Hunt for a Phantom

by Stephen L Brooks

  Dana finally surrendered the cell. “My parents both work late. They don’t get off until five.”

  “I can stay late,” Ms Gilbert said. Dana knew that was true; though quite attractive, as even Dana grudgingly admitted, Ms Gilbert was single and apparently had little or no social life. She had nothing to go home to; not even a cat. Ms Gilbert could stay all night and into the next morning, if she had too. She probably even had a change of clothing in the classroom book closet, just for such occasions. “And certainly you have homework you can do. In fact, since you’ve obviously missed everything I’ve said so far and the class is nearly over, you can be my captive audience while I give today’s lecture all over again, just for your benefit.”

  Dana’s enthusiasm at that prospect, you can imagine, knew no bounds. “Maybe I can get a ride home with some friends.”

  “I’d rather meet with your parents; but perhaps another time. You know, of course, that your home phone number is in our records. Maybe if they can’t come today I’ll call them tonight.”

  Dana had some words to say to Ms Gilbert but they would get her in deeper trouble. The cell might end up in the principal’s office and her parents would definitely be called if she didn’t drop it.

  Her mind concentrated now on who might give her a ride home.

  * * *

  Dana came to Ms Gilbert’s classroom and went right up to her desk, holding out her hand in deliberate mimicry of the teacher’s actions in confiscating her cell earlier. Ms Gilbert regarded her a long moment. Dana knew that her cell was locked into the teacher’s desk. She also knew she was about to get a lecture. She withdrew her hand and let it hang at her side.

  “What was the message that was so much more important than my lesson?”

  “That’s private,” Dana said, her temper rising in spite of her vow to control it. “You don’t have any right to ask me that.”

  Ms Gilbert shrugged. “In my day...” (Dana rolled her eyes at the ceiling) “...teachers had all the rights and the students had very few. I passed a few notes to my friends in my day, to girls and to boys too. And if I was caught doing it, I was punished.” She seemed to be considering whether to elaborate, and did. “Of course, we teachers today don’t have as much authority as we did then.”

  “Cheers for our side,” Dana said wryly.

  “Don’t count that as a victory for ‘your side,’ Dana. We’ve been stripped of some authority and somehow abdicated others. And in spite of what you may think, that’s not a good thing for you and your friends.”

  “It’s all right far as I’m concerned.”

  “I didn’t check your messages, though I could have,” Ms Gilbert continued. “As I said, I’ve been there; and I respect your privacy to that point anyway.” She leaned forward and peered at Dana earnestly. “I was hoping, though, that you’d tell me of your own volition.”

  “You can take your version of respecting my privacy and you know where you can stick it.” Dana raised her bravado like a shield and hoped it had no cracks in it.

  Ms Gilbert looked like she was about to retaliate but thought better of it. Dana smiled to see she had evidently won the staring match. The teacher, in what was obviously a carefully controlled silence, unlocked a drawer and took out the cell. Dana put out her hand again.

  “I’ll return it this time, and send you home. The lesson today was on Chapter Twenty. Read it, write a report on it and have it on my desk by end of day tomorrow.”

  “Ms Gilbert!”

  “If you don’t, you get a zero for today. That counts as an automatic five points off your next quiz, no matter how well or poorly you do on it.”

  Dana snatched the cell from Ms Gilbert’s hand. Further words were waiting, but she withheld them; she’d gotten off easily and her first wise decision of the day was to let well enough alone. She stuffed the cell in her bag and turned to the door.

  Rick Fleming and Gail Porter were standing in the hall. They looked like they’d been there a while. When they saw Dana was ready to leave they stepped just inside the doorway.

  Dana turned and strode quickly to the rear door of the classroom, hoping to elude them. Gail jogged after her and caught her by the arm. Dana jerked her arm away, her fist ready.

  “You wanna have that fight we almost had the other day?” she said. “Cause I’m sure in the mood for one.”

  “No, I don’t want to fight with you,” Gail answered as Rick joined them.

  Dana expelled a deep breath, and with it at least some of her anger. “How much of that did you hear?”

  “Most of it,” Rick said. “You were using your cell phone in class?”

  “Yeah, and Gilbert took it from me.”

  “She has a right to do that,” Gail said.

  “What about my rights?”

  “You know the rules,” Gail said. “No cell phones in class.”

  “Since when are you Miss Goody-Two-Shoes?”

  “I’m not, believe me. But Gilbert was just following the rules.” She gestured with a flick of her head for Rick to step aside. “Who was the message from?”

  “Why do you think I got a message?”

  “Okay; who did you send a message to?”

  “What business of it is yours?” Dana started to turn away.

  “Maybe I can help.” She put a hand on Dana’s shoulder and steered her toward a nearby Girl’s Room. Dana shrunk away at first but all her outer defenses suddenly crumpled and she nodded acquiescence as she stepped into the rest room. Gail signaled Rick to wait and followed her in.

  The room smelled of urine, feces, and cigarette smoke; a repulsive formula, but typical in every rest room in every school throughout the country. It was something they had come to tolerate as just as much a part of the environment as textbooks.

  “All right. You want me to tell you?” Dana said.

  “Yes.”

  “I was sexting.” Dana almost whispered it; whether to avoid spying ears or in shame, even she wasn’t sure.

  “I’ve been there,” Gail confessed.

  Dana chuckled ruefully. “Gilbert used the same words. Passing notes in school, when she was our age.”

  Gail nodded. “Guess all that’s changed is the technology.”

  “What do you mean, you’ve been there?”

  “I’ve sexted with boys.” She paused a long moment. “And with men, too.”

  “Men?” Dana was surprised. “Men you met online?”

  “Yes. I’ve tried it too; and wished that I hadn’t. Dana, what you’re doing is dangerous.”

  “So I’ve been told. But nothing will happen to me.”

  “I’m sure Grace Fleming thought the same thing.”

  Dana’s last vestige of defiance dissolved as Gail watched.

  “You know, the cops are looking for the guy who killed her," Gail said. “This guy you were sexting might be the one they’re looking for.”

  Dana shivered. “You think he is?”

  “I don’t know. But if you have any information on him, a phone call or email address, you ought to give it to them.”

  Dana shook her head. “I’m not a snitch.”

  “But you might be able to help them catch her killer.”

  Dana started to leave. “No. He can’t be the same guy. He doesn’t sound like a killer to me.”

  Gail took her shoulder. “No, he probably doesn’t; but that’s how scum like this works.”

  “Listen to the voice of experience.” She found something in Gail’s eyes she didn’t expect to see. “Oh my God! You weren’t lying. Did you... did you meet with some guy online?”

  “Yes. And you’re only the third person I’ve told.” She leaned closer. “And one of them was Grace.”

  Dana rightly figured out that the other was probably Rick. “Well, I promise I won’t contact him again.”

  “What if he contacts you?”

  Dana’s shrug was almost a shiver of unease. “I don’t know; guess I’ll just have to cross that bridge when I come to i
t.” She continued to the door.

  “Just a minute,” Gail said.

  “What?”

  “You still need a ride home, don’t you?”

  Dana managed a smile. “Yeah, I guess so.”

  “I’m driving Rick home; I can drop you off as well.”

  “All right; but no more about this, all right?”

  “I promise; no more.”

  “And don’t tell Rick!”

  Gail smiled. “Of course not. Guys don’t like to hear about girl talk anyway, didn’t you know that?”

  “Girl talk?” Dana couldn’t help but laugh.

  Gail flashed a look at Rick and he knew better than to ask any questions.

  The ride home wasn’t silent, but much more reserved than one might expect in a car carrying a teenage boy and two teenage girls.

  As Dana got out of the car and let herself into her empty house all fear that Gail’s words might have put into her faded amid the comfort of familiarity. When she reached her room she sat down, glanced at her history text and opened it to the assigned chapter. Two sentences into it she was bored and tossed it aside. She got out her cell and pulled up IronGuy’s number.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  This was the place; a bench in Double Rock Park. Dana and IronGuy had never met in person. The picture he’d sent her phone a while back showed he matched his screen name. And he was clearly her age; no old guy like Grace had hooked up with. He said he was on the wrestling team at his school, and that sounded interesting. Maybe she could coax him into showing her a few holds.

  There had been no problem getting out after supper; her parents were divorced, and her mother bought her story of a study date, and she never checked up on her. Good thing; the names she gave her of the supposed classmates she met on “study dates” were purely of her own invention.

  It was dark, which meant it was about nine; he said he’d come about that time. Still, as people started exiting the park, she started to get jittery. Alone, in the dark, the fears she thought she’d shaken were starting to slowly return.

  She jumped at the hand suddenly on her shoulder. “Bet you thought I’d stood you up, didn’t you?”

  Her laugh was an effort. “No; just figured you wanted to wait until we could be alone.” She stood up and turned.

  He was but a shadow in the darkness; he’d told her a bench where the nearest light was too far away to give good illumination.

  “IronGuy?”

  “That’s me. And tonight if you let me I’ll prove it to you.”

  She smiled and came around.

  The pungent stench in the handkerchief that went over her mouth made her gasp; but of course that only sucked the chlorophorm into her lungs all the quicker.

  * * *

  When she awoke her body was one collection of aches and pains. She was lying on something cold and narrow, and as she tried to move she rolled off onto the ground, adding another injury or two on top of what she apparently had already.

  Dana lay there, taking inventory of the various hurts. She was young; she got up from field hockey injuries and simple clumsy falls without any trouble. But this was different. She tested her limbs gingerly. Nothing was broken. But her face felt like a boxer had used it in place of the heavy bag, and her back, sides, and chest ached with the least move.

  There was a particularly painful soreness between her legs, but she didn’t want to think about that.

  She opened her eyes as best she could, the swollen lids lumps of putty nearly sealing her vision closed. It was dark; but then it had been dark the last she remembered. What was the last thing she remembered? Something about a bench in the park. Yeah. Was that it? Did she fall off the bench?

  There was a street light nearby. The bench in the park didn’t have a light near it. Was she on another park bench? Her eyes slowly adjusted and the bleariness cleared enough to see that the bench, just above her head, was not a park bench. And there was some kind of partial enclosure over her head.

  She tried to sit up and her brain exploded. Dana’s mother suffered from migraines, and Dana had already experienced one or two since puberty. Compared to this, a migraine was a mere annoyance. She lay back and closed her eyes.

  There was the sound of some heavy vehicle slowing to a stop and a whoosh of air and movement. Her pain overcame her curiosity and she made no effort to see what was happening. Then she heard voices. They seemed filtered, like someone speaking through layers of cloth or cotton; but she knew the speakers were right nearby.

  “Are you all right?”

  “Little girl? You okay?”

  She wasn’t a little girl. But she had no strength to correct the person who had called her that.

  “Better call 911,” the first person said. And the sound of those three digits beeping from a cell phone were the last thing she heard before descending again into painless oblivion.

  * * *

  She awoke again, this time to the smells of anesthetics and the sharp sting of oxygen in her nostrils. There were, in fact, tiny tubes delivering that oxygen and the dim awareness of some other kind of tube attached to her wrist. She was lying on her back, which was certainly not the way she normally slept. Yet she had been sleeping, and had moved yet again; this was neither the park nor wherever she had last been, where some dim voice had called 911.

  This was the second time tonight she had woken up somewhere other than where she last remembered being. At least this time it was more obvious: she was in a hospital. Whoever it was who had called 911 had probably asked for an ambulance to take her here. She experimented with opening her eyes, the bright light putting an end to the test. Her arm was stiff and she tried moving it She couldn’t move it far, but at least it moved; and it relieved some of the stiffness.

  “She’s awake! Thank God!” a voice said to her right.

  She knew the voice. “Mom?” There was movement as someone approached her and a soft hand clasped over her own.

  “Yes, it’s me, dear,” her mother said.

  “I’m here too,” said a male voice from beside her.

  “Dad.” Her eyes still shut, now with shame as much as anything else, she turned away from them. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

  “Don’t worry about that now,” her father said. “I’ve already called the police; they’ll catch the SOB who did this.”

  “Did you see who did this to you?” her mother asked.

  “No; no, I didn’t see his face.” It was the truth; the only nearby light had been behind him and she hadn’t made out his features. “But I have a picture of him on my cell.”

  “On your cell? You mean you know who did this?” her father seemed ready to go after the man himself.

  “Yes. Yes, I know who it is.”

  The doctor entered. “Ah, I see you’re awake. That’s a good sign.” He came over to her and carefully touched her here and there. “I’m Dr. Murray. You’ve been badly beaten, but we’re taking care of you.” Dana realized that some of the heaviness of her face and body were bandages. She must have been really badly beaten up. He made a couple of notes on the equipment readings and said, “But you need to rest, to sleep. I’m going to have the nurse give you a sedative in your IV.” He gestured to the parents to follow him.

  Dana sensed them moving away from her and heard the door swing open and shut as they went through. There was a faint bustle a few moments later, the soothing voice of a nurse, and another and the most comforting oblivion than she had experienced so far this night. If it was still the same night...

  * * *

  Jim and Audrey Fisher, Dana’s parents, had been waiting it seemed for hours. The brief moment they had spent at her bedside, as she half opened her eyes, wasn’t enough. Neither could sit still, and the coffee that a thoughtful nurse had brought sat cooling and untouched on a table. Even the thought of it only made them more jittery.

  Dr. Murray came into the waiting area. “Mr. and Mrs. Fisher?” They came over quickly, full of questions which he stopped wi
th a gently raised hand. “Your daughter is awake, but in pain. And we’ve given her a sedative.”

  “Can we see her?” Audrey asked.

  “Yes, but only for a moment before the sedative takes effect. She needs her sleep, but knowing that you two are here will help a great deal.” He led them to her room. “You can only stay a moment; by then she’ll be asleep.”

  “Can’t we sit by her?” Jim asked.

  “If you wish; but she’ll be down for several hours.” He opened the door and they slid past him into the room.

  Nearly her entire head was swathed in bandages. Her arm was splinted and hung from a cable, and one leg was similarly in a cast and elevated. What little else could be seen was either cut or bruised.

  Audrey thought she was made of strong stuff, and tried to hold back the sobs that wanted to come. She and Jim were divorced, and she really didn’t want him here. But she also didn’t want to break down in front of him. She brushed past him and commandeered the one stool by the bed, sitting as close as she could.

  “Mom!” Dana whispered past the fog that was growing around her.

  “I’m here, honey. Are you in much pain?”

  “Yeah; I guess. But everything’s going around; like, your face is floating up.”

  “That’s the medicine they gave you.”

  “I’m here too, darling.” Jim took her other hand.

  Dana tried to turn toward the voice but it made her dizzier. “Who?”

  “It’s me, your dad.”

  “Hi dad.” It was the last she was able to say before slipping into sleep.

  “I’ll stay with her until tonight,” Jim said.

  The door opened before more words passed.

  “Mr. and Mrs. Fisher? There are some police officers who want to talk to you.”

  “We’ll be right there,” Audrey said. She gave Dana a kiss and went straight to the door.

  Jim knelt by the bed, stroked what little of Dana’s hair was visible beneath the bandage, and kissed her softly on the cheek. He drew himself up, took a breath, and went into the hall.