The other cops laughed. “You let that rookie get over on you like that?” one of them asked Morley.
But before Morley could respond, the door flew open, their chief walked in, and the entire squad room plunged into the sounds of computers typing and papers shuffling and quiet, efficient, busy work.
“Hello, Chief,” said Morley as Boone walked past his desk first.
“I’m still waiting to get Dalbert in one of those cells,” Boone shot back. “Where is he?”
That was what Morley got for speaking, the other cops appeared to be thinking. But Morley only nodded. “We’re still looking for him, Chief. It’s only the second day. We’ll find him.”
“You’d better,” Boone said.
“Good morning, Chief,” said Dontay as Boone continued walking and walked by his desk.
Boone glanced at Dontay. He was the youngest cop on his force, and the only African-American. “What’s so good about it?” he asked him.
Dontay had not expected that response. He gave him a normal greeting. It wasn’t as if he told the chief to go play with himself or something equally rude. All he said was good morning for crying out loud.
But Dontay was always singled out by the chief that way. Most would say it was because of his race, especially since Chief Ryan was never considered to be a friend of the Negro, as some black residents loved to joke. But Dontay didn’t think like that. The reason didn’t matter to him. He was determined to not let that reason define him. “I’m sure there’s a lot that’s good about it,” he shot back, “but I can’t think of one single thing right now.”
Morley could see a slight lift of the chief’s lip as he continued to walk by. Boone liked Dontay, although most of the other cops wouldn’t believe it. But Morley had been working for Boone the longest. He knew him.
He also knew that the chief would ignore all the other good mornings and how you doing greetings, would enter his office without looking back, and would slam the door behind him. And Boone did just as Morley expected him to do.
There was a collective sigh of relief in the whole of the squad room when that door slammed shut.
And then the phone rang. Dontay, as the grunt on the force, was tasked with answering all calls that the switchboard operator sent back to the squad room. “Hemingway PD. Officer Culpepper at your service. How may I help you?”
There was a look of surprise on Dontay’s youthful, handsome face. “At Saint Christopher’s?” he asked as if there had to be some mistake. “Are you sure?”
Morley looked at him, as did the other cops.
“Behind it? By the cafeteria? Yes, ma’am,” Dontay said over the phone as he grabbed a small Post-it note and wrote down some information. “Okay. Yes, ma’am. I’m going to let him know right now.” Then Dontay hung up the phone.
“What is it?” Morley asked as Dontay ripped the yellow Post-it note from the pad, got up, and hurried toward the chief’s office.
“Dontay, what is it?” another cop asked too.
But Dontay didn’t even hear them. He hurried to the chief’s office, knocked only once and then, to the surprise of the veteran cops who wouldn’t dare take such a liberty, hurried on in.
They looked at each other. All they knew was that something had happened at Saint Chris Academy. And for normally cool Dontay to act the way he did, they also knew it had to be something bad.
CHAPTER SIX
Charly exhaled when she turned onto the street that housed Saint Christopher Academy. She had so much excitement in her heart she could hardly contain it. This wasn’t going to be just any old job to her, like all of those other jobs she’d held since she was fired or, as the district put it at the time, since they decided not to renew her contract. She was getting back on her career path. She was grateful to have been given a second chance.
And oddly enough, the position, as the dean of students at a tiny, backwater but prestigious school, was considered by her to be her best assignment to date. Not because Saint Christopher was larger than her previous school: it wasn’t. She was dean of girls previously at a big, sprawling public school. And although Saint Christopher was ranked among the best schools in Kentucky, she was certain it wouldn’t hold a candle to any school in L.A.
But she considered it her best assignment because of the timing. She needed this gig like she needed air to breathe. In her previous life, she could pick and choose what jobs she took or didn’t take. Those days, she knew with a certainty, were gone. Now this job was the only game in town. It was her new lifeline.
It was a lifeline if she ignored the fact that it was in Kentucky of all places, in a town called Hemingway that wasn’t even on most maps, and that it was at a school, according to her internet search, that was literally all-white. But regardless of all of that, she was pumped. Her life, after all of that terribleness, was finally getting back on track.
She felt that way until she pulled into the parking lot of the beautiful school and saw what appeared to be a dozen police cars, with their sirens still twirling, in the back part of the school. It looked like more police cars than she thought would be in the whole of a town that small. Even the parking space reserved for the dean of students, her new position, had a red sportscar backed up into it. Something was happening. And it was something, if the show of force was any indication, horrific. Charly’s excitement took a significant dip.
She was praying for peace and calm and this was what greeted her? What looked like an active crime scene?
Her heart now pounding, she grabbed her purse and briefcase and got out of her Nissan. Although the action appeared to be in the back of the school, Charly was, by nature, a cautious person. She didn’t run to trouble, although it always seemed to find her out. She, instead, headed inside the brick building, across the marbled hall, and into the main office.
The entire front office staff appeared to be on the phones reassuring nervous parents when Charly walked in. As soon as the secretary, or the clerk, or the administrative assistant hung up the phone they were on, another call came in, forcing them to pick right back up. It was maddening.
But Charly waited patiently. She saw those police cars. She’d not only be calling, but would be making an appearance at that school if her child was there. But since she had no children, thanks to Darryl’s desire not to be a father, that was not an issue.
Finally, after several more hang-ups and pick-ups, the secretary, Minnie Fennel, made her way over to the long counter that kept her and her staff behind the desk, and visitors in front of it. “May I help you?” she asked.
“Yes, thank you. My name is Charlene Johnson,” she said with a smile and with her hand extended. “I am the new--”
“Oh,” Minnie interrupted her. “It’s you.”
Charly could feel the animus, but she didn’t let the secretary’s refusal to shake her hand shake her smile. “Yes, it’s me,” she said, and placed her hand back by her side.
“The chief told them to wait in the conference room,” Minnie said. “Go down this hall and take a left.” Her phone began ringing again. “It’ll be the first door on your right.” She answered her phone. “Saint Chris Academy, may I help you?”