If Kelly Wilson was a loner, she was the most popular loner at school.
Rusty said, “Excuse me, miss. I’m not stepping on your scruples here if I ask you to read me some of this?” He tapped his temple. “Don’t have my spectacles.”
Charlie indicated that he should turn the book around. She read the first line that jumped out at her, a blocky print that looked like it belonged to a boy. “‘Hey girl thanks for the awesome head. You suck.’” She looked up at her father. “Whoa.”
“Whoa, indeed.” Rusty was unshockable. Charlie had given up trying years ago. “Continue.”
“‘Gonna rape you bitch.’ No signature.” She skimmed around. “Another rape threat, ‘Gonna do some sodomy on your ass bitch,’ sodomy spelled with an ‘i.’”
“At the end or in the middle?”
“End.” She searched for some pink cursive, hoping the girls proved to be a lesser evil. “‘You are a fucking whore and I hate you and I want you to die—six exclamation points. K-I-T, Mindy Zowada.’”
“K-I-T?” Rusty asked.
“Keep in touch.”
“Heart-felt.”
Charlie scanned the other notes, which were equally as lewd as the first few. “They’re all like that, Dad. Either calling her a whore or referring to sex or asking for sex or saying they’re going to rape her.”
He turned to the next page, which had been left blank so that classmates could write more notes. There were no notes. A giant cock and balls took up most of the space. At the top was a drawing of a girl with stringy hair and wide eyes. Her mouth was open. There was an arrow pointed at her head with the word KELLY.
Rusty said, “A picture slowly starts to emerge.”
“Keep going.”
He turned more pages. More drawings. More lewd messages. Some rape threats. Kelly’s class picture had been defiled; this time the cock and balls pointing at her mouth was ejaculating. Charlie said, “They must have passed this around the school. Hundreds of kids were in on it.”
“She was how old do you think when this was done?”
“Twelve or thirteen?”
“And she kept it a-a-a-all this time.” He drew out the word as if he was testing how it would sound in front of a jury. Charlie couldn’t fault him the performance. He was holding in his hands a textbook example of a mitigating factor.
Kelly Wilson had not only been bullied at school. The sexual aggression in the messages from her classmates pointed to something even darker.
Rusty asked, “Did the mother say the girl was sexually assaulted?”
“The mother thinks the girl is a snowflake.”
“All right,” Rusty said. “So, if something happened, then it might be in her school records or there might be somebody you could ask at the DA’s office who—”
“No.” Charlie knew to shut him down quickly. “You can ask Ava to request a copy of her school records and you can do a juvenile court query on a possible file.”
“I will do exactly that.”
Charlie said, “You need a really good computer guy, someone who can do forensic searches into social media accounts. If enough kids were involved in this yearbook project, there might even be a separate Facebook page for it.”
“I don’t need a guy. I’ve got CNN.” He was right. The media would already have experts scouring the web. Their reporters would be talking to Kelly’s classmates, her teachers, looking for friends or people who claimed to be friends who were willing to go on camera and say anything, true or not, about Kelly Wilson.
Charlie asked, “Did you get a chance to check on Mrs. Pinkman?”
“I tried to pay a social visit, but she was heavily sedated.” He exhaled a raspy breath. “Bad enough to lose a partner, but to lose ’em like that is the very definition of anguish.”
Charlie studied him, trying to figure out his tone. Twice now he had mentioned Gamma. She supposed that was her fault, considering her involvement this morning at the school. Another arrow she had slung her father’s way. “Where did you go today after the hospital?”
“Took a little side trip down to Kennesaw to do a satellite interview. You’ll be treated to your daddy’s handsome visage all over your TV tonight.”
Charlie wasn’t going to be near a TV if she could help it. “You’re going to have to be careful with Ava, Daddy. She doesn’t understand a lot. I don’t think it’s just shock. She doesn’t track.”
“Daughter has the same problem. I’d put her IQ in the low seventies.” He tapped the yearbook. “Thanks for the help, my dear. Did Ben get in touch with you this morning?”
Her heart flipped the same way it had when she’d first heard that Ben had called. “No, do you know why he was calling me?”
“I do.”
Her desk phone rang. Rusty started to leave.
“Dad?”
“You will need your umbrella tomorrow. Sixty-three percent chance of rain in the AM.” He hummed a passable “Happy Birthday,” giving her a salute as he backed down the hall, knees high like a marching-band leader.
She said, “You’re going to give yourself another heart attack.”
“You wish!”
Charlie rolled her eyes. He always had to make a fucking exit. She picked up the phone. “Charlie Quinn.”
“I’m not supposed to be talking to you,” Terri, the youngest of Ben’s older sisters, said. “But I wanted to make sure you were all right.”
“I’m good.” Charlie could hear Terri’s twins screaming in the background. Ben called them “Denise” and “Denephew.” She told Terri, “Ben said he called you guys this morning.”
“He was pretty upset.”
“Upset at me or about me?”
“Well, you know that’s been a damn nine-month-long mystery.”
It wasn’t, actually, but Charlie knew anything she told Terri would be passed on to Carla and Peggy, who would tell Ben’s mother, so she kept her mouth firmly shut.
Terri asked, “You there?”
“Sorry, I’m at work.”
Terri didn’t take the hint. “I was thinking when Ben called about how funny he is about talking about things. You have to poke and poke and poke and then maybe, eventually, he’ll tell you back in 1998 you stole a French fry off his plate and it really hurt his feelings.”
She said more, but Charlie tuned her out, listening instead to Terri’s children try to kill each other. Charlie had been sucked in by Ben’s bitchy sisters once before, taking them at face value when she should have realized there was a reason Ben only saw them at Thanksgiving. They were bossy, unthinking women who tried to rule Ben with an iron fist. He was in college before he realized that men were allowed to pee standing up.
Terri said, “And then I was talking to Carla about this thing going on with you two. Doesn’t make any sense at all. You know he loves you. But he’s got something up his butt and he won’t say anything.” She stopped a moment to yell at her children, then picked up the conversation where she’d left off. “Has Benny said anything to you yet? Given you any kind of reason?”
“No,” Charlie lied, thinking if they knew Ben at all, they would know that he would never walk out without a reason.
“Keep poking at him. I bet it’s nothing.”
It wasn’t nothing.
“He’s too sensitive for his own good. Did I ever tell you about the time at Disneyland when—”
“All we can do is work on it.”
“Y’all need to work harder,” she said. “Nine months is too long, Charlie. Peggy was saying the other day how she grew a whole baby in nine months so why can’t y’all figure out—shit.”
Charlie felt her hand tighten around the phone.
“Shit,” Terri repeated. “You know I don’t think before I speak. That’s just how I am.”
“It’s fine, really. Don’t worry about it. But, look, I’ve got a client calling on the other line.” Charlie spoke too fast to let her get a word in. “Thanks so much for calling. Please send my best to the o
thers and I’ll talk to you later.”