My face pinched together. “Andee doesn’t volunteer at a shelter.”
“It was definitely her. I made sure to say hi and ask her about what dogs would make the best family pets. My oldest daughter’s looking to add a new furball member to their family.” Severson spun one of the picture frames on his desk around so I could see the snapshot of his daughter and young family. I found myself inserting Andee into the photo, trying, yet failing to picture her posed in matching ivory sweaters with her own family one day. “I’ve never heard Andee pair so many words together at one time, let alone in such an impassioned manner. You must have a menagerie of pets at home I’d imagine.”
“No, actually we’ve never owned a pet.” I glanced away from the family photo. “I’m allergic.”
“She’s certainly got a way with animals.”
“Too bad that doesn’t translate to humans,” I grumbled under my breath. “But thank you for informing me about her volunteering at the shelter. I’ll talk with her about it . . . and why she failed to mention it to her parents.”
Severson folded his hands across his desk, his eyes contemplative. “Mrs. Wolff, as one parent to another, Andee’s going through something beyond the scope of typical teenage experience. If I were you, I’d try to find some way to get her to open up about what it is, and what she might need from you.”
This time when I bristled, it wasn’t so discreet. “Andee’s fine,” I said, staring him straight in the eye until he looked away. “If we can get back to the reason I was called in—how long is she suspended this time?”
His expression drew from concern to stern in one exhale. “Both of the boys and their families have decided to overlook today’s lapse in judgment,” he said, a definitive condition in his tone, “but this is it—the last chance. Andee pulls something like this again, and I’ll have no choice but to expel her.”
“Understood.” I rose from the chair, realizing I’d shared longer conversations with Principal Severson in the past ten days than I had with my husband. Thankfully, the bell rang and I took that as my own opportunity to move on. “I’ll talk with her. Get her to understand this is it—no more chances.”
Severson came around his desk, walking with me out of the office. “I know it must be hard being different, especially in a high school like this.” He scanned the hallway as students filled it with an army of straight smiles and polished hairstyles; uniforms pressed and accessories monogrammed. With her dyed hair, copious piercings, and knee-high combat boots, she would stick out. “But hopefully Andee will realize that not everyone is out to get her and that most people are good.”
I observed the herd for a moment, remembering what my own days had been like in a private high school. For a few beats, my heart ached for whatever my daughter was going through.
“When you’re in my line of work, you realize the opposite is true,” I replied as I eased into the crowd. “Most people aren’t good.”
Back inside my car, I resisted the urge to text Andee about my meeting with Principal Severson and that she was grounded for the remainder of her existence. I’d talk with her about it later, once I’d had a chance to cool down and could form some semblance of a constructive conversation.
Minutes away from the office, a call came in from Connor.
“What’s the latest?” I answered.
There was a length of silence on the other end that had me checking to make sure the call hadn’t been lost.
“Skovil’s body shows signs of defensive wounds.” Connor’s voice echoed through my SUV, sterile and tentative.
I squinted out the windshield as I replayed the words in my head. “Defensive wounds? Why is this a surprise? A man like that probably has a multitude of them peppering his body at any given time.”
“Not these kind.” Connor’s voice lowered, his words muffled as if he had his hand cupped over his mouth and the phone. “Based on what Benjy told me, these were sustained close to the time of death.”
“Shit.” I rammed my palm into the steering wheel before pulling over. “They’re going to rule this is a potential homicide, aren’t they?”
“I think so. I mean, yeah, they’ll have to open an investigation. Run more tests on the body, comb his apartment for evidence.” Connor exhaled, his voice the total opposite of how it had been this morning. “I guess we haven’t heard the last of Darryl Skovil.”
“Son of a bitch.” My eyes closed. “And this friend of yours, he’s a good medical examiner? Knows the difference between defensive wounds and track marks?”
A huff came through the phone. “Pretty sure that’s why they require MEs to get their PhDs, so they don’t make those kind of pivotal errors when processing a body.”
“And there’s no chance he could be wrong about the defensive wounds?” I continued.
“If you’re looking for a percentage, Benjy gave me a ninety-nine percent positive one. But that probably doesn’t make you feel any better, does it?”
My tongue pushed into the side of my cheek. “No.”
“Me either.” Connor gave a frustrated sound. “I know this sounds all kinds of wrong, but it was so much more satisfying to think a guy like Skovil took his own life.”
“That’s not wrong, that’s human.” I found myself watching the people on the sidewalk, the early stream of the after work shuffle, anxiety unfurling inside my chest and causing me to reach into my purse for yet another pill to fix something gone awry inside me. “Do you know if the police have been notified?”
“Soon. If not already.”
The faces of the children Skovil had hurt settled into my mind. None of them had been older than nine years old, yet all of them were now in possession of eyes that suggested they were old men. The death of innocence—it was the demise of society.
Popping the pill in my mouth, I swallowed it without water. “And there’s not a chance that your good friend Benjy would consider failing to mention these defensive wounds in his report? All he’d need to do is confirm the suicide and Skovil’s body would be cremated and no one would ever question it.” I released my grip on the steering wheel when I noticed my knuckles were stark white.
“Yeah, I’m fairly confident he would like to keep his job and not go to prison. Plus, there’s this whole issue of a moral code Benjy takes to heart.”
I rubbed my forehead for a moment, wondering if this could all be a dream. “It’s funny, isn’t it? The way society follows the rules of morality even when dealing with the morally devoid?” A sharp sound rattled in my chest. “How in the hell are we ever going to win the battle of good versus evil with odds like that?”
Connor groaned. “Don’t be a downer. I’m already sinking in the pits of despair.”
“You and me both.” Turning on my blinker, I pulled back into traffic. “I’m a few minutes away. Let’s connect in my office, and hopefully you’ll have better news for me. Like Skovil’s body spontaneously combusted into flames. Or Benjy realized he was completely wrong and is considering a career change. Or you were pranking me six months before April first. I’m not picky—I just don’t want to hear there’s going to be some investigation to arrest Skovil’s murderer, who our office will then have to prosecute.” I had to take a deep breath following that spiel. “God, it’s ridiculous, isn’t it? The office attempting to charge Skovil to the fullest extent of the law is the same one that will likely be prosecuting the person who murdered him?”