Plain Cover-Up Page 12

  “When I was in college, Roger attacked me.”

  “Roger attacked you?” The principal repeated in an uncertain tone. “He’s such a nice young man. Respected in our community. His father is the former mayor.”

  Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed Dylan leaning toward her as if he wanted to say something to her, but she kept her focus on the principal. Christina couldn’t lose her nerve now.

  “He’s a real peach,” Christina said with an edge to her tone.

  “Do you have proof? I mean, I can’t fire him on your say-so.”

  Christina dragged her hand through her hair. “I’m afraid it would be my word against his. But I wouldn’t come here with the accusation unless my concerns were real.” She tapped her fingers on the edge of the desk, trying to think of a more direct solution. “Perhaps all his paperwork is not complete according to NYS. Maybe you could postpone his appointment. Tell him his paperwork’s not in order. It could buy us—well, the sheriff’s department—time to look into his background.”

  Principal Acer pivoted in her chair. Her porcelain skin had gone even whiter. She stared out the window as if deep in thought. When the principal didn’t say anything, Christina added, “I’m worried about the girls...” Niggling doubt immediately wormed its way into her brain. He had undoubtedly attacked her, but what else was he guilty of?

  Christina sat back in her chair and crossed her arms tightly around her. “Roger Everett attacked me. That I know for sure.” Christina’s voice got very low and the walls in the room swayed. She suddenly got very hot.

  “Christina felt she needed to tell you about her past with Roger Everett to protect the young women on the softball team,” Dylan spoke up. “In good conscience, she couldn’t keep her mouth closed.”

  Not anymore.

  Principal Acer turned her attention to him. “Has this become an FBI matter?” A deep line marred her forehead. “Is there an official investigation?”

  “I’m on leave from the FBI. I’m here as a personal friend of Christina’s.”

  Christina turned to look at him. The regret in his tone was unmistakable. “Dylan is an old friend.” She gave him a half smile. “My brother, Nick, is aware of my concerns. The sheriff’s department is watching Roger closely. But, please, keep that to yourself.”

  Principal Acer shifted in her seat to face them squarely. “If I remember correctly, your brother and Roger were good friends.”

  “Yes, yes they are.”

  Principal Acer twisted her lips. “That must be hard.”

  “Yes, and I fear my brother’s friendship with Roger made me keep my mouth shut for far too many years. Who knows how many other women he attacked?”

  Principal Acer wrapped her hands around the arms of her oversized black chair. “Tell you what. I’ll contact Coach Everett and tell him he needs to have an assistant coach with him at all times until he’s completed all his workshops and has been fingerprinted. I’ll word it such that it’s all bureaucratic stuff.” The corners of her mouth turned down. “The school board will also have to be notified that he can’t coach alone. Not until his paperwork is done.”

  “The school board won’t like it,” Christina warned.

  Principal Acer folded her hands and looked at Christina pointedly. “I imagine they won’t. Coach Everett might not like having someone looking over his shoulder, either. The man is a great athlete, but he can be a hothead.”

  Fingers of unease squeezed at her throat. “Once Roger knows I reported him, he’s not going to be happy.”

  “Our students’ safety is more important than a man’s pride. If Coach Everett has nothing to hide, he’ll understand we have to follow protocol.” Principal Acer shook the mouse and her computer screen came to life. She clicked a few buttons. “I’ll assign someone to work with him today.”

  Principal Acer squinted at the computer screen for a moment before turning to glance out the window. The first wet drops of rain hit the window panes. “Well, looks like we might have dodged a bullet today. Practice will be cancelled on account of the rain. It will give me time to make a few phone calls, find a temporary volunteer to help coach the team, preferably a member of our staff who already has their information on file.”

  “Thank you,” Christina said, feeling a sense of relief.

  “Thank you for coming forward. I can see that it wasn’t easy.” Principal Acer smiled, but sadness lit her eyes.

  Lately, nothing had been easy.

  * * *

  Christina had to take large steps to keep up with Dylan as they strode down the long, mostly empty corridors of the very school she attended. The authoritative voices of teachers finishing up their lessons for the day floated out of various classroom doors as they passed. The high school year ran a good month longer than the university’s calendar year.

  The more she thought of the principal’s temporary fix, the more she didn’t like it. Roger was sneaky. He could find a way to be alone with one of the girls.

  “How can we leave it like that?” Christina asked, her voice hushed. “Roger’s going to hurt one of those girls. I can feel it in my bones.”

  Dylan took her hand and pulled her toward the main doors. Through the windows she could see that a line of yellow buses had formed, their black numbers hard to read in the driving rain. Dylan turned to face her, placing both his hands on her shoulders. “I understand how important this is to you. But the principal is in a difficult situation. She can’t fire Roger on our say-so. There needs to be due process. I think we accomplished our goal of warning her. She’ll be watching him. An assistant coach will be watching him. Usually that’s enough to give a guy like Roger pause. He’s not dumb.”

  “Some comfort to the girl he hurts.” Christina shifted her stance and glanced behind Dylan through the window to the gloomy weather. Good, she thought, it suited her mood.

  “The school board didn’t even wait for Roger to complete all the requirements. They could probably get in trouble for that,” Christina whispered. “Can’t we use that?” Her mind was swirling. They had to do something. Especially after having not done anything for far too long. A familiar niggling of guilt pinged her insides. She forced it aside, knowing in her heart—even if not always in her head—that she had kept quiet for reasons that had made sense at the time.

  She had been the victim.

  Dylan angled his head. “Do you really think that’s the best way to proceed? To put the principal on the defensive? Perhaps put her job in jeopardy?”

  Christina bowed her head and sighed heavily. “I feel helpless.” Much like she had felt after Roger had viciously attacked her and she didn’t know where to turn.

  An unintended consequence of Roger’s actions had been that Christina focused with laser-like intensity on school and now her career. After getting her heart broken by Dylan and her spirit crushed by Roger, she didn’t trust herself beyond the realm in which she excelled, one she could control.

  “Maybe I should have Nick approach Roger. If he realizes the number of people watching him, maybe he’ll stay honest. Maybe.” She let out a long breath.

  “I’ll help you. I promise.” Dylan offered her a comforting smile. His smooth voice warmed her soul. How could this be the same man who so callously dumped her?

  A lifetime ago. Wasn’t it long past time that she forgave him?

  A crash of thunder made her jump. Dylan laughed and dropped his hands from her shoulders.

  Christina shook her head. “Man, I’m jumpy.”

  Dylan glanced behind him. “That lightning strike was close.” The wind whipped sideways and raindrops whooshed against the window. “Looks like we’re going to get wet.”

  “Remember, I have my umbrella.”

  He laughed. Her umbrella was unlikely to keep anyone totally dry in this monsoon.

 
The sound of her phone ringing in her purse caught her attention over the raging storm outside. Her mind immediately went to the clinic. “I better take this call.”

  Dylan nodded as he pushed open the door and held his hand to the storm. “We’re not going anywhere, anyway.”

  Christina smiled and swiped across the face of the phone, accepting the call. She didn’t recognize the number. “Hello?”

  Sobbing sounded over the line.

  “Hello?” Christina repeated.

  “It’s me, Naomi.”

  Christina’s heart sank. “What’s wrong?”

  “I can’t take it anymore. I need to know.”

  The ticking of the clock slowed as she waited for her Amish friend to continue.

  “I need to figure out my future.” Naomi’s voice grew very soft. “Can I come into the clinic for one of those tests?” A pregnancy test.

  “Of course. Of course.” Christina turned her back to Dylan who didn’t seem to be listening anyway. “When do you want to come in?”

  “As soon as possible. Are you at the clinic now? Cheryl can drive me over.”

  “No, I’m at the school.”

  If Naomi was surprised Christina was at the school, she didn’t let on.

  “My friend Cheryl told me we can get a test at the store, but I’d feel better...”

  “Of course.” The home pregnancy tests were highly accurate. However, if Naomi was pregnant, she’d need prenatal care. Christina didn’t want to dismiss her in exchange for a test she could buy at the local pharmacy for under ten dollars.

  Christina said a silent prayer that the young Amish woman would trust Christina even as the potential for Naomi’s world imploding loomed heavy, like the ominous dark clouds.

  Christina glanced over at Dylan. “I can be at the clinic in ten minutes. Does that work?”

  Dylan silently gestured his understanding. He leaned toward the umbrella in Christina’s hand. “I’ll pull up the car on the other side of the buses,” he mouthed. “Wait here.”

  Just as he said that, the school bell rang its shrill bring, a sound that had probably remained constant since the founders laid the school cornerstone.

  “Hold on.” Christina spoke into the phone and pressed against the wall as the students filled the halls, like popped popcorn escaping a hot kettle.

  “I’m going,” Dylan hollered over the cacophony of students chattering, locker doors slamming and sneakers skidding across the marble floor.

  Christina covered one ear so she could hear Naomi and was only peripherally aware of Dylan pushing on the solid school doors and opening her colorful floral umbrella. It had been a gift from her mother and Christina was relieved it hadn’t been destroyed when Ben Reist nearly flattened her during the near miss in the clinic parking lot.

  “Naomi,” Christina said into the phone, “I’ll be at the clinic in ten minutes. I’ll help you however I can.”

  Naomi hiccupped over the line. “Okay. Denki.”

  Christina paused long enough to be sure her friend had hung up. The bus loop in front of the school was crowded with vehicles. From her vantage point inside the doors at the top of a long flight of stairs, she saw her floral umbrella dodging between the students, some with umbrellas, others with their hoods pulled up and even more ignoring the rain as they got soaked.

  Feeling a little silly for making Dylan run out to the car—the rain had let up a bit—Christina hustled down the stairs, stepping carefully so as not to tumble down the slick pavement, weaving between the students eager to get to the bus or their cars and get home. She missed that feeling of excitement, knowing a weekend was coming up. How long had it been since she relaxed?

  A bolt of lightning split the black clouds and Christina flinched. The darkness made it seem much later than three o’clock in the afternoon. She glanced toward the crowded bus loop now teeming with students and a half dozen buses. She had lost sight of the umbrella.

  Suddenly a loud scream rose above the chatter of high school students. Her heart thundered in her chest and panic made her blood run cold. Her eyes darted around. The crowd was filled with young men in baseball caps and hoodies and young women in boots and leggings. A smattering of umbrellas dotted the scene.

  Where was Dylan?

  Urgency had her barreling down the stairs. She had to grab the railing when she lost her footing on the slick stairs, just as she feared. She nearly yanked her arm out of its socket. She groaned and righted herself.

  A crowd of students pushed and shoved between two buses. Instinctively, Christina followed the commotion. She finally broke through the crowd and found Dylan lying on the pavement, eyes closed, her floral umbrella tumbling across the parking lot on a gust of wind.

  Feeling nauseous, she dropped to her knees at his side. “Dylan...what happened?” She glanced around but didn’t see anything out of the ordinary. She touched his neck and relief thrummed through her in time with his steady pulse. She turned around and stared at the students. A few had the nerve to take photos with their smartphones.

  “Call the police. We need an ambulance.” Her voice was laced with anger and fear.

  Leaning over Dylan, she pulled her arms out of her jacket and placed it over him to keep him warm.

  Dear Lord, please let Dylan be okay.

  Pointing at the closest student, she said, “Did you dial 9-1-1?”

  The girl nodded, her eyes wide with fear.

  “Thank you.” She checked his pulse again. Steady. She swallowed hard and held out her arm. “Move back. Give him some room.”

  NINE

  The last thing Dylan remembered was waving to Christina, then checking around the bus for traffic. Finding the road clear, he’d tilted his umbrella to block the wind and rain and started jogging toward the car parked in the lot beyond the bus loop. Then he’d heard an engine race, tires squeal. He lifted his umbrella and he saw the headlights of a car in the rain gunning for him.

  Instinctively Dylan dived and that’s all she wrote.

  Next thing he knew, he was waking up looking into Christina’s warm eyes. “Shhh...” she said when he tried to talk. “The paramedics are here. They’ll take you to the hospital. I’ll follow behind. My brother’s here, too.”

  “How long was I out?” Dylan groaned.

  “Long enough for help to arrive.” Christina stepped back and allowed the paramedic to put his kit down and kneel next to Dylan. “His pulse is steady, but he lost consciousness.”

  “I’m okay.” Dylan shook his head. Big mistake. Pain ripped through his skull.

  Despite Christina’s insistence that he stay still, he pushed to a seated position and handed her the jacket she had draped over him. The rain soaked through his jeans. He dragged a hand through his wet hair. “Did you see anything?”

  “You need to let this paramedic do his job,” Christina said.

  “I need to know what’s going on.”

  Christina turned to the paramedic, biting back her frustration. “Give me a minute, okay?”

  The young man nodded and took a step back.

  Christina crouched down next to Dylan. “What happened?”

  “I’m not sure. I heard tires squealing. I saw headlights in the rain.” Dylan squinted. “I couldn’t tell you the make or model.” His voice was gruff.

  “I heard the commotion. The buses were in the way.” Christina pivoted on the wet pavement, looking around. “Nick’s already interviewing the students. The staff.”

  “Did you tell him why we were here?” Dylan cleared his throat, trying not to sound as disoriented as he felt.

  “Yeah, I had to. Otherwise he’d be wondering. I think he’s upset we went around him, but I couldn’t risk Roger hurting one of the girls on the softball team.”

  “Of course.”

>   A young girl ran over and handed Christina the umbrella. Christina smiled up at her, grateful for the thoughtful gesture.

  Principal Acer moved through the crowd, directing the last few kids to board their respective buses. “Time to get moving,” she hollered and gently nudged a young man who appeared to be videotaping the scene. “Your parents will be calling the school wondering why your bus is late.” Her monotone voice suggested she had made this plea before, albeit under different circumstances.

  Dylan started to get to his feet when Christina held out her hand. “No, don’t get up. You probably have a concussion. The paramedics will take you to the hospital for more tests.”

  Dylan stumbled to his feet and Christina mumbled something about him not following directions. She draped his arm around her waist to steady him, not a small feat for her tiny frame. But he wasn’t about to argue. He liked the way she smelled, of fresh rain and an undercurrent of something...cucumbers. He smiled at that, wondering if he had hit his head harder than he thought.

  The bus engines revved and Christina guided Dylan farther away as the buses rumbled out of the parking lot.

  “They’ll have an earful for their parents tonight.” He rubbed his head. “I wonder if any of them saw anything?”

  “Let Nick worry about that.”

  Dylan groaned at the paramedic who took him by the elbow. “I’m not going to the hospital.”

  “You need to.” Christina took his other arm and guided him to the back of the ambulance.

  “You’re a doctor.” Dylan playfully rested his cheek on the top of her head. “You can take care of me.”

  “They’ll need to run tests. See if anything is broken. I don’t have those facilities at the clinic.”

  “Nothing is broken. I’ve broken bones. I know broken bones. Nothing’s broken.”

  Christina shot him a skeptical look and helped him sit on the edge of the ambulance. She did a few tests on him to see if he was showing signs of a concussion and based on her intense expression he probably did have one. No surprise to him, since his head was killing him.