Anatomy of a Murderer by Tim Floreen

Author:Tim Floreen
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Simon Pulse
Published: 2016-10-18T00:00:00+00:00

38

My heart went back to its dead sprint while I tried to make sense of the scene. A police officer in a big navy coat and furry hat stood in front of the cruiser, waving traffic away from the school. Closer to the building a couple ambulances stood among the idling police cars, and hordes of students milled around on the school’s front yard. My hands clutched the steering wheel so tight the bones popped. What really chilled me was how familiar the scene looked. It felt like I’d just jumped back in time one year.

A honk from behind shoved me awake again. The cars in front of me had turned onto a side street, redirected by the cop. He waved me forward. I stopped next to him and cranked down the Saab’s window. “What happened?”

“There’s been an incident at the school,” the officer said. “Class is canceled today, buddy.”

“What kind of incident? Was anybody hurt?”

“We’re still investigating. Right now, I just need you to turn here and proceed home.”

The tightness of his mouth underneath his frosty mustache told me he knew more than he was saying and it had him rattled. I cranked the window back up and followed the other cars down the side street. As soon as I noticed a parking space, I swerved into it, jumped out, and pelted back toward Duluth Central. Did all this have something to do with Franklin? The question played on a loop in my head.

The police still hadn’t managed to clear the mob of students and teachers lingering in front of the school. I dodged past the cop redirecting traffic and plunged into the crowd. As I swam through the throng, I grabbed a few kids and asked what was happening, but no one seemed to know a thing. I knocked into a few others and had to shout apologies over my shoulder.

I’d almost made it to the school’s main entrance when Lydia and Tor appeared in front of me, his arm around her shoulders. I seized Lydia with both hands. She looked up from her phone, and I got another jolt when I saw the tears streaking her cheeks.

“What is it?” I panted. “What the hell’s going on?”

Her face crumpled as she clutched me back. “It’s Callie,” she choked. “Rem, she’s dead.”

My breath stopped. I twisted out of her grip and stumbled back a few steps, jostling someone behind me but not caring. The hot press of bodies around me had become unimportant, insubstantial, less solid than the words Lydia had just spoken. I threw Tor a questioning glance. That can’t be true, can it?

He looked down at the trampled snow and nodded.

“How?”

Tor motioned for us to step farther away from the other students. In a low voice he answered, “Somebody shot her.” Now his face contorted too. “Last night, in the cafeteria.”

The world around me seemed less real every second. Sort of pale, like an overexposed photo. The noise of the crowd had become tinny and distant. “What?”

“The police aren’t telling people yet.

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