forward, to what’s next for Belmont. To survive, we must move on, and I appreciate all of you showing up to help us do that.”

  Applause. Muted, yes, but that’s to be expected at a memorial. It’s not a rock concert.

  He introduces the first speaker, Sonia’s husband. Dr. Benjamin rambles a bit, as grieving people tend to do, but it’s not too bad. Mr. Ross is next. He is the only one who will talk about Ingrid. Courtney declined the invitation.

  Teddy steps back from each speaker but remains standing, giving him a view of the audience. Courtney cries while her father speaks, and Zach gives her a handkerchief. Teddy hopes it’s clean.

  The wife of the former headmaster also declined to speak, which is a good thing. She’s in no condition for something like this. Originally, the plan had been to have Ms. Marsha speak in her place, but obviously, the plan changed. They couldn’t broadcast her in from a jail cell.

  Instead, the headmaster is represented by Nari Tam, the history teacher. A bit of diversity never hurts.

  She drones on, boring Teddy enough that his mind wanders. It continues to wander after she’s done and the first clergy member steps up to the podium. She’s a female minister from a nondenominational church, and she offers a prayer for those who would like to participate. All very respectful.

  Teddy steps to the podium again to introduce the next part of the program—the victims who were poisoned but lived. Damien Harcourt walks up the stairs, and Teddy shakes his hand. His very wealthy parents are seated in the front row, though on the other side of the aisle from the grievers.

  Teddy steps back again, grateful the sad time is almost over; that’s what he calls the first half of this event. It’s unpleasant but necessary. He’s anxious to get on with part two, the recovery: the unveiling of the rock memorial, followed by a tour through the school.

  It’s been scrubbed and cleaned and has a brand-new kitchen with locks on every refrigerator, freezer, and pantry. Even the drink machines require key cards.

  Yes, Belmont takes security seriously. Very seriously. That kitchen has to be the most expensive, most secure facility at any school in the country.

  When Damien is done with a dramatic retelling of his not-so-near-death experience, Teddy announces that they will take a twenty-minute break before the second part begins.

  It’s been nearly perfect so far. Nothing has gone wrong. Nothing has been out of place.

  And certainly no FBI.

  Oh, yes, he knows Zach talked to them. Those two agents, Pruitt and Roland, came to his house and peppered him with a bunch of questions— including about the milk he drinks. That’s how he knew.

  He even asked them about it. “This information you have, by any chance did it come from a student named Zach Ward?”

  “We can’t divulge our sources,” Roland said.

  “Of course. I understand that. But I do suspect it came from him. Let me tell you about Zach Ward.” Teddy went on to tell them all about his young student. “He’s obsessed with me. Ever since last semester, when he received a grade on a paper he didn’t agree with, he’s been . . . rather angry, let’s say. His parents even came in and asked me to change the grade. Obviously, I said no.” Teddy shuddered when he thought about that. He wasn’t acting.

  Well, maybe just a little.

  “After that, Zach started engaging in some very disturbing behavior. He has followed me, and I bet you can check that on his GPS. Normally, students don’t scare me, even if they’re upset, because this is Belmont we’re talking about. But Zach . . . there’s something wrong with him. And, as I’m sure you’re aware, he was arrested for bribery.”

  Teddy stopped then, shaking his head. “It’s a personal failure to me when any of our students strays so far from the right path. But what Zach has done is particularly painful, especially now that I’m headmaster. I feel like each Belmont student is my responsibility.”

  The agents had thanked him—profusely thanked him—for his time.

  Courtney had already been wrongly arrested for the crime. Did they really want to admit a second mistake had been made when they’d arrested Ms. Marsha and Joe?

  Certainly not. Teddy gave them what they really wanted: a way out. They grabbed right on to it, wanting any excuse to avoid more bad press.

  Yes, he’d taken care of that pesky FBI problem. With ease.

  He looks down at Zach now, sitting in the front row. He’s wearing the same suit he wore to Fallon’s funeral, except Zach no longer looks like his father. He looks like a little boy.

  Zach glances up, catching Teddy staring at him. Zach smiles. No, he smirks. The little bastard smirks at him.

  Teddy shakes his head no. A slow movement that would go unnoticed to anyone who wasn’t paying attention.

  Zach’s smirk disappears, replaced by shock. Then anger. Finally, he looks away and stares down at the ground.

  That’s right, Zach.

  Teddy wins. Again.

  85

  FROM HIS VANTAGE point, Frank can see everything. He sits at the end of the row of chairs onstage, giving him a full view of the audience and a side view of Teddy at the podium. Between them, the rock memorial is still covered.

  When the sec
ond half of the program begins, Teddy talks about how the rock came into existence. Years of work had gone into it, so many ideas and designs considered, but Teddy makes it sound like it happened yesterday. Like he was the one who decided everything.

  “What would be worthy?” Teddy says. “What kind of memorial would be fitting for those we have lost at Belmont? I wanted something that would serve as a reminder and as a symbol of the school, something that would honor those we have lost and celebrate those to come.”

  Frank’s heart flutters. The longer Teddy talks, the stronger the feeling gets.

  Nervousness, yes.

  Remorse, no.

  He’s known for a while about Teddy. How he lied to his wife, how he got a vasectomy behind her back and told her he was sterile. The closer Frank has gotten to the church, the more he has seen how morally bankrupt Teddy is.

  Frank had tried. God knows he tried, too. Frank went to Teddy’s house—twice—and asked that they pray. Almost implored him to do so.

  Teddy refused.

  “The Parents’ Collaborative has been instrumental to Belmont, and to this memorial,” Teddy says, smiling out at the crowd. “Please, let’s give them a round of applause to thank them for all their hard work.”

  Frank claps along with everyone else. He doesn’t look at the audience, though. He looks at Teddy’s hands.

  Those cuticles. He first noticed back when he was still teaching. Teddy’s hands weren’t always like that, not until he lied to his wife. That’s when Frank noticed the change. How ragged they looked, sometimes even bloody.

  They’re still like that now. A symbol of the deeper rot inside him.

  Guilt doesn’t go away. It stays with a person, burrowing itself deep into the soul, where it starts to grow. Almost like love, except it feels horrible instead of good.

  Frank had been willing to let it go. To be patient, to wait until Teddy was finally ready to ask God for forgiveness. You can’t force that.

  But then Missy called.

  She’s been staying with her parents since Frank decided to become a minister. He understood her decision, because this has been a big change. A good change, the right change, but Missy had said she needed time to adjust. He understood that.

  They check in a few times a week, usually when Frank calls to talk to his son. But a few days ago, she called him late at night. Despite what he’d told Teddy earlier, Missy had spoken to Allison recently. A lie, yes, but it was for the greater good.

  “I just got off the phone with Allison,” Missy said.

  “How is she doing?” he asked.

  “Not well,” she said. “She said she received a strange email from someone named Fallon Knight. She claimed to be a former student at Belmont and she accused Teddy of poisoning all those people at the school.”

  “I don’t understand,” Frank said. “Fallon Knight is—”

  “Dead,” Missy said. “I know. Allison told me. She thought the email was crazy until she heard Fallon had died. That’s when she left town.”

  He shook his head, trying to make sense of what Missy was saying.

  “Frank,” she said. “Allison is scared Teddy might hurt her.”

  What Missy said was so shocking, Frank didn’t move. Even after they hung up, he stayed right where he was, sitting in the living room. No TV, no radio, no sound at all except the thoughts in his head.

  He knew Teddy was a liar, knew Teddy was a godless man who refused to pray or ask for forgiveness. But he had no idea Teddy was capable of hurting someone. And killing someone, or several people, seemed . . . unthinkable.

  Frank prayed. He prayed for guidance, for help, for some kind of clarity. Any kind. All night, he stayed in his seat, not moving until the sun came up.

  Something had to be done. And Frank was the one who had to do it.

  This knowledge didn’t come to him by accident. He was meant to know it. Meant to do something about it. No one else was doing anything about Teddy Crutcher, so it was up to him.

  Teddy is a monster. A monster who made Allison physically afraid of him. A monster who has lied multiple times and does not seek forgiveness.

  A monster who is leading Belmont Academy.

  It cannot stand.

  This is Belmont, a school with a history of sending its students to the finest universities in the country. A school that has taught one vice president and countless leaders in business, philanthropy, even the church.

  He takes a deep breath, quieting the fluttering of his heart.

  This is right. This is just. This is how it must be.

  “And now, without further delay,” Teddy says, “it’s time to unveil our path forward. Our motto, our creed, our rock. Ladies and gentlemen, I present to you the official Belmont Academy memorial.”

  Frank watches Teddy grasp that velvet throw with one hand. Everyone applauds when it’s been removed. The rock does look lovely in the sunlight, the bronze glow shining like a beacon. As he looks at it, Frank thinks that it should be officially blessed at some point.

  He turns his eyes to Teddy’s hand. He’s still clasping that velvet throw. When he finally drops it, he rubs his fingers against his palm, like there’s something on his hand.

  There is.

  Frank can see it. A light dusting of reddish brown powder on Teddy’s palm and fingers. The powder was invisible on the red throw.

  Teddy is still talking, but he continues to scratch his hand. He must think it’s dirt, or maybe pollen, and he keeps rubbing it in, getting it all over his fingers.

  That crushed rosary pea will be absorbed into Teddy’s skin.

  The idea of using a plant came from the Mad Scientists—Ms. Marsha and Joe, apparently—and it wasn’t hard to find a plant that killed on contact. There are only a few, and the fact that one of them was called rosary pea felt like another sign: Frank was doing exactly what he was supposed to do.

  So easy to research, so easy to get. The now-empty vial is in Frank’s pocket. All he’d had to do was offer to help set up and then sprinkle it across the velvet throw as he straightened it.

  Now, it’s all over Teddy’s hand.

  He may survive a day. Perhaps two. Hard to know, given that this is the first time Frank has ever poisoned someone. What he does know is that Teddy will die.

  It’s a shame, yes. But it had to be done.

  If there’s one thing being a minister has taught Frank, it’s that not everyone can be saved.

  Epilogue

  THE DORMS AT Granite Hill Prep are even nicer than Zach expected: huge rooms, two beds, two desks, one whole wall of bookshelves. It’s about seventy degrees in Vermont, and the windows are open, flooding the room with sunlight.

  Not a bad place to be, even if they do have classes on Saturdays. That’s one big downside of a boarding school.

  His parents have left, and his new roommate hasn’t arrived yet. Zach picks the bed near the heater—because Vermont—and starts to unpack. It doesn’t take long. He didn’t bring much besides his clothes, computer, and other gadgets. Before it gets too cold, he’ll have to go back home and get his winter gear.

  When he’s finished, he sits down at his new desk and looks around. Nothing is grey. Nothing is gloomy.

  Four months have passed since the memorial ceremony. Four months since he walked away from the Belmont campus for the last time, and yet so much has happened.

  Two days after the ceremony, Teddy didn’t show up for a meeting. The new head of the Collaborative went to his house and found him.

  Dead.

  He had been dead for a whole day.

  At first, the rumor was suicide. Next, a heart attack. Finally, murder.

  Everyone went apeshit all over again. Maybe Ms. Marsha and Joe weren’t the Mad Scientists. Maybe the real killer was still out there, and the FBI and the police were still incompetent. Around
and around it went, though Zach hardly paid attention. He couldn’t do it a second time. Besides, he was a little busy doing his two hundred hours of community service. That was part of the plea deal for the bribery charge, but at least it wasn’t a felony. The advantage of having an expensive lawyer wasn’t lost on him.

  The poison, however. That was different. Crushed rosary pea had been sprinkled all over the red velvet throw. Teddy wouldn’t have died so quickly if it hadn’t been for his cuticles. Open cuts brought the poison right into his bloodstream.

  When Frank Maxwell was arrested for the murder, not only was everyone shocked, but they started saying it must be Belmont. Like the school was cursed. After all, Mr. Maxwell did have a breakdown while working there. And he had checked into a mental facility, against his will at first, before being released and becoming a minister.

  He knew how to kill Teddy, but he didn’t have a clue about how to get away with it. Everyone at the memorial had a camera, and the whole ceremony was recorded by a professional. The FBI found footage of Mr. Maxwell taking something out of his pocket and fiddling with the cover on the memorial rock. Remnants of the crushed rosary pea were found in his garbage disposal.

  The day he was arrested, Zach saw him on TV. Mr. Maxwell was handcuffed, being led into the police station, and he was smiling. The same smile he’d had at Fallon’s funeral, the one that had made Zach think he was high.

  “My God,” Mom had said.

  “It’s a good thing we took you out of that school,” Dad had said.

  Zach had said nothing.

  He should’ve been shocked, but the feeling never came. The past year had used up all the shock he had. Nothing was left.

  He wasn’t even shocked when the FBI claimed that its agents had been investigating Crutcher. Zach didn’t believe it for a second. He bet that didn’t start seriously until after Crutcher died.

  Nevertheless, they had released some of the evidence they’d gathered. Because Crutcher was dead and there would never be a trial, it didn’t matter if they showed footage from the cameras set up by Fallon outside his house and in his classroom. She finally got credit for her work.