The Suicide Club (9 page)

Home.
At one time the thought of going there, taking off her clothes and her shoes and sitting down to dinner in front of the TV would have seemed like heaven. Now, however…

Even as she wondered if Jace would be keeping his vigil tonight, she knew the answer. That was a bridge she’d burned pretty effectively. A tendency on her part. Unlike Shannon’s on-again-off-again relationship with Rick Carlisle, once Lindsey knew something wasn’t going to work, she didn’t see any reason to belabor the point. Usually she had no regrets. In this case…

In this case, it was going to be another long, lonely and sleepless night. Plenty of hours to revisit every word she’d said to Jace last night.

And this time, at least, plenty of regrets.

F
riday morning, after a third nearly sleepless night, Lindsey set her tote bag down on the office floor and picked up the ballpoint chained to the sign-in sheet. She scrawled her signature, glancing up at the clock behind the desk of the school secretary before writing 7:02 beside her name.

“Did you hear?” Melanie leaned across the front counter to whisper the words.

Obviously, whatever this was about, Lindsey
hadn’t
heard. Given the secretary’s air of secrecy and the events of the last few days, she wasn’t sure she wanted to.

Only a couple of faculty members had asked her about the incident with the snake. Both had heard it from one of her neighbors, who’d stuck to his theory that the rattler had gotten into her house and her laundry hamper in some gardening clothes.

Lindsey had downplayed the whole thing, mostly because she didn’t want to answer endless questions about what had happened. School, with its demands on her intellect, had become the one place she didn’t have to think about the damned snake.

“Heard what?”

“About Andrea Moore.”

Although she had no idea yet what this was about, a knot of dread formed in the pit of Lindsey’s stomach. “What about her?”

“Suicide,” Melanie whispered, lifting her brows. “Last night. The police are with Dave right now.”

“Oh, my God.”

Nausea so powerful she literally had to put her hand over her mouth surged into Lindsey’s throat. All she could think about was Andrea standing hesitantly in the doorway of her classroom yesterday, assuring her she’d only come to ask about the coming test.

What she was feeling must not have been apparent to Melanie. Her voice still lowered, the secretary continued to add details. “Nobody else knows. Not yet. The county’s gonna send out grief counselors today. I just thought staff should be aware, so they can be prepared when the kids do find out.”

“Excuse me, ladies.”

Lindsey automatically stepped to the side, at the same time turning to see Walt Harrison, who taught honors history, set his brown-bag lunch on the counter as he picked up the pen.

“Have you heard, Walt?” Melanie asked him.

“Heard what?”

“About Andrea Moore.”

“Andrea? What about her?” Walt asked as he wrote his name.

“She killed herself. Cut her wrists.”

“Who the hell told you something like that?”

The anger in Walt’s voice made the registrar pull back. After a second, she recovered. “The sheriff’s department. That’s who. They’re in there with Dave right now.”

“Son of a bitch.”

“She was a junior. You must have taught her last year.”

It was obvious Walt was shaken. Lindsey realized belatedly that he had a son in that same class. Suicide always brought home the terrible vulnerability of this age group.

“I had her this year and last. Son of a bitch,” Walt said again, his voice softer.

“Bad family situation?” the secretary prodded.

“I don’t know. Tim might, but…She was just…I don’t know. One of those kids you like. Never said much. Worked hard. Listened. Cared.”

Tim was also in Lindsey’s Honors English. His father’s words about the dead girl might have as easily described him.

“You taught her, too, didn’t you, Linds?” Walt asked. “She was in your program.”

Lindsey nodded. “She came by my room yesterday afternoon. She wanted to talk about a test. At least that’s what she said. I had no reason…” Regret choked off the faltering words. When she’d regained control, she went on, trying to make them both understand. “I had Scholars’ Bowl practice. I told her she could walk down to the auditorium with me, but…”

“Don’t,” Walt ordered into her sudden silence. “This has nothing to do with you. It never does.”

“Maybe if I’d made time to listen to her. If I’d brought her into the room and closed the door—”

“Stop it. You tried to listen. Maybe her original intent was to talk to you about whatever was going on, but for some reason, she didn’t take the opportunity. Her choice. And there was
nothing
you could do about that.”

How about be five minutes late to practice? Sit down and take the trembling hand of a girl who was obviously upset?

“So she was what?” Melanie asked. “Sixteen?”

“Yeah. I guess so,” Walt agreed, turning his attention back to the secretary. “Sixteen. What a screwed-up world. God, as a parent you never can rest easy. Not with teenagers.”

And as a teacher, Lindsey thought. Even though she’d sensed Andrea’s anxiety, she’d never dreamed it was intense enough to make her take her own life.

“I don’t think you have anything to worry about,” Melanie said. “Not with Tim.”

“I wouldn’t doubt Andrea’s mother thought the same thing.” Walt picked up his lunch and turned to look at Lindsey again. “We have them an hour a day. We aren’t responsible for whatever’s going on in their lives. Or for how screwed up those are. Everybody here knows how much you care about your kids.”

“I should have cared enough about this one to sit down with her for five minutes.”

“You offered your time. She turned you down. If that’s what she came to you about…” Walt hesitated. He swallowed before he went on, fighting an emotion that was palpable. “Then it was a testament to the fact that she knew you would care. She could have come to anyone at this school, but she chose you.”

“And I let her down.”

“Like hell, Lindsey. You aren’t a mind reader.”

“Maybe if I’d probed a little deeper…” She took a breath, replaying those few minutes in her head.

“It just brings home to you how goddamn fragile they are. Even the ones you think have it made.”

Lindsey nodded, unsure if that reminder was supposed to be a comfort. Maybe it was a simply personal reflection, since Walt himself had a teenager.

“Any word on the arrangements?” Walt’s question had been directed at Melanie, normally a font of such information.

“They’ve not made any yet. They have to do an autopsy.”

“God,” Walt said under his breath. “Let me know when you hear something.”

“I will,” Melanie said. And she then added, as she did every morning, “Have a good day.”

Walt didn’t respond, walking out of the office. As he disappeared, Melanie’s eyes came back to Lindsey. “You need to go tell Dave she came to see you.”

Tell Dave.
Did that mean also telling whoever was in his office from the sheriff’s department? “Now?”

“Want me to buzz in and ask? That detective that was here before is the one handling the investigation.”

As Melanie walked over and picked up the phone to ring Dave, a dozen questions formed in Lindsey’s mind. What about a teenage girl’s suicide did the sheriff’s department need to investigate? Even if that was something they did routinely, why would this one have become Jace’s investigation?

Because he’s already investigating things that he believes are connected to the school, she realized. Was it possible the authorities were thinking Andrea’s death had something to do with the church fires? That Andrea was involved?

Out of all the students she taught, Andrea would be among the last she’d suspect of that. Still, the fact that the girl had come to see her shortly after the incident with the snake—

“Dave said to come. They want to know everything you do.”

Although he could guess how little sleep Lindsey had had in the last few nights, Jace was a shocked by her appearance. The discoloration beneath her eyes was to be expected. The lack of color in her cheeks was not.

“Come in, Lindsey,” Dave Campbell invited.

As he had last time, the principal had agreed to anything Jace wanted as far as the investigation was concerned. His only caveat was that the grief counselors, composed of all those in the county with training in this sort of thing, be allowed to meet with the students before Jace questioned any of them.

That was okay with him. The time for asking those questions would come later. Right now, he wanted to be an observer. Gauge reactions. Feel out the faculty members about the girl. He just hadn’t expected to start with Lindsey.

He’d known he would have to talk to her, despite what had happened between them Wednesday night. According to the girl’s mother, Andrea was in her program.

“Melanie said I should tell you—” Lindsey began.

“Sit down,” Jace suggested, indicating his chair.

Both of them had stood as she’d entered. She was still hovering near the door, looking fragile enough that something moved in his chest. An unfamiliar tightening he wanted to deny.

In response to his suggestion, she crossed the space between them. Before she sat down in the chair he’d offered, her eyes met his. In them he could see exhaustion and pain.

When she was seated, Jace took the back of one of the other chairs in the room and moved it parallel to hers. Only when he sat down again did Campbell retake his seat behind the desk.

“What is it you want to tell us, Lindsey?” Campbell asked.

“Andrea Moore came to see me yesterday afternoon. She said she wanted to talk about the test I’m giving on Monday.” She hesitated, as if only now realizing that every plan any of them had made for the next few days might now be put on hold. After a moment, she moistened her lips and went on with her story.

“I had Scholars’ Bowl practice. I asked Andrea to walk with me down to the auditorium because I was late. She said what she wanted to talk about wasn’t that important. We talked a little about the test. I tried to reassure her that it wouldn’t be anything she couldn’t handle. She said that everything was harder this year. More stressful. Even with her saying that, it never crossed my mind that she’d…” She shook her head.

“Nobody could have anticipated this,” Campbell offered. “For God’s sake don’t start blaming yourself for not knowing what was on her mind.”

“What kind of stress?” Jace asked.

Lindsey turned, her eyes widening. He’d already acknowledged her fragility, but he had to ask these questions. What she’d just said made him curious about what was going on in this girl’s life. And more curious about what she might have been involved in.

“Her classes. That’s what we were talking about.”

“Did she mention anything else?”

“Just that everything was more stressful this year.”

“Good student?”

“She was a hard worker,” Lindsey hedged. “Things didn’t come as easily for Andrea as they did for some of the others. That’s why she had such good study skills. I tried to tell her that. To reassure her that she’d do fine.”

Lindsey seemed to run down all at once, dropping her eyes to the strap of the tote bag she twisted in her hands. Since Jace didn’t believe Andrea Moore had slit her wrists because she had a test coming up, closing the subject was fine with him. There were other things to consider, and as long as Lindsey had it in her head that the girl was overworked and stressed about grades, she’d be reluctant to consider them.

According to her mother, the girl had a history of depression, which had brought on previous episodes of cutting.

She’d been in therapy for a couple of years and seemed to be doing much better. Then the mom had walked into her bathroom last night and found her dead.

“Did you know she was being treated for depression?”

Lindsey’s eyes came up. “Maybe if I had—”

He cut her off. “Did
you
know that, Dr. Campbell?”

“In all honesty, I had to pull Andrea’s record this morning when you called to remember what she looked like. I confess I knew very little about her.”

“She didn’t do things to bring attention to herself,” Lindsey explained. “Dave knows the worst among our students and the most outstanding. The ones who never make waves…”

Get ignored?
Jace knew that’s what she was feeling right now. That the girl’s coming to her had been some kind of cry for help. One she had ignored.

“Any hint she might have come to apologize?” he asked.

“Apologize?”

“Like maybe she had something to do with the snake.”

“What snake?” Campbell asked.

“Ms. Sloan didn’t tell you?”

“Obviously not.”

“And you haven’t heard?”

Campbell shook his head. “What happened?”

“Somebody broke into Ms. Sloan’s house to put a rattlesnake into her laundry hamper.”

“
What!
Lindsey? Why the hell didn’t you tell me?”

“Because I didn’t want to have to talk about it. I know it’s stupid, but…I just didn’t want to answer questions.”

“When was this?”

“Tuesday night. While I was at PTA.”

“You weren’t hurt. No, I guess not,” Campbell said. “My God, that’s insane. Why would someone do that? You’ve always had such a good rapport with your students. Did something happen that I’m not aware of? Some disciplinary problem—”

“I made the mistake of approaching Ms. Sloan in public,” Jace broke in. “The community knows that I’m in charge of the arson investigation. Some of her students became aware she was talking to me. Apparently one of them didn’t like that.”

“Is that true, Lindsey?”

“They knew I’d talked to Jace. At least my seniors did. I imagine they could figure out what he wanted to talk to me about. Their powers of deduction would be up to that. Whether that had anything to do with what happened…” Lindsey shrugged.

“And now, detective, you’re suggesting Andrea may have come to see Lindsey to…apologize for the snake? That she may have had some role in what took place?”

“It’s a possibility. On Tuesday night someone plays a dangerous trick on Ms. Sloan. Yesterday afternoon, Andrea Moore shows up at her door, says she wants to talk, but decides not to. Then she goes home and cuts her wrists. Seems to me there might be a connection between those events.”

“You didn’t know Andrea,” Lindsey said.

“You don’t think she was involved?”

“Frankly, she’d be the last person I’d suspect.”

“Who’d be the first?”

“I’m sorry?”

“If you have people you’d
never
suspect, then you’re bound to have some you might. I’m asking you who those are.”

“And I’ve already answered that.”