Kevin gave a helpless shrug. “They saw little Kelly as the minnow.”
Monica tapped the spot in the file again. “The quadriplegic.”
He sighed. “Well, obviously she wasn’t at the time. Beth Irving. Seventeen. Big girl. Classic bully. Pushed Kelly down a flight of stairs one day. Kelly dislocated her shoulder. Wanna guess what happened a week later?”
“Beth took a tumble down some stairs.”
“Not just any stairs. The ones in Maintenance. Sixteen concrete steps in all. Kelly had been pushed down the steps leading out of the cafeteria, six little wooden ones with grass at the bottom to break her fall. Falling down the steps in the maintenance building? Cold hard concrete waiting for you at the bottom? How the kid lived is beyond me.”
And probably delighted Kelly to no end, Monica thought. Death is too easy a way out for some people.
Kevin continued.
“Anyway, same as before—Kelly had an air-tight alibi, and even Beth Irving herself claims she tripped and fell. Snuck into maintenance to smoke and lost her balance.”
“Thin,” Monica said.
“Very.”
“And so after that?” Monica asked.
“She became the boogeyman. Nobody went near her. And like I said, bad luck was her shadow. Even the littlest things. One of the lunch ladies accused Kelly of cutting in line, made her go back to the end. The next day the lunch lady gets food poisoning, had to be rushed to the ER. Of course Kelly had her alibi. And here’s the thing: even if someone knew Kelly was guilty, I mean had actual proof, I know they wouldn’t say a damn word. I even suspect Beth Irving knows what really happened, but is too afraid to say anything, even hundreds of miles away from here.”
Monica shrugged. “Street smarts are all about self-preservation.”
Kevin gave a reluctant nod. “Yeah.”
Monica closed the file, folded her hands on top of it, smiled. “Can I talk to Kelly now?”
11
Monica was not shocked at how small Kelly Blaine was when Kevin led her into the room. She’d been told already. What Monica was shocked about, was how attractive the sixteen-year-old girl was. There she stood, her drab attire—shorts and a tee—hanging off her little frame, no makeup, her long dark hair hanging around her face (a mask Monica assumed the kid wore for all new hellos), and yet despite the unflattering particulars, it was obvious to Monica that Kelly Blaine was beautiful. An exquisite weapon in the girl’s arsenal that Monica would undoubtedly exploit.
“Hi, Kelly,” Monica said, extending her hand. “I’m Belinda Cole. I’m a journalist. Did Mr. Lane tell you what I was doing here?”
Kelly shook Monica’s hand and nodded.
Monica smiled and gestured to the table. “Great. Have a seat.”
Kelly took the chair. She appeared comfortable—in the room, and in her own skin. The antithesis of the two girls before her.
Monica faced Kevin. “Thank you, Mr. Lane.”
Kevin chuckled. “I’m not going anywhere.”
“Well you can at least give us the room, can’t you?”
Kevin looked at Kelly, then back at Monica. “Okay.” He motioned to the observation mirror, then, to Kelly as much to Monica: “I’ll be right in there.”
“Thank you so much.”
Kevin Lane left the room.
Monica took the remaining chair across from Kelly. She did not intend to take long with Kelly Blaine; she had a good idea of who the kid was. She just wanted the girl to demonstrate a few things in order to sew it all up tight.
Monica tapped Kelly’s file. “Says you’ve done a lot of bad things in here, Kelly.”
Kelly made eye contact with Monica. The teenager’s eyes were big and brown, doe-like. “I know.”
“Do you deny them?”
Kelly nodded. “I would never hurt anyone.”
“What about the girls that bullied you?”
Kelly said nothing, but never broke eye contact with Monica.
“They were hurt, Kelly. One was killed.”
Still the doe-eyes, still the harmless demeanor. “I know.”
“Weird coincidence, wouldn’t you say?”
Kelly nodded.
Monica took out the photos of the burnt tree house, slid the most visually destructive of the bunch towards Kelly. “What happened here? Your brother?”
Kelly glanced down at the photo. Monica slid the photo slightly to the right. Kelly’s eyes tracked it. Monica smirked inside.
“My brother was smoking,” Kelly eventually said, lifting her head, “and he had an accident. Smoking’s bad. It can kill you.”
Monica almost burst out laughing. The cheeky little bitch.
“Do you miss your brother?”
“Yes.”
“Do you miss your parents?”
“Yes.”
“Why do you think your parents sent you here?”
“They think I’m bad.”
“Are you?”
Kelly Blaine’s doe-eyes dipped, she donned a face that Monica knew she’d donned countless times before. “No.”
“If you could be any animal in the world, what would you be?”
“What?”
“If you could be any animal in the world—”
“A chameleon.”
Monica smiled and closed Kelly Blaine’s file. “I think that’s all for now.”
12
Stephanie Sands, as per her word, escorted Monica to her car.
“A shorter visit than I would have thought,” Stephanie said.
“Preliminary stuff,” Monica said. “Trying to get to know the girls, establish trust, build a foundation…”
“I see. And you’re still keen on using the three girls? You won’t change your mind? Consider my other offer?”
They arrived at Monica’s Lexus. Monica said, “Actually, I am considering your other offer.”
Stephanie’s face brightened. “Oh?”
“Yes. But I wonder if we could—” Monica looked out towards the long driveway leading into Stratton Grove, towards the pine sentries keeping watch on either side. “Maybe take a walk? There’s a few particulars I’d like to discuss first.”
“Absolutely, Miss Cole.” She extended a hand towards the entrance. “Lets.”
They walked side by side. Monica expressed Stephanie’s earlier concerns—claimed that the three students they’d chosen were not necessarily without hope of redemption, but could not achieve such newsworthy progress in the little time she had to complete her story.
With each lie Monica spoke, Stephanie appeared more and more delighted. They were a safe fifty yards from the entrance now. Alone. Only the pine sentries watching, their towering, dense cover from the outside world soon to embody irony as Monica stopped, faced Stephanie, and started to put on a pair of leather gloves.
“This is far enough, I think,” Monica said.
The conversation had not reached any sort of conclusion. Stephanie made a quizzical face. “Far enough?”
Monica struck like a cobra, her fist hitting the jugular vein on the side of Stephanie’s neck. The woman dropped hard onto the gravel driveway. The strike was not intended to kill, merely produce a quick knockout.
When Monica squatted, propped a limp Stephanie Sands into a seated position, wrapped her forearm around the woman’s throat and began to squeeze, she intended to kill.
• • •
Monica had just returned to her Lexus when she saw Kevin Lane approaching. She was not sure if Kevin had seen her and Stephanie start their walk up the driveway. She was fairly sure he hadn’t. She was fairly sure nobody had, otherwise she would have never risked the walk. Monica played her hand anyway, figured if her bluff failed, she could dispatch Kevin quickly enough without worry; she could see no students or faculty close by.
“Saying goodbye?” Monica said, smiling at Kevin, her hand going in her purse as though rummaging for car keys, securing her six-inch stiletto instead.
Kevin smiled. “How did it g
o?”
Monica’s fingers left the stiletto, plucked out her car keys instead. “Well she tried once more at changing my mind.”
Kevin frowned. “Change your mind? Mrs. Sands seemed eager to me about the whole idea.”
Monica put her keys in the driver-side door and opened it, a gesture to Kevin that she did not wish for a lengthy back and forth; there was a body fifty yards up the drive that wouldn’t stay hidden forever, thank you very much. “No, not about the story itself—about how I planned to write the story.”
“You mean writing about success stories as opposed to chronicling the progress on some of our more troubled students.”
“Exactly.”
“And you said?”
“I said no dice.”
“Well I say good for you. I look forward to reading the finished project. If there’s anything else I can do…”
“Actually, there is something you can do for me, Kevin, if you don’t mind.”
“Shoot.”
“My interview with Kelly Blaine was cut short. I had a few more questions I never got to ask.”
“You want me to go grab her again?”
“No, right now I’ve got to run, but I can be back at four if that’s okay.”
Kevin said, “That should work. Classes will be finished by then. All students have required chores after, but I’m sure Kelly wouldn’t mind being excused from them.” He smiled after saying this, though his contempt for Kelly Blaine made it appear strained.
“Will I need Mrs. Sands’ approval for returning later today? She appeared very uncomfortable when it came to Kelly. I’m worried she’ll disapprove.”
Kevin chuckled. “What tipped you off? The fact that she couldn’t get out of there fast enough when it was Kelly’s turn to be interviewed?”
Monica smiled. “Something like that.”
“Well then I suppose she doesn’t have to know.”
Monica fought a grin. Too fucking easy. She placed a finger to her lips, winked and said, “It’ll be our little secret.”
Kevin blushed, pretended to lock his lips with his thumb and index finger.
Monica winked again. “See you at four.”
• • •
Monica rolled her Lexus to a stop fifty yards up the drive, got out, and popped the trunk. She looked east and west. Alone.
She approached the spot she’d marked below one of the towering pines. Beneath a pile of dead pine needles was Stephanie Sands’ corpse. Monica brushed the brown needles off the body and withdrew a digital camera from her purse. She fired off ten good photos, put the camera away, and began hoisting Stephanie’s body up from below both armpits. She dragged the body to the open trunk, struggled but eventually rolled the corpse inside, then slammed it shut. She looked east and west again. Nothing. Monica smiled, slid into her Lexus, and lit the cigarette she’d been craving all day. Things were good.
13
Monica pulled her Lexus into the lot of Stratton Grove Youth Ranch for Girls five minutes before four. Kevin Lane was in the lot, waiting for her.
Monica smiled as she exited the car. “Hey there. We all set?”
“We’re all set, Miss Cole.”
Monica waved a hand at him. “Stop—please call me Belinda.”
“Ah, but Mrs. Sands wouldn’t approve if she heard me calling you by your first name around the students.”
Monica smirked. “Ah, but I was reliably told—in secret—that Mrs. Sands would have no knowledge of my being here for the follow-up interview with Kelly.”
Kevin laughed, then motioned to Stephanie Sands’ Mercedes in the lot. “Well then we better hurry, lest she spot us.”
Fat fucking chance.
“Where’s Kelly?” Monica asked.
“In her cabin. I told her you were coming back.”
“Will her roommates be there?”
“Doesn’t have any. No one will bunk with her.”
“She has her own private cabin?”
Kevin gave a reluctant nod. “Ridiculous if you ask me. At first we told students that declining cabin assignments was not an option. This only prompted more runaway attempts. Found some girls sleeping in the woods.”
Monica gestured towards the wooded distance. “They chose to sleep out there instead? Lucky they didn’t wake up in something’s belly.”
Another reluctant nod from Kevin. “Faculty had a meeting, we voted, and the majority was in favor of Kelly getting her own cabin. Ridiculous. Kid’s a little psycho, and she’s rewarded with her own pad.” Kevin immediately dropped his head and shook it. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said that. Please don’t quote me.”
Monica smirked. “Can’t quote you on something that never took place.”
Kevin exhaled with a smile. “Thank you.”
“Can we go to Kelly’s cabin now?”
“Of course.”
• • •
Kevin Lane led Monica to cabin number six. Whether its location was intentional or not, the cabin was situated furthest from the remaining eleven cabins.
As they knocked and entered, the smell of old wood and stale cigarette smoke was strong. Monica spotted a desk, a dresser, and a bed. The walls were bare. She’d have wagered the other girls papered their walls with posters or pictures. Kelly Blaine’s walls held nothing but a mirror. No attachments to personal or materialistic possessions. Just her. Monica was not surprised.
“Smells like cigarettes in here, Kelly,” Kevin said.
Kelly lay in her bed, reading. She did not acknowledge Kevin’s accusation.
“Kelly?” Kevin said. “You in there?”
Kelly lowered her book. She looked at Kevin but said nothing.
“Is smoking allowed at Stratton Grove?” Kevin asked.
Kelly shook her head.
“Then why does your room smell like smoke?”
Kelly shrugged.
Kevin walked to the only window in the room. “So if I look out this window I won’t see a couple of butts on the ground?”
“It would be pretty stupid of me to toss them out my own window for everyone to see. Hypothetically speaking.”
“Hypothetically speaking, I could make sure you’re on bathroom duty for a month if I say I saw you smoking…hypothetically speaking.”
“You could do that,” Kelly said. “If that’s the way you want to win. Lacking in moral fiber though if you ask me.”
Kevin glanced back at Monica. “She likes to read. Every now and then she’ll get an idiom or a metaphor right. You should feel privileged today, Miss Cole.”
Kelly rolled her eyes and went back to her book.
Monica touched Kevin on his arm. “Mr. Lane, would you mind leaving Kelly and I alone for a few minutes?”
Kevin frowned. “I’m not sure that’s such a good idea.”
Monica inched closer, leaned into his ear and whispered: “It’s obvious you two don’t get along very well. I think I’ll be able to make more progress if she and I are alone. Might get her to open up a little more.”
Kevin looked over Monica’s shoulder. Kelly’s head was still in her book. “I’m worried for your safety,” Kevin whispered back.
“I’ll be fine, Kevin. Besides, you’ll be right outside if I need you, yes?”
Calling him by his first name, her lips inches from his ear, pandering to his male ego by labeling him her potential savior should things go wrong—all quality material.
Kevin looked over Monica’s shoulder again. “I’m going to be right outside,” he called to Kelly.
Kelly ignored him.
Kevin repeated himself to Monica: “I’ll be right outside. Call me when you’re ready.”
Monica licked his face with a smile. “Thank you.”
Kevin left the cabin.
Monica approached the bed. Kelly looked up at her with a cautious eye. Monica went into her purse and withdrew her cigarettes. She offered one to Kelly.
“Are you trying to bait me?” Kelly asked.
Monica
took a cigarette of her own, lit it, and inhaled deep. She extended the pack to Kelly again. Kelly took one. Monica lit it for her, then reached into her bag and withdrew her digital camera. “I have something to show you, Kelly. I think you might like it.”
14
Monica exited Kelly Blaine’s cabin. Kevin Lane immediately approached.
“Everything go alright?”
Monica pretended to be rattled. “Yeah,” she said softly.
“Miss Col—Belinda? Everything okay?”
Monica nodded too fast, donned an uneasy smile. “Yeah, I was just…no it’s fine.” She started to head towards the lot. Kevin followed.
“Did something happen?”
“I’m not sure,” Monica said, still walking, still playing dumb.
“Something did happen,” Kevin said, matching her stride.
Monica shook her head. “No, not really.”
They arrived at Monica’s Lexus and faced one another.
“Did she threaten you? Admit to anything? You can tell me, it’s okay.”
Monica sighed, gave Kevin an earnest look. “I’ll be honest, when you first told me about Kelly—your personal suspicions about her—I thought you were being dramatic. Maybe for the benefit of the article, I don’t know.”
“And now?”
Monica didn’t answer, just continued planting her seeds. “When I first interviewed Kelly today, a couple of things stood out to me. I didn’t know what to think of them at first, I’m a journalist after all, not a psychologist.”
“Mrs. Sands said you had training in behavioral health.”
“She must have misunderstood. I have an interest in it, but I leave the professional stuff to people like you.”
Kevin offered a modest smile. “I’m not a professional. Maybe a little too perceptive for my own good is all.”
Monica feigned surprise. “You convinced me.”
Another smile, confidence instead of modesty now.
And so I place you on a pedestal of sand and wait for the storm to come.
“So what stood out during Kelly’s interview earlier today?” Kevin asked.
Bad Games- The Complete Series Page 58
