Head Case: A Psychological Thriller, page 6
“Then what do you think it is?”
“I have no idea. Maybe it’s nothing. Or maybe it’s something else. She doesn’t tell me everything, Miles.”
“Should I talk to her?”
“No. Don’t worry about it. I’ve got this. I’m just trying to keep you in the loop.”
The guilt hits me hard, right in the gut.
If Erin’s upset now, how will she feel if a scandal breaks and I’m hauled off to prison?
But I nod my head and force myself to smile. Then I change the subject and start to fill my wife in on my latest project, a midsize condo development that could really turn things around for us. If I can just keep the school situation from blowing up in my face, this deal might be the answer to our money problems.
“It sounds promising,” she says, and we continue to eat in comfortable silence.
As I munch on an asparagus stalk, I think about Walker’s heart condition and the fact that if something unfortunate were to incapacitate him, Brooke could be promoted to interim head of school and stave off the audit until I can close the donation. I realize that’s a terrible thought to have about a nice guy, but I’m desperate.
After we’re done eating, we clear the dishes together and start to rinse and stack them in the dishwasher. I’m suddenly struck with an overwhelming desire to make love to my wife. I come up behind her and run my hands up the sides of her taut, thin frame. I lift her hair and kiss her softly on the back of the neck. She arches her back, and I feel her body respond, usually a good sign.
Then I whisper in her ear, “We’ve got the house to ourselves. How ’bout a spin on the couch?”
She rubs back against me but then lets out a deep sigh. “Not tonight. Bad timing.” Then she turns around to face me and places her hand on my arm. “I’ll make it up to you this weekend. Erin’s staying with her friend Saturday night.”
“Is that a promise?”
“That’s a promise.”
We share an intimate kiss and I sneak in a butt squeeze. It will have to be enough for now.
“You drive me crazy,” I say.
“I know.” Madeline smiles.
As I scrub the pans and my wife wipes the counters, an idea starts to form in my mind. If Doug Walker’s health issue is serious enough, maybe I could offer the man a short-term medical leave. That would give me the space to figure a way out, and I’d also come out looking like a good guy.
Not a bad idea.
Except for Brooke, the wild card. If Walker’s departure would allow her to step up as interim head of school, that might be enough to get her under control. I need to see her and take her temperature.
Soon.
A few minutes later, I feel my phone vibrate. Drying off my hands, I reach into my pocket to check it. It’s a text from Brooke, confirming our meeting tomorrow.
And she ended it with a smiley face.
EIGHT
Cassie
Kimi’s apartment is only one floor below me, and I have yet to enter her room. It’s Wednesday, and I have her spare key. But I haven’t been able to bring myself to walk down and open the door. I will make myself do it, though. Tonight. Before any potential evidence is gone forever.
It’s not that I’m afraid of running into a murderer. And it’s not because I’m avoiding the inevitable emotional wave that will surely hit me when I start looking through her things. It’s the anticipation of walking into her apartment and seeing her life there, all neat and tidy, waiting for her to return, but knowing that she never will. This nearly paralyzes me.
I was thirteen years old when my entire world was turned upside down. It was just after dinner, and I still can’t bring myself to eat chicken marsala. That’s what we had for dinner that night, and the shocking news made me sick to my stomach. So sick that, to this day, the smell of that dish brings me right back to that moment with all of its emotional punch. I avoid chicken marsala like the plague.
It had been a great day up until that point because in math class, Tad, this boy I liked, finally smiled at me. I had a tingly feeling for the rest of the day, and my step felt lighter as I bounced around from class to class. My senses were heightened with anticipation as I fantasized about our first kiss. I imagined it would start out gentle and then get steamier, like in the movies. He had a bit of an edge to him, but he was no slacker. He was smart and seemed a bit older than his years. I heard he even hung out with high school kids sometimes.
I’d had a crush on Tad for months, and I’d been making some progress. I’d been getting in more with the popular girls, something that had taken a year or so of effort, and that seemed to be upping my social status. It was a long-term strategy. And it was working. I was thinking about him as we were finishing up dinner, when my mother turned to me and uttered the words that would change my life.
We need to have a talk, Cassie.
At first, I thought I was in trouble. When I slept over at a new friend’s house the weekend before, her parents were out most of the evening. So she took some of their vodka, mixed it with orange juice, and suggested we have a little fun. I didn’t really want to drink it. But I was afraid of looking like a dork. I only had a few sips, pretending to go along with it. But I was convinced my mother knew about it. I almost came right out and confessed, but then I thought better of it.
“Am I in trouble?” I asked.
“No, honey. Not at all.” Mom shot my father a menacing look, and he hung his head, averting her death glare. “You’ve done nothing wrong.”
This was uncharted territory. My father was a gregarious man, happy-go-lucky. The life of the party. I’d never seen him so somber. And the glare my mother gave him? I’d never seen her look at him like that before. I assumed right away they were splitting up. Whatever it was, it was clearly his fault. I figured it was an affair, like what had happened to my friend Samantha the year before. Now she had to divide her time between two homes, one of which also housed her father’s new girlfriend. The thought of that put my stomach in knots.
“Are you getting a divorce?”
“No,” she said. “Look, Cassie, I’m not going to lie to you. We are in a dangerous situation, and you’re going to need to listen carefully and do everything we tell you. This is serious. Do you understand?”
I felt a pounding in my chest.
Dangerous? What is she talking about?
It’s all sort of a blur when I think back on it. I remember my mother doing most of the talking. We were moving, she said. Leaving town. Changing our names. Leaving our lives behind. I struggled to process what was happening.
What about Tad? What about my friends?
I tried to shake myself awake, figuring it was some sort of bad dream. Maybe some movie I’d seen was stuck in my head, and I was trapped in it. But she just kept on going. Something about my dad being a witness. Police protection. Rules I had to follow. But it wasn’t making any sense.
“Are you all going crazy? I can’t leave!”
I stood up, pressed my hands against my head, and started pacing around the dining room. My heart raced and a wave of nausea hit me. I kept hoping it was all a nightmare or some kind of misunderstanding. But my mom just kept on going. About witness protection. My dad doing something illegal. Something about my dad being stupid.
“I’m so sorry, honey,” I heard him say, but it just pissed me off more.
Wasn’t I the teenager? Wasn’t I the one who was supposed to do stupid things?
Mom kept talking and talking, but the words weren’t making any sense to me. I felt like I was underwater, hearing only the muffled remnants of her words. She talked until I couldn’t take it anymore.
“Stop. Mom. Just stop!” My hands flew up into the air as my shrill demand echoed through the house. I needed her to stop talking so I could process what she was saying.
And she did. Finally.
We were all silent for a bit, and everything came to a standstill. I couldn’t even look at my parents, but I could see in my periphery they were frozen to their seats. Then my body was racked with sobs as the reality of the situation hit me.
My parents are serious. This isn’t a dream.
It felt like my gut was turning inside out, and I thought I might throw up. I stumbled to the living room and collapsed on the sofa as my mother’s words reverberated in my brain.
Witness. Illegal. New identity.
And finally, I let myself land on the one word that made me grow up on the spot, the word that shattered my innocence and robbed me of my childhood forever.
Dangerous.
I enter Kimi’s room and start to look around, and I have to laugh at the irony of the situation. Growing up the way I did, I intentionally picked the most low-key, innocuous profession I could possibly think of. One where I could keep a low profile. One devoid of danger, publicity, or intrigue. I’ve always loved to read, which is understandable. With no siblings and the fact that I had to keep friends at a distance from middle school on, I lost myself in books. My career choice was between English teacher and librarian. I don’t like to sit still, so I landed on teacher. And here I am now, an English teacher intentionally embroiling myself in a possible murder investigation.
I don’t see Kimi’s computer or any electronics, and I wonder if she took her school computer with her or if they’ve already taken it. I was hoping to see if I could get into her device and look at her files.
I head into the bedroom and poke around a bit in her closet. Most of her clothes are still hanging there, and I wonder for the millionth time what the feds did with the clothes I left behind when we fled that next morning. Did they donate them or just dump them in the trash? I never asked because it seemed like such a stupid question.
I walk over to her desk. The surface is clean and tidy. There’s a marked-up copy of Adventures of Huckleberry Finn and a blank notepad. That’s it. Either she took everything with her, or somebody already came in and got her teaching materials. I open the drawers, and they’re all empty except for a few stray rubber bands and paper clips.
I don’t think I’m going to glean anything major from the contents of this apartment, but I go check the bathroom just in case. Shampoo, conditioner, and body wash bottles still sit in the shower caddy. Her medicine cabinet contains contact lens solution, makeup, hair ties, and over-the-counter medications. I notice some prescription eye drops and check the date. The drops are from last August, so if she was leaving town, she probably wouldn’t have needed to take them with her.
Judging from what she left behind, it’s hard to tell if she planned to come back or if she was outright fleeing. I would think she’d have taken more of her things if she was not planning to come back at all, so I’m leaning more towards the idea that she was coming back. But then again, the desk is suspiciously barren, and she did send me that letter. There are also no important documents that I can see. No passport. No birth certificate. She must have taken all that with her.
I’m snapped out of my musings by the sound of the apartment door creaking open. I freeze for a moment and then reach for my pepper spray. I’ve been looking over my shoulder since I was thirteen, and even if nothing untoward happened to Kimi, someone could always be after me.
I’d like to think that what happened between my father and his associates was so long ago they’ve lost interest in him. But I don’t take any chances. And we’re still technically under federal protection, so there must be some ongoing cause for concern.
Someone is in the room now, and I think about calling out to them. I don’t. Instead, I stay hidden in the bathroom. Anyone nosing around will probably come in here eventually. But I have the element of surprise on my side, and I decide it’s better to keep it that way.
I hear the desk drawers open and close. Then I hear the person stop, as if they may have heard me in here. I flatten myself against the wall far enough away from the door so I can see them in the mirror but they can’t see me. Then I put my thumb on the pepper spray button and get ready to depress it.
I hear footsteps, and I don’t dare move a muscle. Then I see him in the mirror.
It’s Dan Moralis.
Maybe he’s Brooke’s plant. Or maybe he’s after me for some other reason.
He’s about to enter the bathroom, but then he stops. I take another deep breath. My pepper spray is ready to fire, and I don’t move a muscle. I think again about letting him know I’m here.
Maybe this is all a big misunderstanding.
Maybe he’s here because he offered to pack up her room, like me?
But then he whips aggressively towards me, and my instincts kick in. His hand is raised. I point at his face and depress the button on my only weapon, hoping it will be enough.
He lets out a ferocious howl as the pepper spray hits him square in the eyes. I duck down and shift to the side while he’s still blinded and confused, avoiding any possible retaliation. I’ve had some training. I escape from the bathroom. Then I make a beeline for the apartment door and run for my life.
NINE
Cassie
I didn’t have to run very far before I smacked into a security guard headed in our direction. I muttered something about Kimi’s room and pepper spray, and he went running to check on Dan.
Now it’s twenty minutes later, and I’m in an interrogation of sorts with Brooke, Doug Walker, and Stan, the head of security. We’re in the faculty lounge inside the administration building. Dan’s been taken to the ER to wash out his eyes, which seems like overkill to me. I told them I didn’t know it was Dan when I sprayed him, which is a total lie of course. And that I ran to get help when I saw who it was.
“What were you thinking?” Brooke is furious with me. I don’t really care, though. And it’s only pepper spray. It will wear off. It’s not like I shot the guy.
“I thought he was a burglar. I told you. I couldn’t see who it was until after I sprayed him. Then I went for help. What was Dan doing in Kimi’s room anyway?”
“What were you doing in Kimi’s room?” Brooke shoots back. “You scared him too. He thought you were a burglar.”
“I have a spare key. She gave it to me months ago. I was going to start packing up her things, so her parents wouldn’t have to do it. I was just trying to help.”
“You should have cleared that with us first, Cassie,” Doug says. His tone is milder than Brooke’s, but I can tell he’s upset. His lips are pressed together, and I can see tension lines on his forehead.
Brooke informs me that Dan went there to get Kimi’s copy of Adventures of Huckleberry Finn. She tells us he wanted her marked-up copy because he’s never taught that book before, and now I’m even more suspicious. What English teacher hasn’t taught Adventures of Huckleberry Finn? And how did he know it was in her room? As if reading my mind, she continues.
“We looked for the book in her office and it wasn’t there, so he went to her room to look for it.” Her eyes are like daggers, cutting my lie into shreds. But I’m not buying her story either. The book was sitting on the desk, so why was he looking in the drawers?
But I need to turn down the heat, so I keep my suspicions to myself. Brooke’s still glaring at me, the security chief is sizing me up in silence, and Doug Walker isn’t looking at any of us. Rather, he’s staring off into the distance looking a little preoccupied. Maybe he’s thinking about the health scare he had in the cafeteria. We’ve gotten no further information, but I’m sure it wasn’t nothing.
“How did he get in?” I ask.
“He saw the door was open a crack, and he went in to see if the book was there,” Brooke says.
I’m pretty sure I closed the door. It doesn’t lock automatically, so I can’t say for certain if I locked it or not.
Maybe he was just coming in to get the book. I don’t know what to think anymore. I hate living like this, being afraid and suspicious all the time. I wish I could tell them the reason I’m always on edge. But I can’t.
“I’m so sorry. I think I’m just jumpy because of what happened to Kimi. And from seeing the police here the other day.”
A sympathetic look comes over Doug Walker’s face. “I understand, Cassie. And now we’ve asked you to stay over break. But the police have assured us that what happened to Kimi was an accident. And it didn’t even happen on campus. Please know that we have top-notch security in place. You’re safe here. We’re all safe.”
I’m never safe.
But I nod and lower my eyes.
“Dan must be furious with me. I need to apologize to him.” I say what they want to hear, although I don’t really know what to think. I don’t trust Brooke. What if she’s pulling the strings and she told Dan to go in there and look for evidence of whatever Kimi had on her? Or what if I’m simply paranoid and being ridiculous?
“I don’t think he’s mad, Cassie.” Stan, the security chief, finally says something. “He actually seemed kind of amused by it.”
“Dan said he was amused? That I pepper sprayed him?” I feel my brow wrinkle.
“He said you were a feisty one,” Stan replies.
Try as I might to keep my poker face on, I have to fight to stop a grin from spreading.
Dan thinks I’m feisty.
I’m back in my room now, and I think everything worked out okay. Everyone seemed comfortable with the assumption that it was simply a big misunderstanding, although I’m still wary of Brooke.
After an hour or so, I hear a car engine idling outside our building. Then I hear a car door slam shut. I look out the window and see Dan coming back from the ER. I decide to wait out in the hall and apologize to him. I need to face him sooner or later, so I might as well get it over with.
I open my apartment door and wait in the doorway. I hear him walking up the steps. When he comes into view, I can see even from this distance that his eyes are bloodshot. He flashes me a smirk.
