Chapter Four
Sonya, when she recalled the events leading up to the second shooting, would have told anyone that the day was only about dealing with the weather.
Aron had given Sonya a ride to East Marine High School, a sprawling building constructed in the 1960s. The temperature was still freezing, and many parents had the same idea as Aron, vehicles parked around the buses, the students making a beeline for the school.
The area was not known for crime, the school boasting a few security guards and metal detectors.
A tenth grader named Danny Brooks was dropped off by his mother a few minutes after Sonya. Aron had already left the parking lot, but Danny’s mother was stuck between two other vehicles at the curb in front of the school.
Danny was wearing a heavy puffer coat, a Michigan State University dark green knitted cap on his head. His backpack was heavy on his back, booted feet clomping up the shoveled walkway to the front doors. There were other students in front and behind him.
Sonya found Bobby in the cafeteria. She had just unzipped her coat when she heard two shots. A piercing scream followed and the alarms went off. A crowd rushed to the windows. In minutes, Mr. Yakes, Sonya’s math teacher, and Mr. Jau, the assistant principal, waved their arms and yelled for silence. The excited chatter and sobs quieted down. The students were told to stay put, but Sonya and Bobby had already wandered to the windows by the main doors. Every student outdoors had been brought inside, the building locked down. Principal Fleming, a tall, olive-skinned woman, her thick black hair short and curly, was on her knees, giving Danny Brooks CPR. His mother was holding his hand; she was weeping, almost screaming. “Danny! Stay awake!” They could all see the blood on the paved walkway, soaking into the snow. Mrs. Fleming stopped CPR, rubbing her freezing hands. A security guard took over. A student standing near Danny when he was shot was taken to the nurse; blood had spattered on the girl’s white coat and braided hair.
Sonya realized she was shivering, although she was still bundled up. Bobby was mute. The student body had grown quiet and somber, more confused than shocked. Many had pulled out their phones to call their parents. The sirens of the ambulance and police arrived in minutes, but Danny was dead. Sonya called Aron, her voice feeling far away. Her father said he would be there soon. Bobby also called his mother, assuring her that he was safe.
He sat down next to Sonya in the cafeteria. “That biker guy. Now this...”
“This is worse,” Sonya said.
A small group of students, kids Sonya had never noticed before, were huddled together, a girl sobbing. Sonya wouldn’t learn the name of the dead student on the walkway until later.
Jessica Holden, the first victim of the Ravisher, her slashed face now healed but scarred, approached Bobby and Sonya. Over the months, the sweet and shy Jess had experienced a personality change brought on by the attack and a dependence on pain medication. She was very thin now, her skin peppered with acne, her once thick brown hair limp. She walked the hallways like a wraith, floating from class to class, with nothing to say, except the occasional hello to Piper or Sonya. The rest of the crowd Jess had been friends with from cheerleading at East Marine Middle School no longer had much in common with her.
“Hi, Jess,” Sonya said.
“Hi. That boy’s name is Danny Brooks. That’s his girlfriend crying over there. Marissa...”
“Did you know him?” Bobby asked.
“No. This is bad...”
“There’s cameras in the parking lot,” Sonya said. “Whoever did it would have to be stupid.”
“But the cameras are only pointed on the lot,” Bobby said. “No one else was shot but Danny. That would make it seem less random, right?”
Principal Fleming, blood on her blouse and skirt, and Mr. Jau, a short, stocky Asian, straight black hair cut military short, moved the student body to the gym. The students were split up according to grade, forced to sit at the bleachers facing the stage.
Mr. Jau, using a microphone, said,”If any student saw anything that could help police, please come to this side of the gym.”
Few students were outdoors at the time of the shooting, most rushing inside to get warm. Some bus drivers and parents in their vehicles had remained. These people were also brought inside, Danny’s mother taken to Mrs. Fleming’s office. This left a few kids who may be witnesses, including the girl taken to the nurse.
Nervous chatter filled the gym after a while. Police officers, over a dozen, were all over the school, the state cops yet to appear. The Medical Examiner’s van came to take Danny’s body away, some EMTs remaining. Shock was setting in, and Sonya saw a few of her teachers weeping, even tough old Mrs. Grover, who taught English.
“Everyone’s freaked,” Bobby said. “We’re getting sent home for sure.”
“Maybe not right away,” Sonya said. “The witnesses have to give statements. All parents have to be notified.”
Sonya felt her phone vibrate in her hand. Cal’s name appeared on the screen.
“Hey, Cal.”
“You all right?”
“I’m okay.”
“Did you talk to your dad?”
“On his way.”
“Good. If you can, keep an eye out for Garcia. If you see him, call me.”
“Why?”
“I have a feeling that this shooting, as tragic as it is, is going to take the local cops out of the equation. State and federal now.”
“The FBI?” Sonya asked.
At those words, Bobby’s head turned sharply in Sonya’s direction.
“Most likely,” Cal said. “Which means nationwide coverage. The news trucks will be on their way.”
“They can’t come in this soon.”
“Then they’ll be across the street, trying to stay out of the way.”
“So you just want me to watch out for Garcia?” Sonya asked.
“Yeah, that’s it.” He paused. “Did you hear the shots?”
“Yes. There were two.”
“What did the shots sound like?”
“What do you mean?”
“More of a cracking noise or a pow-pow?”
“Pow-pow. Why?”
“That’s more of a military rifle going off than a hunting rifle. Hunting guns make more of a cracking sound.”
“The police think the gun that shot Waylon Johnson was military, based on the shells they found.”
“This is going to sound callous, but the M.E. will be looking for the same kind of shells in that boy at autopsy.”
“His name was Danny Brooks. I don’t know where on his body he was shot, but he died almost instantly.”
“The head, most likely. Same as Waylon.”
“Connected?”
“I’m starting to think so. If that’s the case, we could have a sniper. The whole city could be at risk.”
School was dismissed early, students slowly being allowed to leave the building, the area covered with local police. However, Sonya caught no sign of Garcia.
Aron dropped Bobby off at the apartments. He was walking down the hallway when the door to Archie’s place swung open. “I heard about that kid getting shot. You okay?”
Bobby nodded. “It all happened so fast, I haven’t absorbed it all.”
“You want to come in? Colin went out.”
Bobby saw no point in returning to an empty apartment, so he stepped in.
“You want some orange juice? A bagel?”
“I’ll take the juice, thanks.”
Bobby sat at the table, his backpack at his feet.
Archie opened the refrigerator. “I have to admit, there’s not much I miss about going to school.”
“Nothing like this has ever happened at East Marine. We have bullying, drugs, locker checks, and metal detectors. The biggest dealer at my school is this kid named Todd Kemp. He’s in a wheelchair and weighs, like, three hundred pounds. But he just deals in pot and pills, maybe X or ketamine. Small-time stuff. He never gets busted because he doesn’t deal on
school grounds, just talks with his customers. My friend Jess buys from him a lot since she was attacked.”
Archie set the glass of juice in front of Bobby. “What happened to her?”
Bobby explained about the Ravisher’s attacks, Piper’s psychotic friend Justine Kent, and how Kyle Stone was revealed to be the Ravisher.
“The story was reported all over the country,” Bobby said. “I’m surprised you didn’t hear about it.”
“That was before I left home and my church,” Archie said.
“Were you a Christian?”
“No.”
“Do you want to tell me? If not, it’s okay.”
“Not right now.”
“You can trust me.”
“Thanks. Trust is important.”
“You made it sound like you lost your family.”
“I guess I have. I miss them, but I couldn’t live like that. I almost killed myself.”
“Why did Colin want out?”
“Colin’s wife left him. He isn’t sure if he wants to go back or not.”
“What if he does?”
“I’m hoping to be eighteen by the time he makes up his mind.”
“So they let him...take a leave?”
“Right. They might welcome him back, but not me. I got sent away to a special camp. Pray away the gay.”
“Were you willing?”
“I was told that my life would be easier if I was straight. I made the mistake of believing it. The other kids there wanted to believe it, too. Boys were shown pictures of half-naked girls and asked if we could imagine ourselves having sex with these girls. The girls at the camp were encouraged to flirt with us. We all ended up becoming friends. We prayed to God to make us straight. These two boys ended up running away together, but were caught and brought back. They were taken to the Sweat Lodges, these trailers where there was no water or A/C. No food. The trailers were in the woods. I was told a kid died out there from the heat. When we weren’t praying, we were forced to run on the grounds all day. I stayed safe because a girl agreed to be my girlfriend, we had to pretend, kissing and holding hands. We got to go home.”
Bobby shook his head. “Who are these people, Archie?”
“Colin told me that if I talked too much-which I have-I would be sent back.”
Archie looked down, but Bobby saw his eyes tear up. “Are you safe?”
“I’ll always be safe as long as I stay away.”
“Does Colin keep you safe?”
“No one is safe. Not really.”
“How do you feel?” Aron asked.
Sonya shrugged. “I’m okay.”
Sonya was sitting at the kitchen table with her father.
“While I was at school,” she said, “Cal called me. He thinks that Waylon’s shooting and Danny’s are connected. There might be a sniper.”
“If so, the police won’t keep it a secret. With a sniper, anyone can be a target.”
“That’s really scary, Dad.”
“When you go to school, stay inside. No walking to Mack’s store for lunch.”
“Considering that it’s freezing, I won’t complain.”
“The visibility was low the night Waylon was shot. His shooter would have to be skilled.”
“Military?”
“Marines. Maybe Army.”
“Are there shooting ranges in Marine?” Sonya asked.
“A few. The hunters like to practice.”
“Do those places sell stuff that a sniper would want?”
“Yes. Ammunition.”
“When I watch movies that feature a sniper, like Jarhead, they have these fancy scopes on their rifles.”
Bill was in the kitchen, pouring himself a cup of coffee. “I used to have a nice scope on my Winchester.”
Bill had been an avid hunter and fisherman until the Alzheimer’s caused him to become lost and confused whenever he would go hunting. He chose to sell most of his old hunting guns, knives, and equipment.
“How many feet can a hunting scope cover?” Aron asked.
“Up to fifty yards. Some can go up to a hundred, but those cost more. Very fancy.”
“The shooter could have been far away,” Sonya said.
“Or on a rooftop,” Aron said. “Or another vehicle.”
“But if this guy is a sniper, military-trained, he wouldn’t be so dumb. The cameras are easy to detect in the parking lot.”
“Off the grounds? Using a powerful scope?”
“It would be easier to get away, not squeezed between other cars and the buses. I only heard two shots...”
“All it took to kill a sixteen year old boy. I’m glad I retired from teaching before school shootings became commonplace.”
“I thought Mrs. Fleming and the other staff handled it really well. Mrs. Fleming gave Danny CPR; she had blood all over her. Danny’s mom was hysterical...”
Sonya stopped speaking. Aron covered her hand with his own. “Things are not going to be same at school, but the police will be watching.”
“The police can’t be everywhere at once,” Bill said. “You never know where crazy people are going to wander.”
“Well, there’s crazy and then there’s psycho.”
“Right. To catch a psycho, you have to think like one.”
Aron exchanged a look with Sonya. “But crazy people aren’t all the same, Bill. They’re crazy for different reasons.”
“Well, these sniper types are mad as Hell about something and want attention. Even if they have to hurt innocent kids. And we never know when it’s going to happen. It’s like a storm we don’t know is coming until it’s too late. Then all we can do is find shelter.”
Cal’s conversation with Detective Garcia was a dead end. Garcia did not confirm that both shootings were connected or if the FBI was in town. Cal knew he was getting nowhere, so he decided to concentrate on something else.
Cal, upon being let go from the now-defunct print edition of The Marine Press, where he had been the lone crime reporter for almost thirty years, still wrote the occasional piece for the on-line Press as a free-lancer, but was putting most of his energy into his book on The Blue Diamonds MC and his new interest, The Church of Mankind.
Cal found what information he could about The Church, mostly from on-line sources. A book had been written and self-published by a former member. The book was entitled A Hundred Lifetimes: My Life in The Church of Mankind. The author was Thomas Lang, Frieda’s Union’s stepson, her husband Henry Lang’s son. Henry had disappeared a year ago, and Thomas, having had enough of the cold-blooded Frieda and The Church’s elusiveness, wrote a book about growing up in The Church of Mankind. Thomas was at the mercy of the Unions until Marshall, the old prophet, died. Frieda and her brother Timothy broke off from The Church and sued; the organization worth almost a billion dollars. Marshall had left leadership of The Church to his friend Lance Hawkins.
Matthew Hawkins was the name of the pastor of the Marine Church of Mankind. Cal picked up the phone, dialing the number he found on The Church’s local website.
A woman’s voice. “Hello?”
“Hello. Could I speak to Pastor Hawkins, please?”
“He is out right now. May I take a message?”
“Please. Tell him Cal Whistler from The Marine Press called, requesting an interview-“
“Pastor Matt doesn’t give interviews.”
“Well, most Mariners read the Press, so Pastor Matt may want to think about it. He can share more information about The Church, attract more potential followers. I hear that the congregation here is quite small. Mariners have a tendency to be frightened of new things, such as a religion they’re not familiar with. But please tell the pastor to give me a call.”
After they said their good-byes, Cal thought about what he had said. He had no reason to believe that the pastor would call back.
Cal went on-line and found A Hundred Lifetimes. He purchased and downloaded the book into his computer. Before he started reading, he checked his
e-mail. His Diamond source had come through, Donut granting permission for Cal to attend Waylon’s funeral. Cal was touched; he felt sorry for Donut and Carrie, Waylon being their only child. Cal replied to the e-mail, thanking his source.
Cal had returned to the book when his phone rang.
“Mr. Whistler? This is Pastor Matthew Hawkins.”
“Hello, Pastor. Thank you for getting back to me.”
“No problem. Why don’t we schedule a time for an interview?”
The pastor’s voice had a buoyant, cheerful quality, reminiscent of old-time ministers. “Wonderful. I have a funeral to attend tomorrow–“
“How about later in the week? Friday morning at nine-thirty?”
“Sounds good. I’m looking forward to it.”