by Lisa Regan
Josie and Misty flanked Harris as they joined one of the lines. The woman introduced herself as Mrs. D. “My name is Eileen D’Angelo, but it’s easier for the children if everyone just calls me Mrs. D. I’m the director here.” Another woman emerged from the same doors Mrs. D had come from and took a seat behind the desk. Mrs. D pointed to her. “This is Miss K. She’s the school secretary. Anything you need, either Miss K or I will be happy to help.” Miss K looked a bit younger than her boss, but not by much. Josie put her in her early to mid-forties. Blonde hair, graying slightly at the roots, fell to her shoulders. She, too, was slightly overweight. Her T-shirt bore the same slogan as Mrs. D’s, but hers was a pale blue. She gave the crowd a wave and a bright smile.
Mrs. D went on for several minutes while the restive children tapped their feet against the wooden floor, tugged on their parents’ arms, and occasionally whined—the usual litany from children Harris’s age: they were thirsty, they had to use the potty, they were hungry, they wanted to go home. For his part, Harris stood still and silent, observing.
Squeeze, squeeze, squeeze.
Finally, Mrs. D said, “It’s time to go to your classrooms and meet your teachers. If you’ll just follow me.”
But when it came Harris’s turn to pass through the doors into the hall, he froze. Misty and Josie tried to gently pull him forward, but he wasn’t having it. Three other families waited behind them.
“I’m so sorry,” Misty told them. She managed to tug Harris off to the side. She and Josie both knelt again and looked into his face. “Honey, what’s wrong?”
“I don’t want to go,” he muttered.
Josie tried to keep her face neutral. She didn’t want him to go either. Since his birth, he’d only ever been in the care of four people: his mother; his mother’s best friend, Brittney; Josie; and his grandmother, Ray’s mother. She couldn’t imagine how scary it must be for him to one day just be thrown into a room full of strange children and left there with no trusted adults nearby. Josie’s own heart gave a quick double tap as Harris clutched her hand, squeezing it again rhythmically.
Misty must have seen the look on Josie’s face because she elbowed Josie in the ribs and grinned at Harris. “Who is the bravest boy I know?”
“Me?”
“Yes, you!” Misty replied. “You’re also the smartest boy I know, with the biggest heart. You are going to make so many friends. It’s going to be so much more fun than hanging around with us boring old adults all day.”
He looked at Josie, who managed a nod of agreement.
A gentle hand closed over one of Harris’s shoulders. They all looked up to see Miss K smiling down at him. “What’s your name, young man?”
“Harris,” he said, barely audible.
“I’m Miss K. It’s good to meet you, Harris. Do you want to walk with me to the classrooms?”
He shook his head. Squeeze, squeeze.
Miss K smiled and lifted her hand. She walked behind Josie and Misty and leaned in between them so they could both hear her lowered voice. “If I can get him to go with me, you two can sneak out. He’ll never know you’re gone.”
Josie stood quickly and turned on the woman, pulling Harris slightly off balance. His hand tightened around hers as he got his footing. “I’m sorry, Miss K, is it? We’re not doing that.”
“Josie,” Misty said, straightening up and giving Josie a look that said, “Back down.”
Josie worked to make her tone less snappy. “What I mean is that we don’t believe in doing that sort of thing. All that teaches him is that the rug can be pulled out from under him at any moment. We told him we’d be here with him through every step, so if we suddenly disappear all he learns is that he can’t trust us. Also, how is he not going to notice? He’s four!”
“Josie!” Misty exclaimed, signaling that she had done a piss-poor job of keeping her tone in check.
“I’m sorry, Miss K,” Misty said sweetly. “We appreciate your trying to help, and I know that works well for some children, but we prefer not to handle drop-off that way.”
Miss K gave Josie the side-eye before smiling brightly at Misty. “Of course. That’s all you had to say.” Turning her gaze back to Josie, she frowned. “You’re that detective, aren’t you? The one who’s always on the news. Or are you the other one? You’ve got a twin sister, right? She’s a famous reporter?”
“Yes,” Josie answered. “My sister, Trinity Payne, used to be a network anchor. She lives in New York City. I’m Detective Josie Quinn, Denton PD.”
Miss K was unimpressed. Without a word to Josie, she moved around to address Harris once more, kneeling down so that she was face to face with him. “Harris, did you know that this is the first day of Pre-K for all the students in the whole school today?”
“No,” he said, voice barely audible. Squeeze, squeeze.
“That’s right,” she said. “And guess what? All of them are kind of scared because they’re going to be here with us and not with their families. You know what else?”
Again, he shook his head.
“It’s okay to be scared.”
Josie felt the vibration of her cell phone ringing in her back pocket and ignored it.
Harris didn’t look convinced. Squeeze, squeeze, squeeze. He leaned in toward Josie, looked up at her, and whispered, “What if my belly hurts while I’m here?”
Josie said, “I think if your belly hurts, you could tell your teacher.”
Miss K nodded. “That’s right. Anything that goes wrong, you tell your teacher and she’ll bring you out here to me and then you know what I’ll do? I’ll call your mom.”
Misty said, “And I’ll come right away.”
Josie’s phone buzzed again. With her free hand, she took it out and looked at the display. Patrick. Harris said, “That could be important. A police call. You should answer it.”
“I will,” Josie said. “As soon as I know you’re okay here.”
He gave her hand one last final squeeze and went over to Misty, looping his arms around her neck. “Can my mom go to the classroom to meet my teacher for a little bit?”
“Of course,” said Miss K.
“And you, too?”
Miss K clapped her hands together, delighted. “I’d love to!”
Josie swiped answer as she watched the two women escort Harris down the hallway to one of the classrooms. “Patrick, I’ll be there as soon as I can.”
“Thanks,” he said. “I’m going to be heading over to the pool soon. That’s where they have me working this week. Do you know where that is?”
“Hold on,” Josie replied.
In the car, she turned on the ignition and found a napkin and pen to take down the directions Patrick gave her to the campus natatorium. She hadn’t been on the university campus in a few months, but it was labyrinthian, and it didn’t help that new buildings were being added with regularity. “I just have to drop Misty off at home first,” Josie told him.
As she hung up, Misty emerged from the Tiny Tykes building, striding toward Josie’s vehicle with her head down. Her long blonde hair hung across her face. It wasn’t until she got into the passenger’s seat that Josie noticed she was weeping.
“Are you okay?” Josie asked.
Tears streamed down Misty’s face. She took a big, gulping breath. “It’s just that I can’t believe he’s so big. He’s in school now. He’s just growing right up. I’ve never left him this long before in the care of strangers. It’s just really hard. I didn’t think it would be this hard.”
She reached over and took the napkin from Josie’s hand. Before Josie could object, Misty blew her nose into it. When she saw that Josie was staring at her, she said, “Oh, shit. I’m sorry. Were you using this napkin?”
Josie managed a smile. “No.”
“Was it clean?”
“Yes.”
Josie put the vehicle in drive and pulled out of the parking lot, headed back toward the center of Denton. “Listen, Harris is a smart little boy,” she to
ld Misty. “You’ve done everything you possibly could to prepare him for this.”
Misty scoffed and dabbed at her eyes with the crumpled napkin. “You’ve done everything to prepare him for this. I just spent the last three months telling him everything would be fine when I don’t really know that for sure.”
Josie reached over and touched Misty’s shoulder. “Of course it’s going to be fine. You’ll see. Do you remember your first day of kindergarten?”
Misty shook her head.
“Of course not. Because it wasn’t traumatic. The same will be true for Harris.”
From her periphery, Josie saw Misty raise a brow. “You’re just saying this because you gave him that alarm. That’s why you’re so calm.”
Josie shrugged. “Well, it does help.”
Four
A few minutes later, Josie left Misty at her home in much better spirits. As she drove toward the campus, she used the voice commands in her car to call Patrick and get the directions again. Denton University was located high above most of the city, in one of its hillier regions. The city itself spanned twenty-five square miles. Nestled among several mountains, the center of Denton was set out in a grid pattern with a large park butting up against the edge of campus on one end of the city. A branch of the Susquehanna River snaked through the heart of it. Quieter and more private neighborhoods sprawled along the perimeter of the city’s historic district, leading out to the winding mountain roads that stretched like spindly spider legs to neighboring towns.
The campus itself was a maze of large brick buildings, beautifully landscaped courtyards and walkways, and blacktop parking lots that were far too small to hold all the vehicles trying to park there at any given moment. Josie found the flat-roofed red-brick building that housed the pool, and after following a line of three other cars circling the lot in search of parking spots that did not exist, parked illegally on the pavement in front of the building. This was only going to take a minute.
She snatched the bag with Patrick’s red shirt from the backseat and jogged to the front of the building, pushing through a set of glass double doors. In the spacious lobby, she was overwhelmed by the smell of chlorine. A security guard clad in a brown uniform sat behind a crescent-shaped desk. He was an older man with thinning gray hair and a wiry frame. Craning his neck, he looked through the doors behind her. “You can’t park there, Miss.”
Josie took out her police credentials and flashed them at the guard even though she was not there on police business. “I’m looking for Patrick Payne,” she said. “He should be working here this morning.”
Mollified, the guard hooked a thumb to his right. “Vending machines.”
Josie turned her head to see Patrick feeding a dollar into a vending machine in a cubby just off the lobby that was filled with various snack and drink offerings. He punched some buttons on the machine and then thrust his hand into the return slot, pulling out a granola bar.
“Hey,” he said as he turned toward her. “Thanks for coming. You have my shirt? I’m already late. Thank God no one got here before me.”
Together, they walked toward a set of solid blue doors on the other side of the lobby desk. Josie handed him the bag. As Patrick turned his back to push one of the blue doors open, he kinked an eyebrow at her. “Did Denton PD change its department colors?”
Josie glared at him. Tugging at her collar, she said, “You left your red work shirt in my washer. All my shirts look like this now, Pat.”
Laughing, Patrick pushed all the way through the door. Josie had no choice but to follow him. “It’s not funny,” she told him. “These are expensive!”
“I’m really sorry,” he replied.
The college’s indoor swimming pool, with its eight racing lanes, took up most of the cavernous space. Large windows ran along the upper walls around the pool. Sunlight streamed in, reflecting off the blue water and causing the air in the room to shimmer. Tile floors stretched around the edges of the pool, lined with benches. It was hot and humid, and Josie felt a sheen of moisture cling to her face almost immediately. Patrick turned in the direction of a hall that was marked with a sign that read: Men’s Locker Room. Josie pulled up short, her eyes drawn to the water. She took two steps closer to the pool’s edge and then panic blossomed in her chest.
“Pat,” she cried.
The woman’s body floated face down, dark hair fanned out like a halo around her head. Josie took in the details like the rapid-fire clicks of a camera shutter. The woman bobbed fifteen to twenty feet from the edge of the pool. Second lane from the right. White tank top, blue shorts, white tennis shoes. Josie commanded her legs to run, but it felt as if someone had flipped a switch, setting her body on slow motion. Everything in the room seemed to stop. The stillness of the water before her was jarring. Some frantic part of Josie’s brain howled. Her feet reached the lip of the pool’s edge. Air pushed into her lungs again. She screamed, “Get help!”
Then she dove into the water.
Five
The water was shockingly warm. Submerged, Josie carved her way toward the woman as quickly as she could, some dimmed part of her mind flashing back to the floods that had devoured Denton five months earlier. At least now she didn’t have to fight a current or worse, a surge. Within seconds, she was beside the woman. Fitting her hands into the woman’s armpits, Josie turned her onto her back. Positioning herself so that she was cheek to cheek with the woman, Josie worked her way toward the pool’s edge. As she reached the wall, hands thrust out, relieving Josie of her charge. She recognized the security guard from the lobby as he and Patrick laid the woman on her back.
Josie climbed from the water and clambered across the tile. The guard’s fingers pressed into the woman’s throat. Patrick checked one of her wrists. “No pulse,” he said, and looked at the guard. “You get one?”
The guard shook his head.
“Move,” Josie told him. “Call an ambulance, campus police, and Denton PD. Now.”
He hefted himself up and jogged back out to the lobby. Josie pressed the heel of one of her hands to the center of the woman’s chest and then covered it with her other hand. Keeping her arms straight, she pumped, counting off the compressions under her breath. Once she reached thirty, she moved to the woman’s head, lifting her chin and checking inside her mouth for any obstructions. Then she sealed her mouth over the woman’s cold lips and gave her a rescue breath, then another.
Patrick said, “I don’t think you’re bringing her back.”
Josie glanced at him long enough to see the strain in his face. Beads of sweat lined his forehead. “Gotta try,” Josie said, resuming her compressions.
She felt Patrick’s eyes on her as she worked, her arms and shoulders burning with the effort. Compressions. Breaths. Compressions. Breaths. His voice was small when he said, “Josie, I think she’s gone.”
“Shut up,” she told him and went back to compressions.
Breaths. Compressions. Breaths. Compressions.
She was thinking about the time she’d pulled a four-year-old boy out of a pool while she was on patrol. His little limbs had been purple. She and the officer who had trained her had worked on him for almost ten minutes before the ambulance came. Josie had been sure that the boy was gone, but then he took a breath. That was all she needed. A breath. A heartbeat.
Come on, she commanded the woman silently. Breathe. Just breathe.
Sweat poured off her face, raining down on the woman’s inert form. Her pink polo shirt and khaki pants were glued to her skin. Every muscle in her body clenched and ached. Josie had no idea how many minutes had passed until a rush of cool air hit her and footsteps drummed over the tile. The dark blue of the city’s EMT uniforms flashed in her periphery. She kept counting off her compressions as she looked up to see two emergency medical workers she knew well: Owen Likins and Sawyer Hayes.
Owen dropped down next to her, muscling her out of the way, and took over the compressions. Opposite them, Sawyer felt for a pulse. “Nothing,�
� he told Owen, removing a bag valve mask and placing it over her mouth, squeezing it to drive air into her lungs. He looked at Josie and then up at Patrick. “How long were you doing compressions?”
Patrick said, “At least ten minutes.”
Josie’s arms felt jellylike as she slumped, letting her rear end hit the tile.
Sawyer said, “How long was she in the water?”
Patrick looked at Josie and then back to Sawyer. “We don’t know. We just walked in and Josie saw her floating and jumped in.”
Patrick took Josie’s hand and pulled her upright, keeping one arm slung around her shoulders. They watched as Owen and Sawyer worked. Unzipping one of their bags, Sawyer took out a pair of trauma shears and began to cut through the woman’s shirt and bra.
Owen said, “If you’re using the AED, we gotta get her good and dry.”
Sawyer nodded and turned to Patrick. “I need towels. A lot of towels.”
“This way,” Patrick told Josie. She jogged after him into the men’s locker room. They each grabbed a handful of rolled white towels and brought them back to the poolside.
“Let’s lift her out of this puddle,” said Sawyer.
Josie, Patrick, and Sawyer quickly lifted the woman to a dry patch of tile while Owen continued to squeeze the bag valve mask. Sawyer dried off her chest and readied the portable Automated External Defibrillator. Fear squeezed Josie’s heart. The air was sticky all around them. Perspiration poured down her face. She wondered at the safety of using the AED in such a humid environment, but Sawyer and Owen managed it without electrocuting themselves. They were, of course, pros at what they did. When that didn’t work, Sawyer used a bone drill to inject epinephrine directly into the woman’s shoulder, its squeal just like that of a power drill. The noise sent a jolt through Josie’s body.
