Something was up there. Something peach-color, like a bundle of cloth. But I didn’t think that’s what it was.
Glyn came back, relieved. “The door’s locked. So now what?”
Cree pointed. Glyn looked up. “Oh. My. God.”
I was glad I had my phone. I quick-dialed Rick Falco, my cop boyfriend.
He answered, thank goodness, even though he was on duty. His first words were the usual. “You okay?”
“No, I’m not. You know Kelsey Fritz? You know where she lives?”
He knew because last year there had been an uproar at the place next door. All that remained was a charred, skeletal trailer, but Rick had been there when it happened.
As briefly as I could, I told him about Kelsey. “She might be okay, and it might be nothing, but there’s something on that turret on top of the house. The door’s locked so we can’t get in and I’m worried about her state of mind.”
Rick didn’t need any further explanation.
“How handy,” Cree said as I put away my phone. “Your own personal nine-one-one.”
I hadn’t thought of 911. Maybe I should have tried that, but it would take a lot of explaining. I didn’t need that for Rick.
I kept my eyes on the bundle of peach-colored cloth. I’d have felt better if I saw it move. It might be nothing. I could be making an idiot of myself, but Rick had drilled into me that it’s better to be safe than sorry.
Cree watched it, too. “I didn’t know you could get up there.”
I never even thought about that. The turret was just there, part of the scenery. It had a low iron fence around the top. That, too, simply completed the picture. Until now.
I heard sirens. That was quick. I looked to see if it would make the peach thing move. It didn’t.
I walked out to Fremont just as they came around a bend in the road. Two police cruisers and a fire engine. I hadn’t mentioned any fire but they might need it for the ladders.
There were four officers, including Rick and his partner, Rosie. It was too cute, Rick and Rosie. She was cute, too, with short dark curly hair, two kids, and no husband. I couldn’t help wishing she had a husband, but I didn’t want to let Rick know it bothered me.
Rosie tackled the front steps, looking for a hidden key. Another officer tried the back. No key. That meant a ladder. I hoped it was high enough. While they set it up, Rosie tried to jimmy open the door. It must have had a deadbolt.
Rick gave me an encouraging nod. It was all he had time for. Glyn was in worse shape than I was. She had guilt added to her worry. So did I, but she didn’t know it. I’d never had much use for Kelsey, and even less when she made all that trouble for Ben. Even after I found out her neurosis was caused by a childhood trauma, I still didn’t like her.
I had to remember she was only four years old at the time it happened. It was no wonder she misinterpreted what she saw. She thought it was a man with no pants on, and a skeleton.
Part of that was true. It turned out to be her slimy neighbor in the now burned-out trailer, flashing her. It was Cree who discovered he had a death’s head tattooed on his butt. Some people are just sick.
What was taking so long? I couldn’t ask Rick. He was in a huddle with the fire chief.
Finally, they drove the ladder truck as close to the house as they could. At the same time, an ambulance arrived. I really hoped, if that were Kelsey up there, she would need its services and not those of the medical examiner.
The ladder went up. Cree huddled close to me. “Glad I don’t have to climb that thing. I wonder how she got up there.”
“Inside,” I said. “Could be a skinny little spiral staircase or a ladder and a trap door.”
“But why up there? It’s so public.”
“Maybe she didn’t think anybody’d look up. If they did, maybe they couldn’t get to her. We couldn’t.”
One of the firemen made sure the ladder was firmly braced, and started up. Cree covered her eyes.
“Do heights bother you?” I said.
“I don’t much like them,” she admitted.
He climbed fast. I wondered how often he’d had to use that ladder. He took it as though it was nothing. Might be part of their training.
He grasped the turret’s railing, swung a leg over, and then the other leg. He crouched down next to the peach-colored bundle.
I saw his hand go out and stay there for a moment. He called down to his buddies, “She’s breathing. Barely.”
My knees buckled in relief. Until that moment I hadn’t been sure the peach-colored lump actually was Kelsey.
What else would it be?
Glyn started crying. Cree asked, “Do you think Ben would want to know?”
“Later,” I said. “I just hope he got it off the Internet.”
When we’d left, he was still working on it. I had no idea how he felt about Kelsey these days. He never talked about her.
They were hoisting up some kind of wire basket. I’d seen pictures of those in helicopter rescues of injured people. If she was barely breathing, she must have been unconscious. They lifted it by ropes. A second fireman climbed the ladder to help.
He carried a bag of first aid supplies. They spent a long time getting her stabilized, whatever that consisted of. It seemed to take forever. Everything took forever.
When Rick came near me, I asked, “Can’t they pick the lock and take her out through the house? Wouldn’t that be easier?”
He regarded me with intense green eyes. They were greener than mine. “We don’t know what the situation is inside,” he said.
“Are we even sure it’s Kelsey?”
“I personally am not sure of anything. If someone needs help, does it matter who it is?”
I guessed it wouldn’t, but who else could it be up there? Not Kelsey’s mother, who I’d met a few times. She didn’t seem the emotional type. Kelsey’s sister Velda was too well-adjusted to go up and collapse. Besides, she had her own home farther down on Fremont.
Rick gave my hand a squeeze and disappeared into the crowd. By then it really was a crowd, neighbors from far and near, people driving by, and Velda herself, pushing through the mob. The police reinforcements tried to keep people back, but allowed Velda in.
“What is going on?” she asked. The police wouldn’t or couldn’t answer. She spotted Cree and me, whom she knew, and Glyn.
“It’s Kelsey,” I said.
“Up there?” Velda must have thought I was kidding.
They had Kelsey secured in the wire basket and were getting ready to lower her. I could see her curly platinum hair. I couldn’t see her face.
“It’s, uh—” I didn’t know how much Velda knew. “Did you hear anything about last night?”
“I knew she was going to a party. Did she get stood up?” Velda still couldn’t connect that with the turret.
“She went solo,” I said. “Was she supposed to go with somebody?”
“She said she was going alone. I thought that was very brave.”
“Glynis can tell you more.” I pulled Glyn over.
“She, um—” Glyn could barely look at Velda. I poked her, trying to remind her it was not her fault, even though it sort of was.
“She, um, took a drink,” Glyn said.
That was way too much for Velda. “Kelsey? Took a drink?”
Glyn explained, “I think she wanted fortification. She took another. And another. And then Evan Steffers got hold of her. The football guy.”
“Oh, no.”
Evan’s reputation must have preceded him. Or else it was an old, old story about football jocks and drunken girls.
“They went upstairs. And a couple of other guys.”
“Oh, no. My little sister.”
Glyn stared at the driveway’s white pebbles and nodded sadly. “I’m afraid it’s as bad as you think.”
“Oh, no, no, no.” Velda didn’t need to hear more.
I made my own contribution. “You know how some of those jocks can be. So full of themselves.”
Glyn added the final blow. “They took pictures. They posted them. But Maddie’s brother is taking them off. The Net, I mean. I don’t know if Kelsey knows about that.”
Nobody said it, but we all knew the damage had been done.
Kelsey was down now, at ground level. Velda rushed over to her. The paramedics gave her a minute before they transferred their patient to a gurney and into the ambulance. Velda tried to talk to her, but Kelsey was, as medical people say, unresponsive.
One of the firemen was still up there, placing things in plastic bags. If Kelsey had taken something, maybe that was it and maybe it had labels, so they’d know what she took.
Velda gave the paramedics as much medical information as she could. While they got it onto their laptop, she came over to Glyn and me. Her face was like granite.
“Who did you say that person was? The jock?”
“Evan Steffers,” we both said together.
“Don’t worry,” I added. “I’ll be glad to kill him for you. He tried to kill me once, so I owe him.”
“I want to help,” Velda told me.
“Good. We’ll do it together. But it has to be slow and painful and first we have to find out where he lives. I never did know that.”
I looked at Glyn. She looked at me. Months ago, she’d told me he was living in his parents’ basement and they didn’t even know it. They thought he was still in New Hampshire. Glyn never did find out the address of that basement. Anyway, if he was reinstated at Lakeside we could probably find him there, but we’d have to wait until the semester began.
Kidding aside, I knew Rick would take care of him. Posting pictures was not against the law, but rape was. Where the law left off, I was pretty sure Lakeside would pick it up. If, for their own stupid reasons, they tried to keep it quiet, I certainly wouldn’t. Without naming Kelsey, I would make sure the world knew what a maggot Evan was.
In fact, I would use it as a springboard in my campaign for a better attitude toward women. It would have to be a psychological thing, not legislated. You can’t legislate people’s thinking. And it mustn’t be confrontational. No battles. The idea should be to get their cooperation and make them actually want to see women as equals, not be forced into paying it mere lip service.
Velda rode in the ambulance. I figured she must have been calling her parents, if she knew where they were. Probably they would go to the hospital, but in case they came home, the police were still there, still investigating. I’d given Rick the background of what happened. Glyn was the only eyewitness among us and I knew she would rather jump off that turret herself than face Kelsey’s parents.
Before we left, I asked Rick, “What’s going to happen now? Are you going to arrest him?”
“As soon as we find him. But then we have to make a case. We’ll need her cooperation.”
Good luck with that, I thought, and said, “Oh curses, I shouldn’t have been so quick to get those pictures off.”
Rick agreed. “Off the Internet, you mean. It’d be nice if Ben thought to save them as evidence.”
“Ben’s pretty smart,” I said. “Even if I’m not.”
Rick knew he was. He called Ben at home. Usually when he called me, it was on my cell, but he remembered our home phone. By some miracle, Ben was there.
“On a flash drive?” I heard Rick say. “Very good. You’re a genius, Ben.”
I cringed. Don’t tell him that, he already knows it.
I left them chatting and got into my car. Glyn sat in back, ready to hide on the floor if Kelsey’s parents showed up. Cree got in front. “What are they going to do about Evan?”
“As I see it,” I said, “he’s committed a felony, but they have to be able to prove it. It’s going to be tough getting anything from Kelsey. Ben said he saved the pictures on a flash drive. That could help.”
“Ohmigod,” said Glyn. “The pictures.” She pounded her forehead.
“Will you stop with the guilt?” I told her. “Just do whatever you can.” I turned in at Overlook, not even asking if she wanted to go home.
“No,” she said. “I was thinking, what if it was me? How can Kelsey stand it?”
“Obviously she didn’t.”
“Ohmigod. She’s never going to want to wake up.” In a tiny voice, she asked, “Can I go home with you?”
I stopped the car. “I wish you hadn’t said that. I mean about her not wanting to wake up. Yes, sure you can go home with me. What’s wrong?”
“I don’t even want to see the Brandons’ house. And I need company.”
“Okay, then, duck. Because I need to see the Brandons. Do they know what happened? The parents are going to be in big trouble for serving alcohol to minors.”
“They didn’t serve it. It was Carl and Cindy. Mostly Carl, I guess. And he knows what happened. Most likely Cindy does, too.”
“It doesn’t matter who actually bought it and served it, the parents are ultimately responsible. I wonder how Carl managed to buy it.”
“You can always find someone with a fake ID.”
Glyn seemed to know all about it. I didn’t ask. I turned in at the Brandons’ driveway but didn’t see any sign of human beings. Or cars. They might have been at church. I turned off my engine and waited. It gave me plenty of time to ponder and put myself in Kelsey’s place.
Cree fidgeted, wanting to get to my house and see Ben. Glyn moaned and sighed and beat up on herself.
Exasperated, I finally said, “Okay, so you encouraged her to take a drink. You were only trying to help. How could you know she wouldn’t stop?”
“I should have known. It can happen.”
“Okay, you’re five percent guilty.”
“Fifty percent. And the other fifty because I should have stopped them when they were going upstairs. I mean—what else would they be going for? She was too out of it to say no.”
“And probably too innocent,” I said.
“All the more reason.”
Cree tried to change the subject. “What did Ben say when you told him?”
Hadn’t we already discussed that? Or was it Rhoda I talked to?
“He said, ‘Why are girls so stupid?’ But please don’t get me started on that. Girls may be stupid but guys don’t have to take advantage. That’s their fault. They should damn well learn to control their hormones. That goes for all men, all over the world. There are cultures where women have to cover their hair, even their faces, because the sight of it gets men aroused. Why should it all be up to the women? Are men such babies they can’t keep a grip on their dicks?”
Cree said, “You really are wound up.”
“Damn straight. I’m starting a campaign and you guys can be charter members, if you want.”
Glyn perked up a little. “Campaign for what? What’s it about?”
“Education. Teaching men to have some respect. Teaching them we’re not just put here as sex toys.”
Cree looked thoughtful. “Kelsey can be our poster girl.”
“I wouldn’t do that to her,” I said. “We’ll have a composite poster girl. She’s not the first person this happened to.”
“Not hardly,” Glyn agreed.
A car came into the driveway. That was a relief. I’d pictured us sitting there for the next two hours, if not two weeks. It was the whole Brandon family. I got out and greeted the parents, whom I’d met at Lakeside functions, just as I’d met Kelsey’s parents.
“Party’s over. Didn’t you know?” said Mr. Brandon. Always a joker.
“Uh—” How to begin? My “uh” stopped the parents on their way to the front door.
“About that,” I said, trying to think how to break it gently. “I wasn’t here, but I understand there were problems.”
“Problems?” Mrs. Brandon’s eyebrows went up.
All except Carl moved in closer. Then he did, too. He was a funny guy, with straight, reddish-blond hair. Now his face was serious. I supposed mine was, too.
My two companions got out of the car. I knew it took a lot of courage for Glyn to face anyone. The Brandons knew her, of course. She lived next door. I introduced Cree and said we’d just come from Kelsey’s house.
Carl said, “I heard she got smashed. Is she okay?”
He knew she got more than smashed. I said, “Uh—she’s alive.” Then I laid it on. “At least she was a little while ago. When the ambulance took her away.”
There was a gasp all around. Mrs. Brandon said, “What happened?”
It seemed to me parents shouldn’t be so innocent. Certainly not more innocent than their kids. Even if the kids try hard to keep them that way. How to break it to them?
“Well,” I began, “as your son just said, Kelsey got smashed.”
She turned to her son. “How did that happen?” At least she knew you had to get smashed on something. It was becoming clear the parents hadn’t been home.
Carl denied supplying any liquor. Cindy backed him up. If it was there, other kids had brought it. But the twins must have known it was coming. They’d bought other supplies. The mixers and things.
My parents would have been home, even though they trusted Ben and me. Famous last words. The truth is, you never know what your kids’ friends are going to pull.
I gave them the story in brief, making sure I named names.
Cindy’s eyes got wider and wider. Carl stared down at his sneakers. Whatever church they went to must have been casual. Both twins had on jeans.
“Oh my Lord of Lords!” Mrs. Brandon clutched at her chest. Mr. Brandon caught her before she could fall.
I felt no remorse, and went on, “That’s not the worst of it. Those creeps took pictures and put them on the Internet. I don’t know if Kelsey knew that part of it. Maybe being gang raped was enough. Anyway, this morning it looked as if she tried to kill herself. We went to see how she was doing and she was on top of that turret thing they have.”
“She was going to jump?” Cindy gasped.
“No, I think she took poison. She must have thought it would be a while before anyone looked up there. Nobody else was home, so we called the police and they came with a ladder truck. They got her down. They said she was still breathing and they took her to the hospital.”
“Oh, that poor girl,” cried Mrs. Brandon.
Cindy turned away, sickened. “Guys can be such shit.”
Another charter member.
“Anyway,” I said, getting down to the point of our visit, “the police had to know everything, including where all this took place. I’m afraid they might have some questions about alcohol being served to minors. We thought we’d better let you know.”
“Thanks for the warning,” Mr. Brandon said dully.
“Anyway, regardless . . .” I got my car door open, “whatever else, most of the blame has to be on Evan Steffers.”
“And company,” added Glyn. It was the first time she’d spoken.
“He really will be prosecuted,” I assured them all, and got into my shabby Chevy. “If they can find him.”
I backed out of the driveway, leaving a stunned family of four. I wouldn’t have wanted to be any of them. And certainly not Kelsey.