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Shandra went to Warner High an hour before school started instead of later morning when her class began. She went straight to Mr. Pawner’s office. The man looked as if he hadn’t gone home. He still wore yesterday’s clothes and his beard was unshaven.
She knocked on the door.
“Ms. Higheagle, you’re early.” He sank back against his chair.
“I wondered if I could visit with the first period drama class this morning?”
“I have already asked Ms. Tait to talk with the class in the cafeteria. If she doesn’t mind you sitting in, I’ll not stop it.” He scrubbed his hands over his face and asked, “Has Detective Greer discovered the cause of death?”
“He has.” She wasn’t sure if Ryan wanted her to keep it quiet or not. “He should be here shortly.” He’d wanted to run to the Sheriff’s Office before coming to the school and going through Mr. Huntley’s room. She only knew he wanted to find a camera.
The man nodded and dropped his gaze to the letter sitting on his desk.
Shandra decided there was nothing more to say to him. She wandered out of the office, passing Rachel’s empty desk. What time did the secretary usually come in? A glance at the clock showed the buses and students would be arriving soon. Leaving the office area, she turned and headed into the open multi-purpose room.
Nancy entered the cafeteria through the side door. Her arms were crossed over several sheets of paper and her stride said she was on a mission.
Shandra made a straight line for the woman. “Nancy? Nancy!”
The counselor stopped and faced her. “Shandra, what are you doing here so early?”
“I wanted to sit in on the drama class this morning.”
The woman studied her. “I thought you were a potter. Are you some kind of undercover cop or something?”
“No. Detective Greer is my fiancé, and he knows I’ve dealt with sexual abuse in the past and might be of some help, insight for the women and girls of this school.” Shandra fell into step with the woman as she headed down the hall to her office.
“I plan on talking to the students first about losing a teacher so violently, then let the boys go and visit with the girls. You’re welcome to sit in on both sessions.” Nancy pushed her door open and walked in. The desk was cleared of all the files that had been stacked there the day before.
“Did Mr. Huntley only teach two classes? I saw classes in his room every time I was here.” Shandra wondered at the efficiency of a teacher only teaching two classes a day.
“First period of the day was intro to drawing, second was home room, then an advanced drawing, and a drama class.” Nancy sat down at her desk. “The students in all three classes were barely thirty in number. We decided to do a school wide assembly on grief and then a smaller assembly with just the female students from his classes.”
“Do you think it is wise to single out the female students from his classes?” Shandra studied the woman.
“I would have preferred talking to them in their regular classes. I’m not sure why Mr. Pawner suggested we do it this way.” Nancy picked up a piece of paper.
Shandra knew Mr. Huntley’s classroom would be closed until Ryan could discern if there was any evidence in the room.
“Why don’t you ask everyone from Mr. Huntley’s classes to stay in the cafeteria and you can speak to all of them at once? It would keep the girls from feeling singled out and then let the boys go and get into the subject of harassment.” Shandra like the idea of seeing all the students first thing and judge their reactions. Then watch the boys from Mr. Huntley’s classes and then the girls.
“I’ll suggest that to Mr. Pawner.” Her brow wrinkled. “He didn’t look very well this morning. I called his wife to let her know I think he spent the night here.”
“Does he do that often?” No wonder the man had looked so horrible.
“Never, that I know of. His family is everything to him. I suppose he couldn’t face his wife and daughter knowing he’d let that predator remain teaching here.”
The lack of compassion in Nancy’s tone made Shandra wonder if the woman was the best person to counsel the students. “How old is his daughter?”
“Callie is a freshman. She goes to the Christian high school.” Nancy’s gaze landed on her. “Callie is a numbers whiz, she’s never set foot in this school. If she had, maybe Roger would have been dealt with the correct way.”
Shandra studied the petite woman across the desk from her. She was full of rage at the man who had stalked the school halls and the man who had allowed it. “Maybe a counselor from another school should be pulled in for the talk this morning.”
“Do you think I can’t do my job?” Nancy asked.
“No. However, you are not going to be able to hide your outrage at what was allowed to happen. I don’t think those who were violated will realize your anger is at Mr. Huntley and not them.” She nodded to the wall separating Nancy’s room from the other Special Education counselor. “Maybe Kathy should run the assembly.”
“She hasn’t had the experience I have with grief counseling. It’s me or Mr. Franklin and he isn’t trained in psychology, he’s a guidance counselor.” Nancy picked up a folder as the first morning bell sounded. “Are you coming to the assembly?”
Shandra didn’t like watching train wrecks, but she felt she needed to be at the assembly. “I’m coming.”
~*~
Ryan pulled into the Warner High School parking lot and walked straight to the Art Quad. He’d just left the sheriff’s department where he’d picked up the list of names of the others in the photos he’d found. All but the naked back photo. Without a face, it was nearly impossible to discover who that photo could be. After visiting the three families last night, he knew three of the names on the list. Vicky Shaw, Lana Lawrence, and Tula Paulson.
The Art Quad was quiet as he entered. His cowboy boots rang out on the tile floor. Passing the rooms, he noted they all had the lights off. The back door still had the crime scene tape as did the deceased’s art room. He tried the door and found it locked.
Ryan pulled out his cell phone and dialed the principal. All he heard was a recording about how the secretary was out of the office, please leave a message.
He retraced his steps to the front of the school and entered the front doors. The multipurpose room was filled with students. Teachers stood along the wall with the door leading to the Art Quad. He spotted Shandra first. She stood near the front of the students, her gaze intent on the audience. Ms. Tait was talking about grief.
Mr. Shepard was the closest adult to Ryan. He walked over to the man.
The custodian grunted a hello.
“Mr. Shepard, do you have keys to Mr. Huntley’s room?” Ryan asked, keeping his gaze on Shandra. What would she learn and why hadn’t she told him she would be here this early?
“I do. I suppose you’d like to take a peek in there?” The man started walking to the front of the building, not waiting for an answer.
Ryan fell into step beside him. They left the main building, walked along the wet sidewalk, and into the art building. “Have you thought of anyone else who might have wanted to harm Mr. Huntley?”
The custodian stopped at the art room door and stared at him. “I’d say just about every female in this school who came in contact with the man and half of their fathers or boyfriends.”
Ryan removed one side of the crime scene tape stretched across the door.
Mr. Shepard slipped the key into the lock, twisted, and the door opened. “What do you think you’ll find here?” The man stood aside, allowing Ryan to enter the room and flick on the lights.
“I don’t know, but I’ll know it when I see it.”
Shepard laughed. “That’s the same mumbo jumbo the detectives on TV say.”
“Thanks for letting me in. When you close the door, would you replace the crime scene tape, please?” Ryan noted the man’s surprise, but he walked out and closed the door.
He moved to the teacher’s desk and pulled out each drawer, searching for a camera, film, or SD cards. There wasn’t even a photo in the desk. He moved to the set of file cabinets behind the desk. One drawer contained plays, another books on various drawing methods, the last cabinet had a few folders in the front and a small fanny pack in the back of the drawer.
Ryan took a picture of the pack before taking it out of the drawer. Inside, he found a small, expensive, digital camera with a power zoom lens. He photographed the camera nestled in the pack and then pushed the on button to see what was still on the camera. More dance photos of Ms. Trainor, a provocative photo of Ms. Miller, and the young woman who had been identified as Jennifer Sabo, the kitchen worker. She was smiling at the camera, but the look in her eye was that of someone being forced to smile.
He placed the camera and fanny pack in evidence bags and shoved them into his forensics backpack. He continued around the room, noting the supplies available for the students. There were two large containers of glitter, but not a speck of glitter anywhere outside the containers. He took a photo and placed a sample of each container into evidence bags.
Satisfied he wouldn’t find anything else in the room, he wandered out into the hall and removed the crime scene tape. Shandra had told him, a bit reluctantly, where she’d witnessed Boyd slamming the teacher up against the wall. There were posters on the wall for the upcoming play, dance recital, and basketball schedule. Not a flake of glitter in sight.
He returned to the art room. The play was scheduled for two weeks. Where were the set decorations?
All that he saw in the room were art supplies and drawings that were half finished. He’d need to speak with either Shepard or one of the other staff members. Ryan exited the room and stopped short when a tall woman with a colorful, long, flowing skirt and peasant blouse stood not ten feet from the door with her hands on her hips.
“What are you doing skulking around in the Art Quad?” the woman asked.
From conversations with Shandra, he had a good idea he knew the woman. “Ms. Tierney, I’m Detective Ryan Greer. I’m here to investigate the death of Roger Huntley.”
“How is it you know me, but I have not had the pleasure of meeting you?” She cocked her head to one side, and with her narrow set eyes and pointed nose, she reminded him of a bird.
“My fiancée, Shandra Higheagle, is volunteering at the school in the pottery class. She has told me what a wonderful program you run here.” He smiled and noted his flattery had worked.
“I’m glad an artist of her caliber was interested in sharing her talents. Did you find anything interesting in Mr. Huntley’s room?”
“Not really. I’m curious though. The poster over there says there will be a play in two weeks, but I didn’t see any evidence of stage props being made.” He’d wandered over to the wall with all the posters. Ms. Tierney followed.
“The stage props are made in this back room and stored until they do dress rehearsals.” The woman walked over to a door, not far from the back door through which the victim met his death, and opened it. She flicked on a light and the room erupted with color and various shapes and sizes of cardboard and colored scenes.
He noted not far from the door were long wooden poles with long strips of paper covered in glitter. “What are these?”
“The play is ‘We The People’, those are large sparklers for the finale.” Ms. Tierney walked toward them.
“Stop. Thank you for showing me this room. I need to check it for evidence.” He escorted the woman out of the room and began taking photos and placing all the “sparklers” by the door to be transported to forensics.