Sign up for CSI camp. You’ll gather evidence, unravel a mystery, and play with gross stuff. Deductive reasoning skills are a known side effect.
—VICTOR FLEMMING
We are in full-on camp countdown mode.
Today is the last regular work day before camp starts on Monday. I ride in with Victor, and Journey’s already waiting in the lab when we arrive. I can tell from the wary way he looks at me that he’s not completely comfortable with how we left last night.
Clay shows up a few minutes later, lugging a heavy toolbox in each hand. Both Lysa and Lyman are coming with Spam and they should be here soon.
Victor scrawls rambling to-do lists all over the glass window and we waste no time getting to work.
By midmorning, everything is progressing perfectly.
Thanks to Lyman’s incredible organizational skills and attention to detail, the four of us finish assembling thirty-two camper crime scene kits, which include a mini fingerprint kit, flashlight, disposable camera, and instruction cards outlining each activity. They’re stacked on the display counter behind the instructor’s desk.
Victor has approved our schedule and activities, so I’m typing up the hour-by-hour official schedule on Victor’s computer.
Spam is creating slide presentations. Every morning we can run a new set of slides as a way to introduce the activities and get the campers excited.
Lysa is putting together the master list of the campers’ names, ages, contact information, and allergies. She’s also working on name badges and a seating chart.
We are perfectly on schedule. And we’re going to look amazing from day one.
Unfortunately, the crime lab and Clay’s to-do list aren’t in quite as good order. But Victor said they didn’t have to be.
“As long as there isn’t a sudden crime spree in Iron Rain we’re okay,” Victor says. “As long as there isn’t a sudden crime spree we have a little more leeway with the lab. The important thing is that the classroom is ready for the inspector tomorrow morning.”
Clay is feverishly installing the fire alarms and the brackets for fire extinguishers. “All the alarms and extinguishers will be in by this afternoon,” he says.
Meanwhile, it turns out that Lyman is pretty creative. With lots of weird suggestions from each of us, he’s arranging the crime scene tableau.
The first day of camp is going to feature the weirdest Halloween display ever.
Lyman started with a life-size plastic skeleton from Miss P’s old classroom. He’s dressing it in some old clothes and sunglasses Spam brought from home. He sprawls the skeleton dramatically across a chair near the front of the room.
Journey makes prints of his shoe and tapes them to the floor.
I leave an obvious fingerprint on the lens of the skeleton’s sunglasses.
Lysa has made up a batch of Miss P’s fake blood. She puddles some on the floor and splatters some on the side of the desk. She’s also added a few additional props: a bottle labeled POISON and a jar labeled DRUGS.
Clay is so impressed by our scene that he donates an old hammer. He says we should make it look like the murder weapon. Spam manages to wedge the clawed end of the hammer in the skeleton’s eye socket and moves the sunglasses up on his forehead.
By the time we’re done, the scene is authentic and scary enough that Miss Blankenship actually lets out a tiny shriek when she stops by unexpectedly and click, clicks right into it.
On the heels of Miss Blankenship, two police officers show up in the classroom on official business, looking for Victor. Lysa summons Victor by tapping on the glass.
I recognize the older one. It’s Officer Baldwin. He was the first one I talked to after finding Miss P’s body. And he told me then that I was going to be okay.
“Hey, Officer Baldwin,” I say. “Do you remember me?”
He brightens into a big smile. “Well, there’s our girl,” he says. He looks around, making a sweeping gesture around the classroom and lab. “Looks like you’ve got some fancy stuff going on here.”
“It’s going to be interesting,” I say.
Officer Baldwin sets the file box on one of the desks. It’s labeled COLTER, RODNEY.
“Is this what you’ve been waiting for?” he asks.
“Not me,” I say. “But yes. My uncle has been waiting for it.”
Victor thanks the officers, signs a receipt, and takes the box. Journey uses his thumb to unlock the steel door of the evidence room.
We watch as Victor opens one of the lockers and puts the box on a shelf. I move to the steel mesh wall between the lab and classroom so I have a better view of what they’re doing.
Victor lifts the lid on the box. On top are a few sheets of paper—it looks like a list. He runs his finger down the list of items and stops.
He shows the list to Journey, pointing to a particular line.
Victor reaches into the box and runs his hand around. When he pulls his hand up, he’s holding a plastic bag with some spent shells in the bottom.
Journey makes eye contact and gives me a strong nod.
Victor leaves the bag of shells in the box, and slides the box into a locker. He and Journey step out of the evidence room. Journey tests the door to be sure it’s closed and securely locked.