Chapter Twenty-Four

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

WHEN THE CALL comes, Brad almost jumps out of his skin. He takes a moment to get his breathing under control before he answers. He knows from the call display that it's not Kelly. Kelly hasn't had the decency to let him know how it went at the police station. No, it's a detective, and they want to talk to him. Brad tries to sound calm. They have to know he's expecting this.

When he arrives at the station, there are reporters hanging around outside. Some snap his picture, and he doesn't like it. They want to know who he is. He decides to tell them – calmly – that he was Diana's teacher and coach and that they will no doubt be interviewing all her teachers. That makes them lose interest quickly. They go back to loafing around the steps as he makes his way inside.

Once he is sitting in the interview room and is facing the two detectives, he finds it harder to seem relaxed. He shouldn't have smoked all those cigarettes, drunk so much coffee. His mouth is suddenly dry and sour tasting, and he would like some water, but he is afraid his hand will shake as he drinks it, so he doesn't ask, and they don't offer.

‘We've heard some allegations about you from Principal Kelly this morning,' Stone begins.

‘What did he say?' Brad asks, keeping his voice neutral.

But the detective ignores his question. ‘How long have you been teaching at Fairhill High School?'

‘A little over a year. I started last September. I teach physical education, and I coach sports teams.'

‘You coached Diana, we understand.'

‘Yes, she was in one of my gym classes last year and again this year. She was a talented athlete, especially good at running cross-country. She was the best runner on the team.' He's feeling a bit better now that he's talking. ‘It's such a tragic loss. She had so much potential.'

‘But she complained about you.'

Brad eyes the detective, who is waiting for him to say something. ‘She did,' he admits at last. ‘She blew some things out of proportion. I put it down to teenage-girl dramatics.' He thinks he manages to sound not too defensive, perhaps even disappointed in one of his students. ‘I was surprised at how she interpreted some things, but even so, I apologized. That was the end of it.'

‘What did you apologize for, exactly?' the detective asks.

Now he feels uncomfortable. ‘I said I was sorry if she misinterpreted my actions.'

‘And what were your actions?'

He remembers the anger he felt at Diana. He must not let it show. He says mildly, ‘She didn't like it that I patted her on the back if she ran a good race. Sometimes I rested a hand on her shoulder and leaned in closer when I was giving her a pep talk. Things like that.' He shifts in his chair. ‘I had no idea it bothered her until she complained to Principal Kelly.' Detective Stone regards him steadily, as if waiting for more. Brad asks, ‘Did you ever play any sports?' Neither detective responds. ‘I grew up playing sports. We were always slapping each other on the back to say well done. I just wasn't thinking. It was an honest mistake. But after that – no more camaraderie. I keep my distance. I've learned my lesson.'

‘You never touched her in any sexual way?' Stone asks.

‘Absolutely not.'

‘She also said you looked at her in a way that made her uncomfortable.'

He allows himself to express some indignation. ‘That was entirely in her imagination. I was her teacher, her coach. I have to make sure they do things properly or they could injure themselves. I didn't look at her any more than any of my other students.'

‘Did you ever see Diana outside of class or the coaching environment?' Detective Stone asks.

‘No.'

‘Do you have any idea if anyone was bothering her?'

He shakes his head. ‘No. I didn't know about anything like that.'

‘One more thing,' the detective says. ‘Can you tell us where you were on Thursday night, from eleven o'clock on?'

‘I was at home, in bed.'

‘Alone?'

‘Yes.'

‘Okay, thank you. That will be all, for now.' Detective Stone rises and hands him a card. ‘If you think of anything useful, please get in touch.'

Brad takes the card. ‘I will.'

As he leaves the police station, his relief is immense.

Joe Prior parks his truck in the parking lot of the 7-Eleven. He's driven a little over an hour to get here. He knows Josie will be here today – she always works Saturdays. Joe has been watching her for a while. He likes to spread them out. Josie here in Littleton, which is over the state line in New Hampshire. Kayla in Magog, in the Eastern Townships of Quebec. He does a lot of driving. But that's okay, he likes driving his truck, uses the time to think, to go over his fantasies in his mind.

He gets out of the truck and walks casually into the store. He knows where the cameras are and stays out of view as best he can. He must be extra careful now. He's got a baseball cap pulled low, and the collar of his jacket pulled up. He lingers in the back corner looking at snack foods as someone finishes a purchase up at the front. He watches Josie furtively, enjoying the curve of her cheek, the fall of her light brown hair, the shape of her breasts beneath her T-shirt.

The customer passes him on her way out the door and the bell tinkles as she leaves. Joe continues to survey items as he slowly walks down the aisle. He's not going to buy anything; he's just looking.

The bell on the door tinkles again. A man has come in with his little boy. The shrill chatter of the child carries across the store. Joe hates children.

It ruins it for him, and he walks out, the child's irritating patter following Joe until the door closes behind him.