Karma

by RJ Blain

  “That’s a good one. I’m going to write that one down and tell my wife. Wait, I better not. She’ll use it on me. I assume you’re calling me for a reason?”

  Given different circumstances, I’d probably like Daniels and his twisted sense of humor. “You said you’d tell me if Jacob was enrolled in the elementary school system here.”

  “Did I say elementary?”

  “No, I did.”

  “How did you guess he was in elementary school?”

  Was Daniels testing my basic knowledge? I frowned but decided it’d waste too much time to call him out on his stupid question. “Ten year olds are traditionally entering the fifth grade, sir.”

  “I knew there was a reason we hired you.”

  “Is he enrolled in school, sir?”

  “No, he is not.”

  The running away theory was gaining a lot of steam. I tightened my hold on the steering wheel so I wouldn’t punch the defenseless Corvette. “Has CARD investigated the local schools?”

  “Only enough to confirm he wasn’t enrolled.”

  “Thanks.”

  Daniels sighed. “You’re not going to wait for your partner before sticking your nose in places it doesn’t belong, are you?”

  “This is why they pay you the big bucks, sir.” Pulling over, I let my hair down, opened the top of the Corvette, and picked up the makeup kit I had grabbed at a Walmart on the way, using the mirror to apply the makeup in a style favored by teens. Fortunately for me, the style page I had found on the internet included step by step instructions on how to avoid looking like a clown. “Anything interesting for me before I start poking my nose in places it doesn’t belong?”

  “How about an itinerary of your activities so your partner can locate you without me having to remotely activate your beacon?”

  “I’m going to take a look at the local elementary, middle, and high schools. I’m going to try something.”

  “Define something, please.”

  I stroked on my lipstick, puckered my lips, and blew a kiss at the rearview mirror. “Don’t feel like it.”

  “You’re worse than a rebellious teenager.”

  “How would you know anything about rebellious teenagers?”

  “I have two. One is eighteen, the other is fifteen.”

  Daniels had two kids that old? He hadn’t looked nearly old enough for him to have any kids at all. “Did you have them while you were in middle school, sir?”

  “My oldest is twenty-one, and since meeting you, I have earnestly prayed she decides against using you as a role model for her life.”

  Ouch. I understood I was an emotional mess crammed between a rock and a hard place, but did Daniels have to be so blunt about it? “How old are you, sir?”

  “Isn’t it rude to ask a gentleman his age?”

  “What gentleman? I’m twenty-nine. I prefer satin over lace, and my bra size is—”

  “Forty-three. I’m forty-three, and I don’t need to know your measurements, Agent Johnson.”

  I smirked. “Good to know I’m not the only member of the club.”

  “What club?”

  “The ‘Get Carded Until I Die’ club.”

  “I’m a founding member.”

  “Good to know. Now, if you’re satisfied I’m not doing anything dangerous, can I please get back to it?”

  “You’re just going to scope out the local schools?”

  “Might talk to a few kids, but that’s about it. Unless kids are now dangerous criminals?”

  “Last time I checked, petty crimes only.”

  “When does school start here?”

  “Already started.”

  “Really?”

  “Really.”

  “Great. I’m going to go talk to some kids, then.”

  “Let me know how that works out for you. CARD already tried approaching some. The children weren’t impressed with them.”

  “Sir, those three are about as approachable as dynamite—dynamite that has been lit on fire and has a short fuse.”

  “You think you can do better?” Daniels challenged.

  “Sir, if I’m not pulled over at least ten times before I’m done, I’ll be shocked. I’m driving a bright yellow Corvette, and I look like I escaped from the local high school. I’ll leave you to do the math, since it’ll probably take you a while to figure it out.” Hanging up, I shook my head and finished applying my makeup.

  To finish the humiliating act of making myself look as young as possible, I tied my hair back in twin ponytails, draping them over my shoulders. I was ready to take on one of the most dangerous and bewildering elements of American society: its youth.

  I stopped at the elementary school nearest the Henry house as school was letting out. I parked the Corvette, drawing the attention of every teacher and student in sight. When I stepped out of the vehicle wearing heeled boots, shorts, and a halter top that probably broke every single rule in the dress code, people gawked.

  As a precaution, I had left everything in my trunk when I left Albany, and behaving like a reckless teen, I didn’t close the convertible top.

  It was far too nice of a day. It also made me look like a badass. If I had been at a high school, I would’ve taken a little more care, but until I lured someone to me long enough to ask a few questions, I’d risk the FBI’s car.

  I made it three whole steps before the first curious kid came running over to stare at the Corvette. She didn’t say a word, her eyes wide open.

  Cute kids like her, wearing ponytails a match for mine, always served to remind me why I had worked so hard to join CARD.

  I slipped my hands in my jacket pockets, grinning at her. “Like it?”

  “So cool,” the girl blurted.

  Retreating back to the car, I unlocked it and opened the door. To keep the teachers from panicking and assuming I was a kidnapper, I leaned against the vehicle, keeping my posture relaxed. “I know, right?”

  “Can I look?”

  “Just don’t touch any buttons.”

  The Corvette wasn’t going anywhere without the keys, which were safely in my pocket. With a brilliant smile, the girl skipped to the car, standing on her toes to get a better look inside. “So cool.”

  “Hey, can you point me in the direction of principal’s office?”

  “I can show you!”

  “Sweet. I’m Kitty,” I said, waiting until the girl was clear of the Corvette before reaching inside, putting the keys in the ignition long enough to close the roof, and lock the car.

  Since I had gotten a kid to talk with me, I could afford to lower my badass levels to protect the FBI’s property—my property, if I had my way.

  “I’m Elizabeth. Did you get into trouble?”

  “Not today,” I quipped, winking at her.

  “Did you leave school early?”

  I faked a long and heavy sigh, hoping the sound would help convince the girl I hated what I was about to say. “I’m homeschooled.”

  Elizabeth frowned, although it looked more like a pout to me. “That’s sad.”

  “I know, right? Dad’s always an ass about it. Is it too much to ask to go to a regular school for once in my life?”

  Cursing lost me points with the teachers hovering nearby, and I was aware of their glares. Elizabeth, however, thought it was the funniest thing anyone had ever said, dissolving in a giggle fit so strong she doubled over.

  “You’re not supposed to say that,” she chided me in a whisper.

  “Well, shit.”

  Elizabeth’s next giggle fit didn’t ease until we were at the doors leading inside. “The principal’s office is over there, Kitty!”

  “Nice. Thanks.”

  Grabbing hold of my jacket sleeve, Elizabeth gave a tug. “You don’t like being homeschooled?”

  I wrinkled my nose. “No way.”

  “Oh. Is it bad?”

  Shrugging, I positioned my body so I was pointed in the direction of the principal’s office while able to talk to Elizabeth. More
teachers had gathered, and they were watching me like a hawk.

  “You bet. I better get this over with,” I muttered, forcing another sigh.

  “Melly doesn’t like it either.”

  “Melly?”

  “She’s my friend. She lives down the street.” Elizabeth pointed to a line of single-family homes across from the school. “The other kids call her Skunky, but I don’t like it.”

  It never failed to amaze me how cruel children could be to each other. “No shit. Skunky? That’s just rude.”

  “I know! She doesn’t like it. She’s all by herself during the day, so I try to go over and play.”

  “That’s pretty nice of you, Elizabeth. I better get this over with. Thanks for showing me where to go.”

  “Anytime. Bye-bye!” With the energy only a child could possess, Elizabeth tore off in the direction of one of the busses near the end of the line. The first were already starting to file off the school grounds.

  I chuckled and strode towards the glass-fronted office. The teachers glared at me. When I reached them, I smiled, flashed my badge, and said, “FBI. I need to ask you some questions.”

  “We already spoke to people from the FBI,” a woman replied, her body tensing.

  I offered my badge for her to inspect. “We’re attempting a different approach to resolve the disappearance of Jacob Henry. Your cooperation would be appreciated.”

  I liked the way the woman looked over my badge and identification, comparing the picture to my face before nodding and replying, “I’m the principal, Faith Partridge. Of course I’ll cooperate. Can never be too careful these days.”

  “Definitely. Sorry for disturbing you, but I had some questions about the kids who attend here.”

  “Please, come into my office. Can I interest you in a cup of coffee?”

  “Please.”

  Faith lifted her hand and held up two fingers to the short, stocky woman seated behind the desk in the reception area of the office. She scrambled to obey while the principal led me through a maze of offices. “As I told the other FBI agents, we don’t know a lot about Jacob Henry. He’s not a student here.”

  “While I’d love any information on Jacob you have, I’m actually here about the students attending your school.”

  The principal’s office was smaller than my cramped space at the FBI with barely enough room for two chairs in front of her cluttered desk. Gesturing for me to sit, she squeezed around her desk and sank into her chair, which squeaked. “Why?”

  “We have reason to believe Jacob may have been involved with some of the local children. I’d like to find out who and ask them some questions. It might give us the break we need.”

  Faith stared at me for a long moment before smiling. “That’s one of the most intelligent things I’ve heard anyone say to me since this started.”

  “Is there a large homeschooling community in the area?”

  Shaking her head, the principal drew a deep breath and sighed. “While I don’t have numbers for the whole area, of course, it’s a pretty low percentage of the population. Most of the homeschooled children come from affluent parents. Johnstown isn’t exactly a hotbed of the rich and famous. We have a few, of course, but most kids here attend one of the public or private schools.”

  “Is there any overlap between the kids in your school system and the homeschooled kids?”

  “Organized sports and summer camps. They’re open for homeschooled children since Johnstown doesn’t have a large enough population for two leagues.”

  “Is there any way to get a list of the kids attending these sports and camps?”

  “Yes.” Faith reached for a filing cabinet, but instead of pulling out a list, she handed me a sheet of contact numbers. “These are the organizers. I have copies, so please keep that one.”

  I picked up the sheet and folded it up, slipping it into the inside pocket of my jacket. A knock at the door announced the arrival of coffee. I accepted the mug with a grateful smile and waited for the woman to leave. “Elizabeth mentioned a girl named Melly? Do you know of her?”

  “Melly? Ah, Melanie Shepherd. Yes, we know Melanie. We’ve had… some problems with her.”

  “What sort of problems?”

  “Last year, she would show up at school and try to get into classes during the day. It hasn’t happened yet this year, but we expect it to start soon. It happens sometimes. Some homeschoolers enjoy how they’re educated.”

  “Some don’t.”

  “Correct. Some don’t. Melanie is one of them.”

  I jotted down Melanie’s full name. “Do you have a contact number for Melanie’s parents?”

  “I do.” This time, Faith reached for a Rolodex and halted on a card before reading off a phone number, which I wrote down. “Not sure if you’ll get anything out of them, though. They don’t like brushing elbows with people like us.”

  “Affluent?”

  “Yes. They believe only in homeschooling or private education. As Mrs. Shepherd doesn’t work, she handles Melanie’s homeschooling. There are quite a few private schools in the area, but the Shepherd family won’t consider public or religious-affiliated education for their daughter.”

  “Any idea why?”

  “I don’t know, but they opted against the local Catholic or Christian schools.”

  I nodded, made a note, and moved onto something potentially more relevant to Jacob’s situation. “What sorts of sports are going on this time of year?”

  “Swimming, field hockey, lacrosse, football, soccer, and volleyball. We don’t have track and field until middle school. Winter sports start up in November.”

  “Any overlap between the fall sports and summer camps?”

  “Complete crossover,” the principal admitted. “Can’t tell you much more than that; all I do is clear the use of our facilities over the summer, and honestly, someone else in the office usually handles that. I just sign off on the final forms.”

  I drank my coffee, looking at my notepad without really seeing anything I had written. “What’s the most popular sport here?”

  “Football for the boys, and field hockey for the girls. Soccer is pretty popular with both the boys and the girls. They had a co-ed camp this year, actually.”

  It wasn’t a big first step, but it would help. I jotted down the names of the sports and the gender brackets. “How do the kids usually spend their time during the summer and after school?”

  Faith leaned back in her chair, sighed, and held her coffee mug with both hands. “While I’d like to say I know everything about the kids we teach, I don’t. Some join sports teams and go to summer camp. Some stay home and play on their computers or phones. Some play around the neighborhoods, but that’s decreased a lot since there are so many over-protective parents in the area. Some head to the playgrounds, but a lot less than ten years ago.”

  It matched what I expected, although I was still disappointed in the lack of an area where local kids gathered. When I had grown up, the mall had been the popular hangout. “No popular hangouts, then?”

  It was worth a shot even if it didn’t amount to anything.

  “Actually, there’s Haynes Street; there’s a bridge with art beneath it. It’s the overpass for Route 56 in Kernville, which isn’t too far from here. Pretty heavily trafficked, so it makes a good place for kids to gather without parents panicking over it. It’s one of the first places the police look when a kid goes missing.”

  CARD had probably looked into it with the local police department, but I jotted it down as a note. “Anywhere else?”

  “Conemaugh Gap; it’s a gorge along Route 56. It’s one of the local forbidden fruits. It’s pretty dangerous, though.”

  “How far away is it?”

  “It cuts right through town.”

  “How much territory are we talking about here? Is it just a small section?”

  “The whole river goes through it, and there are steep sections all around here. Outside of town is pretty heavily forested.”
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  I made a note to ask Daniels if SAR had been called in to check the gorge. “That’s really helpful. Thanks. I appreciate your assistance.”

  “Anything I can do to help, ma’am.” Faith rose and held out her hand. “Can I ask you one question?”

  I drained my coffee, set the mug down, and rose, shaking with her. “Of course.”

  “How on Earth did you manage to pull off looking like a middle school or high school student?”

  Laughing, I reached up and twirled one of my ponytails. “A little makeup and the right clothes go a long way.”

  “Unbelievable. I really wish you the best with your investigation, ma’am.”

  “No, thank you,” I replied, and I meant it. “You have one hell of a hard and important job yourself.”

  Faith’s radiant smile warmed me. Grabbing a card from her desk, she offered it to me. “If there’s anything at all I can do to help, give me a call.”

  Chapter Seventeen

  Someone was watching me when I left the school and headed to the Corvette. I slid inside, locking the door before starting the engine. I pulled the list of names out of my coat and looked it over. It was organized by camp and sport, and I circled the organizers for the sports the principal had mentioned.

  A tap at the window drew my attention, and I glanced out of the corner of my eye to see a cop holding his badge to the glass. I marked a tally on the notepad, lowered the window, and showed him my badge and FBI identification card without a word.

  He blinked at the badge and card, blinked at me, and didn’t say anything for a long moment.

  Taking pity on him, I asked, “One of the teachers called?”

  “I guess you aren’t a high school student who took a very expensive car out on a joyride, are you?”

  I laughed. “Afraid not. Do me a favor?”

  “What do you need?”

  “Don’t tell your buddies I’m undercover, please. I want to see how many times I can get pulled over today.” I paused, grinned, and continued, “Okay, I just don’t want my cover blown.”

  “You got it. What story do you want me to use?”

  “Homeschooled, got the car with my license.”