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Detective Ryan Greer of the Weippe County Sheriff’s Department asked dispatch to repeat the call.
“Suspected homicide at Warner High School,” his sister, Cathleen repeated, her voice cracking. Both her boys went to school there.
“Was it a shooting?” he asked, fear for his nephews and Shandra pounded in his chest. The last few years with all the news about school shootings, he’d wondered when one would end up in their laps.
“No. It’s a teacher.”
“Over.” He turned on the lights and siren and drove as fast as his SUV could go on marginally safe streets. The winter snow and ice hadn’t completely melted from the roads.
Buses were lined up along the front curb, waiting for the bell to signal the end of the day. He stopped behind the last one, hurrying up the sidewalk and into the main building.
Shandra stood up from a bench along the wall by the office. “I’m so glad you’re here.”
He pulled her into a hug. “I’m glad you’re safe. What happened?”
“I don’t know. Ms. Miller found Mr. Huntley behind the Art Quad building.” She shivered even though she had on her coat.
“Did you see him?”
Her eyes flashed over his shoulder before she answered. “Not since she found him. There’s a city policeman watching over him.”
“But you might know something of the cause?”
“I saw something earlier today, but I don’t believe...”
“That the person you saw with the man could have done it.” He knew Shandra too well. They’d worked together on nearly a dozen murders, and he could tell when she was covering for someone she felt was innocent.
“We’ll talk later.” He squeezed her arm.
“You can go through the commons and out that side door.” She pointed to a door along the left side of the room.
“You can go home. I’ll talk to you there.”
She shook her head. “I’ll wait.”
“Direct the M.E. and ambulance this way, then.”
Shandra nodded and sat back down.
Ryan strode across the large common area to a door that was propped open. He spotted the local cop and a man and woman standing with him.
“Stanley,” Ryan said, nodding to the Warner Police sergeant.
“Greer. I figured they’d send our detective.” Stanley nodded toward a man slumped against the back of the Art Quad building.
“Foster is on vacation. You get me.” Ryan pulled out his notebook. “And you are?” he asked the man and woman.
“Russ Pawner, Principal,” the visibly shaken man said.
“Gertrude Miller. Media Center instructor.” She had her arms wrapped around her body, hugging her winter coat tight. “I found him.”
Ryan nodded. “Mr. Pawner, you may go. Make sure no students come back here.” He turned his attention to Ms. Miller. “How did you find him?”
She pointed. “Just like that.”
“Why were you back here?”
“Oh! My rooms are in the back of the building. It’s faster for me to come out of the commons through that door and to this back door to get to my rooms.”
“Where were you coming from?” he asked.
“Coming from? The main building.” She blinked at him.
“What were you doing in the main building?”
“Oh! I’d run in to check my inbox. I’ve been expecting a notice about a contest my students are entering. I was hoping I could give them good news and had run into the office after class started.”
“Did you see anyone on your way to or from your room?” Ryan noted there were several muddy prints on the sidewalk.
“No. I didn’t see anyone.” She glanced at the victim and then back at him. “But he could have been there when I went into the building. I didn’t look behind me as I hurried into the office.”
He nodded. “You can go back to work, but please remain after school is let out in case I have any more questions.”
She nodded and started to walk to the back door.
“Please use the front entrance and don’t allow any students to come out this way when class lets out.”
“Of course.” She tiptoed through the mud and snow patches to the front of the building.
“Why don’t you wait for the M.E. and direct them back here instead of going through the main building,” he said to the man standing guard.
Stanley nodded and headed to the parking area.
Ryan pulled his camera out of his backpack and began snapping photos as he worked his way toward the victim. The man didn’t have a coat on, suggesting he had stepped out to either hurry to the office, like the woman who found him, or he was called out the back door for some reason. The cause of death appeared to be blunt force trauma to the head. There were strands of hair and blood on the wall at the point of contact. The large pool of red on the snow around his body indicated it was either a head wound, or someone had cut the carotid artery in his neck.
Pulling on gloves, Ryan checked the man’s neck. Nothing severed. The body collapsed in a way that didn’t indicate the victim had tried to stop a fall. He picked up the man’s hands. There weren’t any scrapes, ice, or dirt to indicate the victim put his hands out to keep from hitting the ground. From the way the body slumped sideways against the building, his feet could have gone out from under him and he fell. But there should have been scrapes on his hands or his shoes.
He wasn’t convinced this had been an accident. But they would know for sure after an autopsy. Ryan snapped photos up close and on the ground around the body. Sparkles on the sidewalk caught his attention. Glitter. He picked some up on the end of his gloved finger and put it into an evidence bag. Then he scraped hair and blood samples from the wall into an evidence jar.
Having presided over many homicides and accidental deaths, Ryan was leaning toward this being a homicide. It didn’t look to him as if the victim had fallen of his own accord.
Had the shove that caused him to hit his head been accidental, provoked, or intentional? This was the part of his job he relished. Finding the clues that pieced the homicide together.
He took more photos, pulled out the man’s wallet, and wrote down all the information.
Sirens became louder and died.
The sound of a gurney and voices grew near.