scratched his chin, thinking. What he knew of teen killers fitted pretty well with this picture. Loners, often with no history of trouble. They build up steam like a pressure cooker, and then they explode.
‘Didn’t he have any friends here?’ the lieutenant continued.
‘Not that I know of, but then I’m not watching them the whole goddamn day! I only noticed Russell because he often used to sit on his own with his headphones on. I even went over to speak to him a few times, but he wasn’t much of a talker.’
A shadow appeared on the floor of the little room.
Allistair McLogan was standing in the doorway.
‘Detective?’ he said with surprise. ‘What are you doing here?’
Lamar raised his eyebrows.
‘My job.’
‘Yes, I can see that. Well, from now on, I’d appreciate it if you’d stop by my office before interrogating my staff.’
Lamar bristled, more annoyed by the principal’shaughty tone than his throwing his weight around.
‘And why’s that? Do you need to “brief ” the whole place before I get here?’
McLogan shook his head fiercely.
‘Of course not, but I do like to know what’s going on under my roof. So, have you made any progress with the investigation?’
Lamar dodged the question. ‘It’s coming along. Since I’ve got you here, what can you tell me about Russell Rod?’
McLogan’s grey moustache twitched.
‘Nothing more than I’ve already told you. A well-behaved boy. Very rarely in my office and never for anything serious. I’ll say it again: there was nothing unbalanced about Russell Rod. No one could have predicted what happened. Have you spoken to his parents?’
‘A colleague of mine has.’
‘Well, perhaps you’d better go see them yourself. They’ll tell you the same thing: a perfectly normal kid. I don’t know what got into him.’
Lamar took a business card out of his wallet and put it down on Quincey’s desk.
‘If you think of anything at all …’ he added.
The principal wanted to see him out, but Lamar declined with a determined smile. As he walked back to his car, the air was getting icier. It wouldn’t be long before the first snow fell.
Lamar had to admit he wasn’t keen on this McLogan. The distraught white-haired man of the day of the massacre had given way to an inquisitor who wanted to rule his school as if it were his kingdom. But he was only trying to protect himself, concluded the lieutenant, which was entirely understandable. The media had laid into him as ‘the principal who hadn’t seen the threat coming’.
Lamar went back to his office to pore through the files on illegal arms dealers that had been put aside for him.
Since criminal cases were now all logged digitally, he could easily get hold of more detailed reports. He looked into the methods used by the best-known dealers in stolen goods. The first few hours of reading drew a blank.
Late in the afternoon, a note from the Firearms Department came in. It listed a dozen names of individuals known to have used a blowtorch to remove serial numbers from firearms.
Lamar spent the next three hours ‘placing’ these suspects.
Six of them were still in prison. Four had no permanent residence and of the last two, one had been dead a year and a half, and the other had left the state for Florida six months earlier.
Lamar let out a long sigh.
He went home around ten for a night of dreamless sleep, and was one of the first back in the office the next day. He caught up with Capparel in the late morning. The three suicides had been confirmed. Detectives had interviewed the parents, blended families or single mothers in all three cases. They had turned the kids’ bedrooms upside down.
There was no link.
Lamar pressed Capparel on the similarities in the weapons used, adamant it was too much of a coincidence to be just that. Capparel paused for a moment, before giving Lamar the go-ahead to dig deeper in that direction.
The giant, as his partners called him, was heading out for
‘Didn’t he have any friends here?’ the lieutenant continued.
‘Not that I know of, but then I’m not watching them the whole goddamn day! I only noticed Russell because he often used to sit on his own with his headphones on. I even went over to speak to him a few times, but he wasn’t much of a talker.’
A shadow appeared on the floor of the little room.
Allistair McLogan was standing in the doorway.
‘Detective?’ he said with surprise. ‘What are you doing here?’
Lamar raised his eyebrows.
‘My job.’
‘Yes, I can see that. Well, from now on, I’d appreciate it if you’d stop by my office before interrogating my staff.’
Lamar bristled, more annoyed by the principal’shaughty tone than his throwing his weight around.
‘And why’s that? Do you need to “brief ” the whole place before I get here?’
McLogan shook his head fiercely.
‘Of course not, but I do like to know what’s going on under my roof. So, have you made any progress with the investigation?’
Lamar dodged the question. ‘It’s coming along. Since I’ve got you here, what can you tell me about Russell Rod?’
McLogan’s grey moustache twitched.
‘Nothing more than I’ve already told you. A well-behaved boy. Very rarely in my office and never for anything serious. I’ll say it again: there was nothing unbalanced about Russell Rod. No one could have predicted what happened. Have you spoken to his parents?’
‘A colleague of mine has.’
‘Well, perhaps you’d better go see them yourself. They’ll tell you the same thing: a perfectly normal kid. I don’t know what got into him.’
Lamar took a business card out of his wallet and put it down on Quincey’s desk.
‘If you think of anything at all …’ he added.
The principal wanted to see him out, but Lamar declined with a determined smile. As he walked back to his car, the air was getting icier. It wouldn’t be long before the first snow fell.
Lamar had to admit he wasn’t keen on this McLogan. The distraught white-haired man of the day of the massacre had given way to an inquisitor who wanted to rule his school as if it were his kingdom. But he was only trying to protect himself, concluded the lieutenant, which was entirely understandable. The media had laid into him as ‘the principal who hadn’t seen the threat coming’.
Lamar went back to his office to pore through the files on illegal arms dealers that had been put aside for him.
Since criminal cases were now all logged digitally, he could easily get hold of more detailed reports. He looked into the methods used by the best-known dealers in stolen goods. The first few hours of reading drew a blank.
Late in the afternoon, a note from the Firearms Department came in. It listed a dozen names of individuals known to have used a blowtorch to remove serial numbers from firearms.
Lamar spent the next three hours ‘placing’ these suspects.
Six of them were still in prison. Four had no permanent residence and of the last two, one had been dead a year and a half, and the other had left the state for Florida six months earlier.
Lamar let out a long sigh.
He went home around ten for a night of dreamless sleep, and was one of the first back in the office the next day. He caught up with Capparel in the late morning. The three suicides had been confirmed. Detectives had interviewed the parents, blended families or single mothers in all three cases. They had turned the kids’ bedrooms upside down.
There was no link.
Lamar pressed Capparel on the similarities in the weapons used, adamant it was too much of a coincidence to be just that. Capparel paused for a moment, before giving Lamar the go-ahead to dig deeper in that direction.
The giant, as his partners called him, was heading out for
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