by Dianne Emley
Nan went to the closet in the back of the room and took one of the reusable shopping bags she found there. After putting the box of chocolates and other things inside the bag, she carefully laid the letters on top and closed the desk drawers.
Standing beside the desk, she picked up the crystal apple and measured the heft of it in her palm, sensing there were more secrets tucked away in this room apart from Jared’s gifts and letters. She returned the apple to the desk and again made her way around the room, looking at the bulletin boards and Erica’s personal photos. She again went through Erica’s snacks and supplies in the back cabinets. In the closet, she picked up each of the tennis shoes, shook them out, and felt inside. She squeezed the pockets of the hoodie before she reached in her hand. One pocket was empty. The other held a single penny and a chewed wad of gum with a Trident paper wrapper around it. She put them back.
She squeezed the two outside pockets of the trench coat. Something crunched inside one of them and she took out a small, unopened package of pretzels from Southwest Airlines. She opened the coat. A folded sheet of paper protruded from an inside pocket. It was an itinerary for Erica Keller for a roundtrip flight on Southwest Airlines from Los Angeles to Reno-Tahoe, departing early on the morning of Friday, April 26, and returning the next afternoon. Erica had taken the trip two days after Ryan Keller had assaulted her here, in this classroom.
Stuck to the paper was a yellow Post-it note with a single line written in Erica’s handwriting in purple ink: 501 Tumbleweed Ln. Nan remembered that was Yvonne Zuniga’s street address in Sparks, Nevada.
A bell signaling the end of classes rang loudly, startling Nan and jolting her back to the here and now. She added the itinerary with the Post-it to her bag and left the classroom, locking the door behind her.
Chapter 32
Nan strode into a stream of talking and laughing students, who were taking their time heading to their next classes. Their youth and high spirits energized her. She walked across the quad, where elm trees and park benches made it look inviting. On the walls between classrooms were double rows of metal lockers, which students were opening and slamming the doors closed. It all made a happy commotion and Nan was eager for Emily to rejoin this life. She ran into a couple of Emily’s friends, who asked about her, and Nan said she was fine. Nan followed the locker numbers, looking for Jared’s. The grounds emptied and teachers began closing doors.
Seeing Raoul, the janitor, still sweeping up, Nan went over to him. “Hello, I’m Detective Nanette Vining with the Pasadena Police.”
“Hello. Nice to meet you.” Raoul stood his broom against the ground and held the long handle of the dustpan in his other hand. He might have been in his sixties and had a neat moustache and thinning hair, both more gray than black. His skin was chestnut-brown from working outdoors.
“Do you mind if I ask you some questions about Erica Keller and Jared Hayword?”
“Not at all. I’ve worked at this school for thirty-five years and I see everything that goes on here.” He shook his head. “That was a real shame, what that boy did to Mrs. Keller. And himself.”
“It was a tragedy all around.”
Raoul smiled sadly, raising the edges of his moustache. “Mrs. Keller was a sweetheart. She always had a smile and a nice word for everybody.”
“I hear that Mrs. Keller took Jared under her wing.”
“She had a soft spot for that boy. From what I saw, she was only trying to help him, but I’m pretty sure he thought it was something more.”
“In the days before Mrs. Keller was murdered, did you notice any change in her just then?”
Raoul nodded. “I saw a big change. Of course when her husband came on campus and made that scene, that really upset her. She was still friendly, but she looked like she had the weight of the world on her shoulders. She started keeping to herself, locking her door at lunchtime, and not letting the kids hang around like she used to. When classes were over, she’d close her door and stay in her classroom alone. I saw her working on her computer through the blinds over the windows. She’d still be there when I left at five. She seemed very busy with something, but not with Jared anymore. I heard that Principal Rivers told her to cool it with him in particular.”
“Did you see a change in Jared after that?”
“I don’t think he was too happy. One afternoon after school was out, I saw him knock on Mrs. Keller’s door. She told him, ‘I’m busy, Jared. Time to go home.’ He didn’t leave. He just paced around near her classroom where she couldn’t see him. I went up to him and told him that school was out and it was time to leave. He left then.”
“Did you ever see anybody else spending time with Mrs. Keller, other than the people she normally saw?”
“No.”
“How is the campus secured after hours?”
Raoul leaned against the broom handle. “The main buildings, the offices, and each of the classrooms all have their own keys. The administration and campus security have master keys that open everything. I do too. But everybody else only has the keys they need. There’s a fence around the whole campus and two gates—the main entrance into the campus and one for the parking lot. The gates are open during the day and security locks them at five o’clock, unless there’s a special event. The parking lot gate has an electronic eye, so people still parked there can leave if it’s closed. The large buildings are alarmed, but these rows of classrooms aren’t.”
“Are there security cameras?”
“No. The administration’s talked about it, but they like keeping the vibe low-key. We haven’t had any problems other than some spray-painted gang tags on buildings and a few car break-ins, that is until, you know…Mrs. Keller.”
“Did you ever see Jared follow Mrs. Keller from campus?”
“I did, one time. He was loitering around. I saw Mrs. Keller leave her classroom with her purse and her tote bag. Jared started walking in the same direction as her, toward the parking lot. It made me uneasy, but what was I going to do? I’m just the janitor. But when I found out that Jared had killed Mrs. Keller and killed himself, I realized I’d had a bad feeling about him for a long time.”
Chapter 33
Nan followed Raoul’s directions to Jared’s locker on the opposite side of the quad. Graffiti had been scratched into the painted steel: “Killer.” “Freak.” Nan was looking at the crudely engraved words when she felt someone standing behind her. She turned to see Ashton McCarthy. He was carrying a backpack with one strap looped over his shoulder and he looked angry.
Nan met his eyes. “Hello, Ashton.”
“You told Emily a bunch of lies about me being arrested for a DUI and getting thrown out of Wilson. Stuff you don’t know anything about.” He was already standing close to her and he moved even closer. She didn’t budge. She instinctively dropped her hands to her sides, still holding the sack with the things she’d taken from Erica’s room in her left hand, and planted her feet shoulder-distance apart in a ready position.
“Walk away now, Ashton.”
“I told Em that I was sorry for not calling 911. She’s mad, but she’ll get over it.”
“If Emily doesn’t want a relationship with you, you need to respect that.”
“She only said that because you turned her against me.”
“You did a great job of doing that yourself, Ashton.”
“I had nothing to do with giving Em that roofie. The cops searched my house and came up with nothing. Nada.”
Nan knew she shouldn’t provoke the situation by saying what next came to her mind, but she said it anyway. “Said like a criminal, Ashton, and a liar. I know for a fact that you lied to Emily about that DUI and getting kicked out of Wilson.”
His face reddened and he began shaking his head as if she were ridiculous. “Okay. All right. You’re going there. You’re spinning the truth to fit your agenda, just like cops do.”
Behind him, Nan saw Principal Rivers quickly walking toward them from the administration building. “
You’re damn right, I’m going there. I can and I will stop you from bothering my daughter.”
“Bothering her? I guess you don’t know all the ways I’ve…bothered her.”
Nan wanted to slap that smug, smarmy look on his face into next week. She maintained her self-control and took the opportunity to confront him about a different issue. “You walked around that crime scene, didn’t you? And you took something.”
She saw his eyes dart to the side before he recovered. “Is that what Emily told you?” His mouth gaped and he looked up as if he was grappling with how to process this information. “I know she’s mad at me, but really?”
“You took evidence from the scene and you tried to sell it to Nacy Dena. Turn it over to me right now and you won’t get into trouble.”
He raised his voice. “I didn’t do anything. You’re making this up. That’s what cops do. Lie about shit.”
“If you think Nacy Dena’s going to cover for you, think again.”
Principal Rivers hurried across the quad and reached them. “Ashton, what are you doing out of class?”
Nan kept her voice steady. “You can help yourself by telling me the truth. Let’s go talk about this.”
Mrs. Rivers looked from Nan to Ashton, confused about what she’d walked into. “Ashton. Detective Vining, do you want to talk privately in my office?”
The final class bell rang.
Ashton said, “I don’t have anything to say to her.” He looked at Nan. “And you’re not in charge of where I go or who I talk to.”
“Ashton,” Mrs. Rivers said. “Go to class. Now.”
Nan said, “Stay away from my daughter.”
Ashton’s expression again became smug. “Or what?”
“Try it and find out.”
He turned toward Mrs. Rivers. “Principal Rivers, she just threatened me. You heard it.”
Mrs. Rivers said, “Ashton, you’re late for class. Time to go.”
Nan was infuriated, but the angrier she got, the more icily calm she felt.
A male teacher came out of a nearby classroom. Nan recognized him as Mr. Keenan, Emily’s American history teacher. He reached for Ashton’s arm. “Time to move on, Ashton.”
Ashton yanked his arm away before the teacher could touch him and began walking backward, both arms raised. “No worries. A police detective comes to my school and threatens me and nobody gives a damn. Whatever.” He hiked his backpack onto both shoulders. “You have a good day, Detective Vining.” He’d said her name sarcastically.
Mr. Keenan asked Principal Rivers, “Is everything okay?”
“Yes. Everything’s fine. Thank you.” When the teacher returned to his classroom, the principal began spinning the combination lock on Jared’s locker, glancing at numbers on a Post-it she held in her other hand. She seemed to take the altercation in stride, but it took her three tries to finally open the lock.
Taped to the inside of the locker door was a poster of the creepy Gollum character from The Lord of the Rings movies. In the locker, textbooks were standing upright with their spines facing out and more volumes lying flat on top of them. Several brown paper lunch bags were piled above the books, the tops neatly folded closed.
Mrs. Rivers took out a bag, opened it, and removed a mushy red apple. She opened more bags and found in all of them a single red apple in various stages of overripeness. She tossed the bags with the apples into a nearby trash bin. One bag didn’t have the same shape as the others and its top wasn’t folded down. Mrs. Rivers said, “What’s this?” as she took out a stack of ecru envelopes, tied with a red ribbon in a bow.
Nan recognized John Hayword’s envelopes and Jared’s printing on the front of the top one.
Mrs. Rivers untied the ribbon and shuffled through the envelopes. “They’re all addressed to Mrs. Keller, ‘Personal and Confidential.’ ” She opened an envelope and took out several folded pages that were covered with the tiny, compulsive printing Nan recognized from Jared’s ranting letter she’d found in Erica’s desk. Mrs. Rivers frowned as she scanned what he’d written. “Oh my goodness.”
“I found a few letters in Erica’s desk,” Nan said. “In the last one, Jared went on about Erica asking him not to write her anymore. Guess he didn’t stop, he just stopped giving his letters to her. May I see that, please?”
Mrs. Rivers seemed more than happy to hand the stack to Nan. “Are they all like that?”
Nan gave a cursory look at the letter that Mrs. Rivers had been reading. The content was similar to the most current letter in Erica’s desk. Jared wrote of love, valor, hurt, and death.
“Jared was more obsessed with her than I realized.” Mrs. Rivers looked sad as if she were disappointed in herself.
Nan returned the letter to its envelope, retied the red ribbon around the stack, and added it to the materials in the grocery bag. She dug inside the locker, pulling out the books, flipping through them, and putting them back. Also in the locker was a portable chess set in a folding wooden box. She opened it. “Looks like Jared had many facets we didn’t know about.” Among the tiny chess pieces, she picked up a hand-rolled cigarette. She sniffed it. “Marijuana.” She remembered Melissa Hayword’s insistence that Jared didn’t drink or do drugs.
—
Back inside her car in the school lot, Nan called Emily and told her about the incident with Ashton at school. “I wanted you to know before you heard about it somewhere else.”
“Well, thanks for telling me,” Emily said.
“Are you okay?”
“I’m okay.” Em’s voice was thick with tears.
Nan started to conclude the conversation, leaving Emily to sort out her feelings. “I’ll be home around eight. Want me to pick up something for dinner?”
“Sure. Whatever.”
That terrible word again. Nan was about to hang up when Emily said, “Ashton told you he was sorry to your face?”
“Yes, he did.” Nan paused.
“That was a good thing for him to do.”
“Yes, it was, but that doesn’t undo how sarcastic and rude he was.”
“He was mad. I get it.”
“Doesn’t sound like you’re committed to ending your relationship with him like you were this morning.” Nan was disappointed.
“I am, I guess.”
“Just so you know, I asked Ashton about that object he picked up from the crime scene. He denied taking anything and said you’d made up the story because you’re mad at him.”
“Did he really? Wow. I didn’t lie.”
“I know you didn’t, sweetheart.”
“I don’t even know what to think about that.”
“It’s a lot to think about.” Nan hoped Emily did consider the implications. She changed the subject. “How are you feeling?”
“Better.”
“Good. I’ll see you later tonight. Call or text if you need anything. Love you.”
“I love you too, Mom.”
Chapter 34
Nan parked in front of Erica Keller’s house in La Crescenta, a quaint bedroom community northwest of Pasadena. The Spanish-style home had a red tile roof and a turret-shaped entry. The front lawn looked recently mowed and edged. Two camellias bracketed an arched picture window, and in a flower bed beneath it, red gladiolas and lilac snapdragons reached for the sun.
Nan had hoped her next stop would be to meet with Erica’s parents, Mary Ann and Steve Inman. When Nan had called Steve’s cell phone number, which she’d obtained from Sergeant Early, Erica’s dad had said that he and his wife were working at Erica’s house and to come by any time. That was fortunate because Nan had wanted to visit Erica’s home.
The front door was open with a retractable screen door closed over it. Three semicircular steps led to a front porch that was crowded with stacks of corrugated boxes, the contents identified with labels handwritten in black marker: books, photos, crystal, china, kitchen, bedroom. Green garbage bags, filled to almost bursting, were mounded on the lawn. A piece of printer pap
er with “Salvation Army Pick-Up” written in black marker was taped to one of the bags at the top.
Nan was surprised that the Inmans were cleaning out the house so soon after Erica’s murder.
Through the picture window, Nan looked into a living room that had a high, open-beam ceiling. Dozens of collapsed boxes printed with the Box City logo were leaning against a wall. Vases, knickknacks, and framed photos were lying on the cushions of a couch. The only thing on the mantel of a brick fireplace across the room was a Lucite display case with what looked to Nan like a football inside. Nan peered through the front door screen into an entry floored in square, brick-colored tiles that had small red or green diamond-shaped tiles set between them.
Nan rang the doorbell, which set off a dog barking. Soon, a medium-size black-and-white spaniel mix ran from the backyard to an iron gate across the driveway, where he barked at Nan and jumped against the gate. A man said, “Calm down, Mr. Darcy.”
Mary Ann walked into the entry carrying a large glass vase. She set the vase on a round table beside the door and wiped her hands against her jeans. She looked weary but alert, far from her zombie-like presence at the memorial. She said through the screen, “Can I help you?”
Nan took out a business card. “Hello, Mrs. Inman. I’m Detective Nanette Vining from the Pasadena Police Department.”
Mary Ann yanked the screen to release the magnet that held it closed and the screen rolled up into a casing on the doorframe. She took the card from Nan. “Hello. Please come in.”
She looked polished; her short-cropped blond hair was blown back from her face with a wispy fringe of bangs, and she wore full makeup, even though she was dressed for housework in jeans and a floral-print T-shirt. Nan thought of Melissa Hayword, the other mom who was about to bury her child, and how she’d presented a solid image, refusing to let people see her fraying at the edges. Like Melissa, Mary Ann’s careful makeup and grooming couldn’t disguise the fatigue in eyes devoid of joy.
