The Competition Read Online Free PDF Page B

their possible motives.
    “No. But I heard that they called out the jocks when they were in the gym. Everyone’s saying they probably got bullied by them.”
    “‘Everyone’s saying’?” I asked.
    Harley held out his cell phone, the bane of most investigations. We always try to keep witnesses from talking to each other and influencing each other’s memories. But it was obviously a hopeless cause in this case.
    Harley leaned forward. “Can I ask you a question?”
    I nodded.
    “Have you seen Christy Shilling? I’ve been calling and calling, but I keep getting her voice mail. She’s a cheerleader. She was in the gym when…” Harley licked dry lips that barely moved. “Is she okay?” His voice cracked.
    “I don’t know, Harley,” I said. “It’s going to take a little while to find everyone. I’m sorry.”
    Harley’s mouth trembled as he nodded. He’d been holding it together pretty well, but I could see that wasn’t going to last much longer. I fought the urge to put my arms around him. The paramedic gave me a warning look. I nodded. I wasn’t going to ask him any more questions. At least, not right now. Whatever else he’d seen—and I didn’t think it was much—he was too traumatized to remember it. We’d come back to Harley when he was in better shape. I looked at Bailey, who shook her head. We thanked him and headed for Bailey’s car.
    “You said some kids got video?” I asked.
    “Yeah, we’ve been collecting their phones,” Graden said. “Which really made them happy.”
    “Who’s got them?”
    “I’ll check.”
    “No, I’ll do it,” Bailey said. “You’ve got bigger fish to fry. Thanks for the walk-through.”
    Graden nodded to Bailey, gave me a warm smile, and walked off to do lieutenant business.
    Bailey started to scroll on her cell phone but stopped abruptly as she stared over my left shoulder. “Well, what do you know.”
    I turned to see the head coroner, Dr. Shoenmacher—affectionately known as Dr. Shoe—and my buddy, coroner’s investigator Scott Ferrier, walking briskly behind him. The head honcho showing up at a crime scene was a first for me. And it was even more surprising given the fact that the perpetrators were dead. But I was all for it. In a tragedy of this magnitude, we had to pull out all the stops to answer the how, the why, and—the most impossible question of them all—the what to do to make sure it never happens again. But I was sure it was also a political move, a grand CYA to head off the lawsuits that were probably already being cooked up in law firms around the county.
    “Want to go watch him do his thing while I chase down the cell phones?” Bailey asked.
    “You mind?”
    “No. I’ll meet you up there when I’m done. I’d like to watch the master in action myself.”
    I started to head back into the school, then remembered a question I’d meant to ask Graden. “Hey, Bailey!” She stopped and turned. “Who’s getting the footage from the school surveillance cameras?” Most schools had them nowadays. And I had a feeling that would soon beg the question as to why they didn’t also all have metal detectors.
    “There’s some unis on it,” she said. “We should have it pretty soon.”
    I hurried back into the school. When I got to the library, I found Dr. Shoe standing to the right side of the suspects’ bodies, hands on his hips, wearing a frown that made him look like a bald eagle. He moved down to their feet, backed a few steps away, and tilted his head to the left, still frowning. “Scottie, get me the—no, wait.” Dr. Shoe scanned the surrounding crowd of officers, crime scene techs, and paramedics with narrowed eyes. “No one moved these bodies, did they?” In near unison, the group shook their heads and said, “No.” Dr. Shoe looked skeptical. “Where’s the first officer?”
    A blonde man with a runner’s physique raised his hand. “I was the first EMT, but a SWAT officer was already here. He told me to forget