So she put the chart away and took her laptop downstairs to the couch. She opened the obituaries, scanning back to 1999.
Just as she had found the right date, her phone rang. ELISE, her phone announced. She sighed. Padraig would have been right—she had been avoiding her. Avoiding what she knew was coming.
She swiped to answer. “I’m so sorry.”
A low chuckle answered her apology. “I don’t want to hear about it. You have better things to do than check up on an old woman.”
“You’re hardly old, Elise.” She turned to the window and watched the snow cascade in a light procession to the sill. A clear white moon hovered in view—a perfect night.
“Well, I’m about as old as I’m going to get.”
The sinking feeling in her chest thudded to the bottom of her stomach. She’d known all along it wouldn’t be good news. Elise had been to more specialists in the past six months than Jil knew existed in the city.
“How much time do we have?” She concentrated on making her words come out normally.
“Not a lot,” Elise answered. “But enough. A few more months of Sunday dinners, at least. And time to find you someone special so you stop staying home on Friday nights!”
“I’m working,” Jil protested.
“That’s the problem. Try a little romance in your life before you get handed your walking papers for the next realm.”
Jil smiled despite herself. Elise always had a way of turning the tables so Jil became the topic of discussion. “I’ll come to see you tomorrow.”
“Nevermind. You’re in the middle of something important, I can tell. We’ll see each other soon.”
“Sometime this week, then.”
“I’ll be glad to see you. Good night, darling.”
“Goodnight. Sleep well.” Jil hung up.
She stood and paced between the window and the desk, her heart thudding quickly and painfully.
Elise had been her parent for the past fifteen years. Before her, there had been a string of foster homes, and staff and case workers—but Elise had replaced them all and never let Jil go back.
What would she do when she was gone?
Where would she go home to, when Elise’s home was no longer hers?
*
“Rough weekend?” Jess asked as Jil walked into the staffroom kitchen on Monday morning. She was just pouring a steaming cup of coffee, which she relinquished to Jil.
Jil accepted the coffee with a murmur of thanks, and turned to leave.
“Hey.” Jess laid a hand on her arm. Electric heat.
The touch made her nose prick with tears, and she turned away to get milk from the fridge—something she didn’t usually bother with.
“Are you okay?” Jess frowned.
Jil shook her head, trying to stuff the horrible choking feeling back down her throat. “Can’t talk about it.”
“Not here or not at all?”
“It’s personal, Jess. We agreed not to get personal, didn’t we?”
“Okay,” Jess moved toward the door, a frown of concern lining her forehead. “Come see me if you change your mind.”
Jil walked away, back to her office, and shut the door before anyone in the hall could see her crying. She took out her notebook and stuffed it into her top drawer, as usual. She locked up her purse in the filing cabinet, stuck her snack in the mini-fridge, and flipped on her computer.
She was going to get to the bottom of that kid’s suicide if it was the last thing she accomplished before she had a meltdown. She clicked on the Obituaries section of the archives she had subscribed to and entered Regina Francis into the search term.
FRANCIS, REGINA JANE, 1981–1999
Suddenly, in her eighteenth year. Regina is survived by her parents, Russell and Mary Francis; sister Margaret; and brother James. Regina was a promising student at St. Marguerite’s Catholic School in Rockford. She will be missed by her many friends, teachers, and coaches of both the girls’ basketball and girls’ ringette teams. Her favorite phrase was “When God closes a door, somewhere He opens a window.” A funeral service will be held on Friday at St. Marguerite’s Catholic Church, 1:00 pm. Donations to the Rockford Athletic Club for Underprivileged Children are requested in lieu of flowers.
Jil saved the obituary in her favorites and closed the browser. Something struck her as odd about that message. Sports teams? Many friends? That didn’t sound like a girl who wanted to take her own life. On a hunch, Jil locked her office door and headed to the library upstairs.
“Hello, Ms. Kinness.” The librarian greeted her with a smile. “I have been looking forward to meeting you.”
Jil shook the warm hand offered. “A pleasure,” she said. “You must be Ms. Olson. I’m lucky to run into you. You’re only here part-time, right?”
“Yes, same as you. How are you settling in?”
“Well, thank you. I’m enjoying the school. I was hoping to get to know a bit more of its history.”
“Oh, a history buff,” Ms. Olson enthused. “Considering another teachable?”
Jil merely smiled. “No. Religion is quite enough for me. I’m wondering if I could have a look at some of the old school yearbooks?”
“Certainly,” Ms. Olson said. “They’re right over there.”
Jil walked over to the shelf Ms. Olson had indicated and searched out the yearbook from 1999. She flipped through the worn black-and-white pages until she came to the senior class. There she was—Reggie Francis, captain of the girls’ basketball team, VIP of the girls’ ringette team. Drama club. Student council. Her arm thrown around another girl, both of them laughing.
Jil looked closely at the staged graduation photos—always taken months before the actual graduation day. Regina’s hat was perched awkwardly over her short hair; the roses looked like inconvenient accoutrements in her athletic arms. Jil flipped back again to the photo of Regina and the other girl. Arms slung casually—maybe too casually.
She wondered…
The bell rang, and Jil hurriedly shoved the yearbook back on the shelf and rushed out of the library. She had five minutes to run to her office, collect her pile of tests, and get to class. At least if the students were occupied with writing, they wouldn’t expect her to speak. Tomorrow they could watch the second in the series of Dalai Lama films, and that would buy her another day. By Wednesday, she’d probably be all right.
Just as she reached her office door, her phone buzzed.
“Hey, Padraig,” she answered, letting herself in.
“What’s up, Kidd?”
“Not much.”
“Oh no? Heard you had some bad news this weekend.”
Jil didn’t even bother asking him how he knew. He and Elise had been friends for years. Padraig had gotten Jil placed with Elise in the first place—another debt of gratitude she owed him.
“I don’t know what I’m going to do without her, Padraig.”
“It’ll be a loss for all of us.” His deep voice resonated with sadness.
“Can your old man take you out for dinner?”
Jil smiled wanly, though he couldn’t see it. “Thanks. Maybe another time. Later in the week, when I don’t feel like I’m going to melt into the floor every time someone asks me a question.”
“Okay, Kidd. I’ll just keep calling you until you make good on that. In the meantime, you’ll be sure to go home for Sunday dinner?”
“Wouldn’t miss it.”
A minute later, Buck Weekly knocked on her door. “Hello, Julia,” he said, baring his teeth in greeting.
Jil returned the gesture with a normal smile. “Good morning, Buck.” Usually, she would at least pretend to maintain civility, but today she really couldn’t muster the “how was your weekend” and “oh, that sounds nice” that they usually traded on a Monday morning.
“I was wondering if you’d had the chance to do your preliminary report cards this weekend?”
Jil reminded herself to breathe deeply. “You know I don’t take my work home with m
e, Buck.”
“Yes, so you mentioned on your first day,” Buck replied, annoyance bulging his steely eyes.
“Besides, my calendar says they’re not due for another two weeks.”
“Well, that’s if you’re handing them directly in to the administration. But I need time to review them.”
“I think I can probably manage on my own.”
“Still,” Buck insisted. “You’re new and I’m responsible for mentoring you. As part of the mentoring process, I would like to review your report cards. Please have them on my desk by tomorrow.”
Jil sighed. She didn’t feel like arguing with him today. She’d figure it out later. “Friday,” she said and turned to grab her stack of tests. Buck nodded curtly to her profile, his eyes boring into her as she turned away. Since it was clear she wasn’t paying attention, he had no choice but to back out and close the door.
Second period, he appeared again to “observe” her class.
Jil couldn’t help a small smirk of satisfaction as he realized that once again there was nothing to observe. In five minutes, her students were bent over their desks, silently scribbling their tests. She nodded pleasantly to him as he exited.
Chapter Eleven
Jil really didn’t feel like staying to chat in the staff room that day. It was enough that she’d even reported to work. Besides, this whole investigation was just ridiculous. Everything was a fucking breach of contract. Catholic conduct was absolutely impossible to enforce. Every staff member in the school had made her list for one reason or another. And who was to draw the line? Should you be fired for living in sin, but forgiven for wearing polyester? Was having a baby subject to investigation? Did you have to provide proof of your marriage certificate if you showed up to school pregnant, or was it all right to simply put on a gold band and refer to your boyfriend as your husband? Who was to say?
Too many conflicts to sort through. Easier to go out and distract herself. She agreed to meet Padraig for lunch. That would get him to stop worrying about her, and scratch another item off her to-do list.
“It’s not your job to judge,” Padraig reminded her as the waiter refilled her wine glass. “All you have to do is collect the facts and write a report. The rest isn’t our concern.”
“It’s wrong,” Jil complained bitterly. “It’s wrong to investigate people’s personal lives.”
“Oh?” Padraig said, amused. “You’ve decided your entire profession is immoral?”
“Maybe I have,” Jil countered, stabbing erratically at a piece of steak.
Padraig raised his eyebrows. “Don’t throw away everything you’ve worked for because of a loss you didn’t expect.”
“How could I not have noticed?” Jil muttered. “She must have been sick for weeks—months even—if it’s as bad as it is.”
“Too close,” Padraig said, his mouth full of roasted potatoes. “You can’t be objective with friends and family. Has nothing to do with your professional skill.”
“I still should have seen it.”
“Maybe so, maybe not.”
“What does that mean?”
“Maybe your subconscious was protecting you. Maybe you’re distracted.”
“By what?”
“By this investigation?”
“How much money are we pulling in, anyway?”
“Enough. We’re clearing a good overhead on money from DiTullio. You’ll get a nice paycheck out of this. And so will I.”
“Enough to keep things floating?”
“Aye. If that first installment was any indication, we’ll be good for the rest of the year.”
“Did you clear up that payroll issue?”
Padraig just smiled. “Worked my charm, yes. With a little help from the superintendent himself. You’ll start to get a check soon on top of everything else.”
Jil grinned. “How did you manage that?”
Padraig just laughed. “I have my ways. Seems it’s much more convincing if you’re actually getting paid for your job.”
“Good. Now you can keep the money from DiTullio and I’ll take my check from the school board.”
“It’s meant to be a bonus, Kidd.”
“Well, I don’t need a bonus. I need a job. So, keep the money and put it back into the firm.”
Padraig sighed heavily. “You’re not supposed to be lookin’ after me.”
She felt tears swell in her eyes and ducked her head. “Consider it a little payback for what I’ve owed you since I was sixteen.”
The snow had started to pile up outside the cardboard box she sat in, behind the train station. She saw his boots, and her heart stopped. She didn’t know how to defend herself. She’d only been living on the street for a week.
When she looked up, Padraig’s face, half-concealed by a woolen toque, stared down at her. “Jillienne Kidd, it’s the first of November. What in blazes d’ya think you’re doing outside without a proper coat?”
“How did you find me?”
He chuckled. “Just like yer mam. No child of Aimee’s is going to be living in a cardboard box. Now let’s go.”
He cleared his throat. “I’ll make it up to you when we get back on our feet.”
“Do you have a case?” she changed the subject.
“Two. Chet’s got one and Rick’s been on assignment for the past three weeks. We’re doin’ all right, Kidd. We’re going to pull out of this.”
Good.
“What do you think the board is going to do with my report?”
Padraig shrugged. “Hard to say,” he said. “Can’t have employees bucking the system. Otherwise the system breaks down.”
“But you know as well as I do that they’d never get away with firing an entire staff,” Jil pressed. “Someone would sue, and the whole thing would be blown to bits.”
“They signed a contract.” Padraig shrugged. “It’s not like they can argue duress.”
“They could argue something, I’d bet. The contract goes against the Canadian Charter of Rights and Freedoms. Someone could challenge that.”
“But nobody ever has.”
“And that’s why they’re getting away with this.”
Padraig sighed. “Jillienne.”
Uh-oh. She knew she’d gone too far when he started calling her that. “I promise that when this investigation is over, and we’ve got our money in our hot little hands, I will give you two weeks off to go and lead a rally on Parliament Hill, protesting this entire issue and bringing it personally to the prime minister’s attention. But until then…”
“Until then,” Jil said, “I promise to shut up and do the job I’m being paid to do.”
“You’re doing a fine job,” Padraig said quietly. “I know it’s hard for you. I know you’re working through it the best you can. Now all you have to do is figure out whether the principal is willfully turning a blind eye, or if she’s just not very bright.”
“Oh, she’s not dim. She’s bright enough to have kept her staff together this long.”
“Well, be that as it may, she’s still in violation of her own contract if she lets her staff get away with breaching theirs.”
“Padraig…” Jil twisted her napkin in her lap, gazing thoughtfully at her plate.
“What is it, Kidd?”
“Something I can’t quite put my finger on,” she answered slowly. “I just…I get the feeling that there’s way more to this than either of us knows.”
“In what way?”
“In every way. Every time I peel back a layer of something simple, something else creeps up. First, all of those kids who died were gay.”
“How do you know?”
“I’ve been sleuthing.”
“Oh, really?”
“Yes. I found a yearbook from nineteen ninety-nine. It showed Reggie Francis was an outgoing, talented girl with lots of friends.”
“She killed herself?”
“Apparently.”
“You don’t think so?”
“I think there�
��s more to it.”
“Hm. What else?”
“So many things. It’s just the atmosphere.”
“You can’t persecute people for creating a toxic atmosphere.” Padraig swallowed the last sip of his drink.
“No, but it sure gives me the creeps. There’s something else I’m missing, I’m sure of it.”
“What’s your next move?”
“There’s someone I have to talk to.”
“Anyone I know?”
“No. She’s one of my students. Another piece of this irritating puzzle. Every time I think she’s ready to open up, she backs off. She’s scared.”
“Of what?”
“I don’t know.”
Padraig wiped his mouth and pushed his chair back from the table. “Well, Kidd, where there’s a blocked storm drain…”
“There’s a flood,” Jil finished. And she smiled for the first time in a week.
*
By Thursday, Jil had stopped hiding in her office during prep periods and had gathered a host of interesting information in the staff room, bringing her list to seventy-four out of ninety-five. Two of the teachers in the math wing were apparently carrying on an extramarital affair. He was married; she was divorced, and his wife taught at the elementary school down the block. Two checks for the chart!
She felt pretty close to smiling by the time she got back to her office at lunch and rooted around in her desk for her notebook.
It wasn’t there.
She took the whole drawer out to see if it had become lodged in the back, as it had once before. No luck. Frowning, Jil thought back to her Monday morning. It had been such a blur, but she was pretty sure she’d put the notebook in there. She must have, because she’d made some half-hearted scribblings on Tuesday. But she hadn’t touched it since then. Where the hell was it? And who would have had access to her office besides her?
Her thoughts went back to the day she had returned to her office to find her lights on. She’d been certain she’d turned them off. What if reviewing that mass program had been an excuse to know where she was while someone investigated her space? Someone with a habit of overstepping personal boundaries?
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