The Rainy Day Killer Read Online Free PDF Page B

reason. We have a bit of money for the camera system and that’s it. Until and unless our budgeting changes next year, elementary schools will continue to be regarded as lower risk comparable to the higher grades.”
    “You don’t have access to a school resource officer?” Horvath asked, referring to the program in which uniformed police officers were present in some schools in the city, often once a week, to pr ovide a variety of preventive and counseling services.
    “No. As I said, the funding isn’t there right now to include elementary schools in the program. The focus currently is on adole scent students and bullying, where retaliation has more potential to be violent, and while I agree with that policy, it leaves us out in the cold, trying to make do and praying that what happened in Connecticut won’t happen here. I’ll have to talk to the board security supervisor but the bottom line is, there’s nothing currently in place.” Her shoulders slumped. “We’re probably going to be barraged by the media, on top of everything else. I need some help right away. My God.”
    Horvath glanced at Karen, who nodded. “We’ll look into it from our end,” he said. “We’ll have them send a patrol car over in the morning before school starts.”
    “Thank you.” Humphries looked up at a knock on her door. “Yes?”
    The secretary opened the door. “Miss Peters is here.”
    “Ask her to wait in Mrs. Miller’s office.” Humphries stood up and looked at Karen. “Is there anything else? I need to make some phone calls.”
    “Not at the moment.” Karen gave her a card. “Please let us know if you think of anything else that might be important.”
    Humphries was tough and very professional, but Karen saw the emotion coming to the surface as they shook hands.
    “Damn it, Detective,” Humphries said quietly, locking eyes with her, “ this is epidemic. We can’t escape it any more. No woman is completely, ever, 100 percent safe, no matter how careful we are. Does that bother you as much as it bothers me?”
    “You have no idea,” Karen replied.
    According to Melanie Peters, she and Theresa Olsen occasionally ate lunch together and had met for coffee once or twice on weekends, but other than that were not especially friendly. She knew nothing about Theresa’s other friends, didn’t believe she had a boyfriend, knew of nothing out of the ordinary that had happened recently to her, and had had no contact with her after three o’clock last Friday afternoon when school was dismissed.
    They let her go, burned another half hour questioning su pport and building staff still on the premises, and found themselves out in the parking lot with their hands in their pockets.
    “That didn’t get us much,” Horvath said, leaning against his car.
    “I know. She was like a damned ghost girl, here five days a week and nobody knows the first thing about her. We probably would’ve gotten more from her kids than from the adults.”
    “No thanks,” Horvath said. “I’d rather interview bikers on death row than a bunch of little kids whose teacher just got raped and murdered by a psychopath.”
    “Yeah, well, pray it doesn’t come to that.” Karen slapped the palm of her hand down on the roof of the Taurus. “Rain’s stopped, let’s walk around the corner to her place.”
    “Fine by me.” Horvath led the way across the parking lot. In the narrow laneway between the school building and the rowhouse, he glanced down at her.
    “Mind if I ask you a question?”
    “What kind of question?”
    “Promise you won’t hit me again?”
    “Sure,” Karen said easily . “Ask away.”
    “I notice your language has improved a little these days. Usually it’s fuck this, fuck that, fuck the other thing. Is something wrong? Maybe, you know, I could help?”
    Karen laughed. “Fuck off, Horvath. For your information, I’m trying to clean it up until I get this wedding over with. I seriously doubt the new in-laws would