Sketchy Behavior (11 page)

“We’re back together,” she announced, flashing a big smile. “He apologized. He said that he was totally in the wrong, and he never meant to hurt me.”

Fabulous
. I managed a smile. “Great, Maddy. That’s great.” I wished I could have been more excited, but now I simply got to watch the dramatic breakup again sometime in the future. Tyler really was a big jerk. I never could see what made Maddy so in love with him. He treated her like garbage.

“Thanks!” she said all perkily. We passed by a group of football players who were gathered in the hall, and Tyler immediately came over.

“Oh, hi, Kate,” he said, slinging his arm around Maddy. “And you guys must be the undercover cops.” His voice dropped a couple of decibel levels. “Do you really think someone will try to shoot Kate here?”

A real winner, that Tyler. Always had the nicest thing to say and the most perfect time to say it.

Detective Masterson frowned at Tyler — he didn’t even bother answering him. We stopped outside the art classroom.

“Well. Anyway. See you later, Kate.”

Tyler left and Maddy rolled her eyes. “I don’t know why he asked that.” She looked at the policemen. “He’s really not that callous most of the time.”

Oh, he really was. But I didn’t say anything.

“So, Kate, can I come study with you afterwards today?”

I nodded. “Sure.” Honestly, I’d missed Maddy’s incessant chatting over the noise of Ryan Seacrest while I was trying to do my homework. “How are the tonsils?”

She waved her hand. “Oh, they’re fine. The doctor said that I’d probably have to get them out sometime this year, but I’m going to wait until summer to do it so I don’t have to miss a bunch of school. He said that I probably should have had them out when I was a kid. Want to see them?”

I winced. “No, thanks.” Looking in people’s mouths was not a favorite pastime of mine. Dentistry was out as far as a future career choice.

She nodded. “All right then. I’ll see you after school. Bye!” She waved and left, running down the hall to make her first class on time.

“Charming friend,” Detective Masterson said under his breath.

“Equally charming boyfriend.” DJ nodded.

“Hey,” I said. “Maddy is my best friend, so please be nice to her.”

Detective Masterson shrugged. “I’ll be nice.”

We pushed through the door to art class, and there were only six other people in there as the bell rang. I frowned and looked back into the hallway. Usually, there are around fifteen more kids in my class.

Miss Yeager turned from the board and looked at all of us. “Good morning, everyone,” she said.

I sat down next to Justin and Allison and looked around. I raised my hand.

“Yes, Kate?”

“Where is everyone today?”

Miss Yeager tried to hide a wince in my direction, but then I understood.

“Oh,” I said, shaking my head slightly. “I get it. Never mind.”

Allison elbowed me in the ribcage. “I heard that all these moms had this meeting last night because they think that it puts all their kids in danger for you to be here, and so they pulled all their kids out of school,” she whispered.

“Allison!” Miss Yeager said sharply. “Now is not the time.”

She shrugged at Miss Yeager and then pulled her pencils out of her backpack, looking at me. “I’m just saying what I heard.”

I sat there quietly in my chair, facing the whiteboard and trying not to look around at all the empty seats. The moms panicked? They had a meeting? I was preventing fourteen kids from coming to school today?

This was getting to be too much. Didn’t they realize that’s why Detective Masterson and DJ were here?

Miss Yeager sent an apologetic look my direction and started the lesson. It was just a review, so I started to drift off in the midst of it.

My stomach was cramping. I’d always been the girl that no one even noticed, and now, everyone noticed me. Everyone was scared to stand close to me.

I felt like a walking time bomb.

Miss Yeager finished class right as the bell rang. “Kate, hold on a minute please,” she said over the clanging. The rest of the class gathered their stuff and left.

Justin sent me a half-smile as he packed his backpack. “Chin up,” he whispered, and then left.

Miss Yeager came over and sat down in Allison’s vacated chair. “You are not the cause of this,” she said.

“Come on, Miss Yeager,” I said. I was so tired of people telling me this was not my fault. It was my fault. If I hadn’t drawn John X, then I never would have caused Officer DeWeise to get shot or have part of the school staying home out of fear.

“Kate, people get scared over situations that they don’t need to be scared about,” Miss Yeager said.

I just sighed at her and the two policemen standing next to us. “They don’t need to be scared about this? I’ve got two cops following me around like I’m the President’s daughter, I’ve gotten a cop with a wife and two kids shot and put in the hospital, I can’t sleep at night because of the nightmares, and my mother has stopped buying me Crispix because she saw me tracing the
x
in the title yesterday.” I let my breath out.

Miss Yeager reached over and rubbed my shoulder. “I’m so sorry, Kate. This is all because of me and a stupid idea I had. I’m so sorry.”

“If it’s any consolation,” Detective Masterson said, “people still think you’re a hero, Kate. Those people who were waiting for vindication for the women who died have gotten it. And John X will never be released from prison.”

“Apparently, he doesn’t need to be, and people still get shot,” I said bitterly. I slammed my hands down on the table. “You know what? I think I’m going to go home for the rest of today.”

I stood, grabbed my backpack, and left. Detective Masterson and DJ hurried to keep up with me as I marched out of the school and to the black Tahoe.

“Kate. Kate, slow down,” DJ said, grabbing my forearm. “Are you sure you don’t want to stay for the rest of the day?”

“What’s the point? So I can see all the rest of the empty tables at school? No thanks. Everyone wishes I would just stay home anyway.”

Detective Masterson unlocked the Tahoe, and I climbed in. It was a quiet drive home.

DJ parked in the driveway, and we walked to the front porch. There sat three more bouquets on the front porch. I was willing to bet that at least one was from the news crew at KCL who was still begging for an interview. We each grabbed one and went inside.

I set my bouquet on the kitchen counter next to the other two. They were pretty. Daisies, roses, tulips … it looked like a funeral had happened in our house, because these were everywhere.

I was beginning to hate the smell of flowers.

I yanked the notes from the bouquets.

Dear Kate
,
thank you for your selfless contribution to society …

Kate
,
we are so grateful for such patriots in America …

Dear Kate
,
if you could please call our newsroom at 555–3422
,
we’d love to have you on our show …

The last one was from KCL. The first two were signed from Phyllis in St. Louis and the Kleins in Springfield, Missouri.

I put all the notes in the teetering stack of notecards on the kitchen counter and left the flowers where they were. One thing was sure — South Woodhaven Falls florists had been reaping the benefit from my actions.

They were about the only ones who were.

It was only ten o’clock in the morning, and I had no idea what to do with the rest of the day. I didn’t have any homework, since I’d skipped out on classes. Mom and Dad were both at work for the remainder of the day.

It was just me and the cops.

Two men and a high school dropout.

Wasn’t that the name of a movie?

I wondered if skipping school today classified me as a juvenile delinquent. I’d have to ask Dad later tonight.

“So,” DJ said, joining me in the kitchen. “What do you want to do for the rest of today?”

I shrugged. “I don’t know.” Usually, when I was completely bored, I would go to my room and draw for hours.

I was starting to hate drawing. Anytime I sat down to sketch, the only face I saw was John X’s.

Detective Masterson came into the kitchen, holding his cell phone. “Guess what?” he said, though I wasn’t sure if it was directed to me or DJ.

Judging by DJ’s lack of a response, he didn’t know whom the question was for either.

Detective Masterson didn’t bother to wait for one of us to answer. “There was a witness at the parade.”

DJ immediately straightened. “Witness? Someone saw the shooter?”

“Apparently, they saw them clear as day. They’ve just been too scared to come forward with that information.”

They both exchanged a look for a minute and then both turned to me. I was fishing in the pantry for the stash of M&M’s Dad and I had hid weeks ago. I could feel their stares on my back.

I winced. “No,” I said, knowing what was coming.

“Kate,” Detective Masterson started.

I found the bag of M&M’s and tore into it. “I don’t want to. Have the real artist guy do it.”

Detective Masterson let out a single, staccato laugh. “Ha! Like that would help us at all. Larry’s sketches have only gotten us leads for nice old ladies buying their grandbabies teething rings. We’ve never caught the person we were looking for off of Larry’s sketches.”

“Seems like it’s time to hire a new sketch artist then,” I said, popping a handful of M&M’s into my mouth. “And one who’s legal to vote,” I said around the colored globs of chocolate, since both of them opened their mouths at the same time.

“Kate,” DJ said again. “If we find this guy, maybe we can get him to talk. We can find out if there are more people after you. We can find out how many more friends John X has.”

I chewed in silence, looking at them and then at the floral shop in my house. Then I thought about Officer DeWeise and his two kids waiting at home for their daddy. And how my dad’s voice cracked when he was talking about me staying protected.

It made sense. If we caught the guy who shot at me during the parade, maybe he was the last of my worries. Maybe he was John X’s only friend, and maybe if they were stuck in prison together
they’d only get to reminisce about the good old days of killing innocent women instead of continuing to do it.

Maybe.

I looked again at the flowers decorating our entire house. From the kitchen, I could count at least twenty-two bouquets scattered around our house. That didn’t count the handful that were upstairs. Mom said we were going to need to start giving them out to the neighbors.

About half of them were from KCL, but the other half were all families and couples and women who had written some really sweet thank-you cards.

I was scared to leave my house for fear of John X
, one woman had written.
Thank you for giving me my freedom back.

Now if only I could find a bit of that freedom as well.

I sighed and swallowed and looked at the two policemen in front of me.

“Fine.” I said it quietly, but both of them reacted like a firework had exploded.

“Great!” Detective Masterson said, doing a fabulous impression of Tony the Tiger. “I’ll call Deputy Slalom right now.” He immediately left, dialing as he went.

“Awesome,” DJ said, patting my shoulder. “I knew we could count on you, Kate.”

Detective Masterson appeared back in the kitchen seconds later. “We’re going to the station right now,” he said. “Think you should call your parents? Don’t forget the code we talked about.”

I nodded. I picked up our house phone and dialed my mom’s work first.

“Hello, Claire Carter’s office.” Madge, Mom’s ancient secretary, answered the phone.

“Hi, it’s Kate.”

“One moment.”

A second later, my mom answered. “Kate? Honey, is everything okay?”

“Just wanted to be sure you remembered my dentist appointment was today,” I told her, nodding at the policemen. We weren’t supposed to say exactly where we were going, just in case.

I felt like I was in one of those spy movies.

Only I felt like I should be cooler. I felt a little like Steve Carell’s character in
Get Smart
. Kind of goofy.

Mom cleared her throat. “Okay, honey. Thanks for reminding me.”

So now Mom knew that I was not at school, I was going to the police station, and everything was fine.

“Okay. Bye, Mom.”

“Love you, Katie-Kin.”

I paused, holding the phone with both hands. “I love you too, Mom.”

Dad didn’t take it quite as easily. “The dentist?” he repeated. “Why in the world are you going to the dentist right now? Shouldn’t you be in school?”

He either didn’t remember the code or was trying to find out why I was going to the police station, but we hadn’t discussed the code past the dentist part.

“Well, I, uh, have a cavity, I think,” I said, around a mouthful of M&M’s. “It’s kind of painful, so I called the dentist. They said to come on over, and they’d take a look at it. It’s pretty urgent, Dad.”

Then it clicked.

“Oh,” Dad said, suddenly. “Right. Well, then you should probably go in.”

“Yep. I’m on my way there.”

“Okay. Well. Buckle your seatbelt.”
Bring the cops
.

“Always, Dad. Love you.”

“Love you back.”

I nodded to DJ and Detective Masterson. “Okay. Let’s go.”

I
FOUND IT KIND OF SAD THAT THE POLICE STATION LOOKED
so familiar. Same desks, same cubicles. Same feeling of being in an office hawking paper supplies instead of a place dedicated to upholding the law.

Deputy Slalom was waiting for us when we got there. He was wearing his typical outfit of a button-down, long-sleeve shirt and a tie. This time, he was still wearing his jacket.

Must have been a slow day.

“Hi, Kate,” Deputy Slalom said, holding open the door to one of the conference rooms. “Glad you were able to come.”

I’d never heard a policeman excited about a high school student skipping classes, but things have been a little weird lately.

I nodded. “I brought my pencils,” I said, holding up a handful of pencils rubber-banded together. I didn’t bring my sketchpad. I figured surely the police station had paper.

Then again, with all the city and county budget cuts that have been happening constantly, maybe that wasn’t a good assumption.

Deputy Slalom showed me into the conference room and DJ followed me. Detective Masterson went to go check his office.

There was a huge sketchpad set up on an easel in the room, as well as a couple of chairs, two tables, a box of facial tissues, a huge binder, and a water dispenser.

I’d never drawn on an easel before. Miss Yeager didn’t have the
money to buy easels for everyone in art class, so we got to draw on the table. And at home, I always drew on my desk.

I’ve heard it’s better for your wrist if you use an easel, but since I’ve never practiced on one, I’m not sure if I could draw as well.

“Make yourself comfortable,” Deputy Slalom said to me. He patted DJ on the shoulder. “And feel free to take a break, if you want. I’m going to hang out in here for a few minutes.”

DJ nodded and looked at me. “You okay?” he asked.

“Go take a break,” I said, filling a paper cup with water. “I’m fine.”

DJ left.

Deputy Slalom nodded to the chair next to the easel. “The witness is on her way in. Let me explain a little about how this works.”

I sat down and took the rubber band off my pencils. Deputy Slalom sat in the chair opposite me.

“We don’t give out the witness’s last name,” he started. “But this woman’s first name is Carol. She was at the parade with her three kids when she saw the shooting.”

“How old is she?” I asked.

“Probably forty. Maybe forty-five. With all these new creams women are putting on their faces, it’s getting harder to tell.” Deputy Slalom nodded to the huge binder. “In that book are nearly a thousand different facial components. Everything from noses, ears, and moles. Our former sketch artist liked to use it to try and draw out the memory from the witness.”

Former sketch artist. I sighed. Poor Larry.

I picked up the heavy binder and flipped through about ten pages of eyebrows before even I was confused at what I was looking at. They started looking more and more like dead centipedes.

If I were asked to describe someone after looking at one thousand different facial features, I don’t think I’d even be able to accurately describe my mother, much less someone I’d seen for barely a minute.

No wonder Larry’s sketches always came out wrong.

“Do I have to use this?” I asked, closing the binder.

Deputy Slalom shook his head. “You can do whatever you want to. Normally, I wouldn’t give that much freedom to an artist, but considering how much that sketch of John X was picture quality, who am I to judge your methods?”

There was a rap on the door and a policeman I hadn’t met stuck his head in. “She’s here, boss.”

“Send her in,” Deputy Slalom said, standing.

A short woman with cropped brown hair walked in, clutching her purse nervously. She didn’t wear a lot of makeup, just some eyeliner and mascara as far as I could tell. Her cheeks were flushed though.

I was hoping it was from the nerves and not the flu. Getting sick right now wasn’t a high priority for me.

“Hi, Carol. Thank you for coming in,” Deputy Slalom said in a nice, soothing voice. He ushered her in and had her sit in the chair opposite me.

She just stared at me. “You’re okay?” she said quietly, in a sweet Southern accent.

I nodded. “I’m okay.”

“And the policeman who was shot?”

I looked at Deputy Slalom, imagining he had the more up-to-date information.

“He was discharged today,” he said. “A couple of cracked ribs and a few stitches. You have to love bulletproof vests,” he said, lightly. I knew he was trying to lessen Carol’s anxiety, but I think just the sight of me was enough to send her back into a fit.

She only nodded.

“Carol, Kate here is going to draw what you remember. Okay? You two take as much time as you need, and let us know if we can get you anything.”

Deputy Slalom’s secretary brought in a plate full of cookies, brownies, and fruit then. “Here you go, ladies,” she said, setting it on the table in between us.

Deputy Slalom looked at me. “You good?”

I nodded.

“Okay. Let me know if you need anything. I’ll send Kent in here in a minute.”

He left.

The room was very quiet. Carol was alternating between staring at me, the easel, and the plate of food.

I was trying to figure out what to do next.

“So, uh,” I started strongly, just like my speech teacher loved. “Um, what do you do?”

Carol blinked and looked away from the cookies and up to my face. “I’m sorry, what?”

“What do you do for a job?”

“I’m a stay-at-home mom.”

I nodded. “That’s neat.” Evidently, her daughters don’t have to worry about going on imaginary adventures like that story about the little kid who was home too much by herself. “How old are your kids?”

She took a deep breath, relaxing her iron grip on her purse slightly. “Nine, seven, and four. The older two are at school right now. The baby is with my husband.” She dug into her purse and pulled out a wallet-sized photo. There was a huge Christmas tree in the background and a bunch of little blonde girls, a blond man, and Carol in the picture.

“Aw, they are cute,” I said, taking the picture and staring at it for the appropriate amount of time before handing it back.

“Thanks.” She managed a small smile at me. “If you don’t mind me asking, how old are you?”

“Sixteen,” I said.

“Wow,” she breathed. “You are young.”

There are only a few statements that put a complete end to a conversation, but that is one of them. What was I supposed to say to that? Yes, I am? No, not really?

I cleared my throat. “So, um, I’m actually not sure why they
wanted me to come draw for you, but I’m trying to do anything I can to help this investigation,” I said.

She nodded. “I’m sorry it took me so long to come forward. My girls …” She looked away and shook her head. “Well. You understand.”

I didn’t, but I nodded like I did. “Did your girls …” I winced. “Did they see …?”

She shook her head immediately. “No, they were with their father. I was trying to find the stand with those corn dogs.”

Oh, the corn dogs. Which I hadn’t tasted.

“Anyway, I couldn’t find the stand and I was over on the side of the street, and there were a bunch of people cheering for you, so I walked over to get a better look at you.”

“Did you ever get one?” I asked.

She shrugged. “There was a tall man in front of me, so I kind of caught a side profile of you.”

I shook my head. “No, I meant, did you ever get a corn dog?”

A tiny smile crossed her face. “No. The parade was canceled.”

“Sorry about that.”

“Me too.”

She looked more at ease. She even set her purse on the floor instead of clutching it tightly in her lap.

I arched my back in the uncomfortable, hard plastic chair. I wasn’t sure what to do at this point. When I sketched John X, Miss Yeager just read me a long description of what he looked like. I didn’t have to do the probing thing.

It felt weird asking a woman I barely knew a million questions, though. Sort of rude, even.

“What are your daughter’s names?” I asked, just trying to get to know her better.

“Meghan, Rachel, and Elise,” she said.

“Pretty.” I smiled.

“Do you have any siblings, Kate?”

I nodded. “I have a brother. He’s not around very much. He’s
in college in California. He’s going to be an engineer, so he can’t take very much time off school.” I shrug. “We don’t talk much.”

She nodded, knowingly. “I have a brother like that. He lives in Maine and we never talk unless I’m in labor.”

“You had a long stretch of not talking then, between your second and third girl,” I said. “Is he an engineer too?”

She laughed. “No, he’s working as a technical support something or another. He’s in charge of a bunch of wires, basically.”

“Do you want a cookie?” I asked, pointing to the tray. I wasn’t starving, but breakfast had been early morning and it was nearing eleven thirty. Almost lunchtime. I pulled a chocolate chip cookie off the plate and Carol picked a brownie.

“I really don’t need this,” she fretted, rubbing a hand on her hip.

I tried very hard not to roll my eyes. All adult women are the exact same. I was just thrilled that there was real — or fake, according to my mother — sugar in the cookies. I hadn’t had a real chocolate chip cookie for far too long.

“Careful,” Carol said, smiling at me. “You’ll worry about it too.”

Apparently I wasn’t as good at hiding the eye roll as I thought I was.

We talked about nothing and everything for the next thirty minutes. She grew up in Arkansas, which explained the accent, married her husband in Georgia, and then moved to South Woodhaven Falls when her husband got a job in the St. Louis outskirts.

“I hate that he commutes so far to work every day, but I love living in a small town,” she said. “It’s so good for the girls.”

We finally got back around to the parade after noon.

“I guess I first noticed him because he was wearing a hooded sweatshirt and had the hood on,” she said, pulling a pineapple chunk from the tray. “And it was very sunny, you remember. And warm. You definitely did not need a hood on.”

I looked away from Carol nibbling on the pineapple so I could start imagining the man.

“He wasn’t very tall,” she continued. “He was probably close to Steve’s height.” Steve was Carol’s husband. She’d already told me he was five-eight and therefore had solidified their daughters’ shortness forever.

“And he was wearing sunglasses,” she said. “Those kind that look like something Tom Cruise would wear in
Top Gun
. Wait, is that too old of a reference for you?”

I grinned. “My mom loves
Top Gun
.”

“Meg Ryan was adorable in that movie.”

I nodded.

She talked for the next hour and I listened carefully. The man she’d seen had what looked like short brown hair under the hood, the aviator sunglasses, a five o’clock shadow, and a sharp chin. She hadn’t seen his ears, but he had nice cheekbones.

“He was probably around thirty, I’d guess,” she said.

I still hadn’t drawn anything. There was no point to drawing something I’d only have to erase later.

“How about his nose? His lips? Is Elise excited to start kindergarten?” I prodded her with questions about the man and about her family whenever she stopped talking.

Detective Masterson came in and out during the meeting, and when he came in at one, he brought hamburgers.

At two, I picked up my pencil and pulled the sketchpad off the easel. Carol was still talking about how she’d kind of thought something shifty was going on with the man.

“He kept looking back and forth and back and forth,” she said. “And he kept both of his hands in the front pockets of his sweatshirt. Like I said, it was much too warm to be wearing something like that.”

I started drawing. I closed my eyes and saw the face of the man she had described. But it’s not just physical description that mattered. There were indefinable qualities that played into how someone looked. How they acted, what they lived through.

I worked on the sketch for almost an hour. Carol would lean over and look at it and make a few comments.

“His nose was a little more straight,” she said.

I fixed the nose and kept working.

“Kate?” she asked about thirty minutes later when I took a break to stretch.

“Yeah?”

She fidgeted and I braced for a hard question. “Why did you lean forward?” she asked quietly.

The question of the week.

I put my pencil down. “I don’t know,” I said, truthfully. “I needed my sunglasses, so I leaned forward to get them because my purse was in the backseat. But I have no idea why it was exactly at that time.”

She looked at me and nodded. “Okay.”

I picked up my pencil and looked at my half-finished sketch. The man’s forehead and eyes were done, his nose was coming along.

“Carol?” I asked.

“Yes, Kate?”

I set the pencil back down. “Do you believe in God?”

She pursed her lips, eyes going a little bit dark. She didn’t answer me for a long minute, and then she let out her breath. “I don’t know, honestly.”

I nodded. “Okay.”

“You think that’s the reason you leaned forward right then?”

I shrugged. “Well. I don’t know. I mean, if I hadn’t, I would have been shot. And I wasn’t wearing a bulletproof vest, so the odds are good that I could have died. So, for me to bend over at exactly that time …”

I let my voice trail off, and I picked up my pencil again.

Carol didn’t say anything.

It took me another forty-five minutes before I finished the drawing. We didn’t talk as much during the last part of it.

I held it up when I finished. “What do you think?” I asked quietly.

She looked at the drawing and then closed her eyes. “That’s him.”

Detective Masterson walked in.

“How are we doing, girls?” he asked.

Carol picked up her purse. “That’s him,” she said, pointing. “That’s him and it’s time for me to go.” She looked over at me as she stood. “Thank you, Kate. Stay safe.”