Reunion (A Psychological Suspense with Murder, Mystery and the Paranormal) (7 page)

As usual, Bryan drove past Kate Schmidt Tooley’s house at 1:15 p.m., just before he made his rounds by the old high school. When he turned the corner, Kate glanced at the car and pretended not to see him. He arrived promptly as always. She continued walking in step with Bryan’s perfectly timed stop at her mailbox.

He rolled his window down as she approached the rendezvous point.

“Good afternoon, Mrs. Tooley.” He squinted to avoid the sun in his eyes.

“Hello, Officer.” She gave the gift of her smile in return for his consistent visits.

For Bryan Jacobs and Kate Tooley, this had become a ritual of mutual understanding. After the shooting, Bryan had to give up any hope of being with Kate. She clung to Nick, because he clung to her. The loss of Nick’s twin brother, and the trauma from the shooting, became their uniting force. Time and Nick’s behavior, however, had begun to gnaw at Kate’s empathy.

Bryan’s enduring interest in Kate helped to thrust an ever-increasing wedge between Nick and his wife. Bryan wanted to be with Kate, but the shooting interrupted his intentions. The opportunity he hoped for never came. Nick was strategically in place when Kate needed someone. After the shooting, she rode the strongest wave that could carry her out of her ocean of pain. Although Nick steered a sinking ship, he was there when Kate needed him most.

Twenty years later, Bryan’s hopes were reinvigorated. Nick was still the same but Kate was changing. She seemed to be looking to Bryan once again as a way out. And so they met, secretly wishing for something better than what they had.

The ritual continued.

“Is everything all right in the neighborhood today?” Kate asked.

“Well, from what I can see, everything looks good…real good.” Bryan’s eyes wandered across her full figure. He reached out of his window, opened her mailbox and grabbed her mail. They reached toward each other’s hand and made an exchange that included their habitual, tender gazing. Both parties expected the touch, but never spoke of it. She removed the mail from his hand.

Her heart raced.

Bryan put his left hand over his eyes to block the sun.

“How’s Nick doing anyway?” he asked. “Is he back at work yet?”

“Oh, he’s fine. They called him back last week after he completed his treatment.”

Kate blushed. Nick wasn’t even close to fine.

Bryan looked away and sighed. “Treatment, huh?”

“Yeah. He’s been struggling lately.”

She couldn’t escape making excuses for him. She had done it for twenty years. Aside from his fight with PTSD, Nick had never recovered from the loss of his twin. Alcohol became his escape. Kate knew it was his best attempt to drown out the pain and the memories of that tragic day.

The conversation stirred up thoughts in Kate’s mind. She stood next to Bryan and remembered how terrified Nick’s eyes had looked when David killed Randy. She could still hear the sound of blood bubbling out of Randy’s open wounds.

“He’s doing fine.” She nodded her head. “We’ll be fine.”

I’ll never be fine, she thought. And Nick…fine? Yeah right!

“Well, I’m glad to hear that,” said Bryan. “But hey, I better get going. I’ve gotta run by the school and make sure everything’s okay. Apparently, there’s been some commotion there the last few nights. Probably just some kids vandalizing again, but I want to look the campus over in case I see anything out of the ordinary.”

Kate stared at Bryan. “I don’t know how you do it.” She crossed her arms. “I mean, I could never go back there.” She looked at Bryan with concern.

“It’s all part of the job. I’ll be okay. I’ve walked around that building a time or two over the years; you know, just thinking and trying to push past the memories.”

“Did it help?”

“Not sure. I still can’t go to the shooting range or crowded places. So what does that tell you?”

“Well, I just hope you’re all right. I’ll pray for you. Would that be okay?”

“Oh come on, Kate. I’m just going for a walk!”

“It can’t hurt, can it?”

“I guess not.” Bryan winked at Kate and said, “Thanks. I appreciate your concern. See you tomorrow?”

“See you tomorrow. Be careful, okay?”

Bryan nodded his head, rolled up the window and drove away. Kate waved and headed back inside. As she walked up her driveway, she began to replay memories of the massacre. Normally, she was consumed with Nick and his problems, but her conversation with Bryan triggered yet another recollection.

Her mind led her back to the cafeteria. She could vividly hear the chairs across the room sliding and falling, leaving streaks on the waxed tile. She heard kids screaming and the hushed voices that tried to avoid detection. All the friends sitting at her table dropped to the floor when they heard the first couple of shots. She remembered talking to Nick.

“What was that?” she asked, nearly hyperventilating.

“I don’t know.” Nick lifted his head and looked around.

One of the students shrieked in fear. “Oh, my God! He’s got a gun! He’s got a gun!”

“A gun?” asked Kate. “Who?”

“SSShhhhhh,” demanded Nick. “Don’t let him hear you.” Nick covered Kate’s head with his arms.

“Who is it?” she asked.

Nick squinted and peered over the table. “I think it’s David Ray. Son—of—a—bitch!”

The
loser
had become their worst nightmare. Without warning, Kate and her friends had to stay calm, stay hidden and think rationally to remain safe. The intensity of the moment caused time to move in slow motion—or so it seemed. Kate could only see through the gaps between Nick’s arms. Her heavy breathing made the air warm and gave her a sense of claustrophobia. When she turned her head away from Nick’s torso, she took a deep breath and caught a glimpse of his petrified eyes. They grew bigger by the second.

She heard David Ray shout, “Nick Tooley! You’re next!”

Nick widened his eyes and screamed, “Nooooo!” Kate screamed too.

Boom!

David mistakenly shot Nick’s brother, Randy, at close range. Randy’s face exploded in a miasma of flesh and bones and blood, splattering all over Kate and Nick. The buckshot blasted the front of his face off, leaving a large chasm in his skull.

Back in the present, Kate felt sick. She could barely stand. She instantly grew weak and then physically ill. Her mouth thrust forward and she vomited violently onto the driveway. The memory remained so powerful that she felt as if she were still there. She spat and wiped her mouth.

Habitually ignoring her own needs she thought, I’d better get this cleaned up before Nick gets home.

• • •

Bryan drove several blocks to the north and eventually pulled into the old high school parking lot. Things looked very different from how they had twenty years before. New trees, tall weeds and grass sprouted up in the middle of concrete sidewalks and what used to be well-manicured landscaping. Several windows were broken from vandalism and boarded up to prevent further destruction.

Driving through the parking lot, Bryan saw four teenagers playing basketball on the outdoor basketball court. Most kids stayed away from the school, with the exception of Halloween, when ghost stories and vandalism ran wild.

He looked at the kids. That’s unusual, he thought. Surrounded by tall grass and small tree starts, the basketball court had just enough room for a half-court pickup game. Bryan observed the boys as his Crown Victoria rumbled toward the building. They’re actually pretty good ball players, he thought. One of the boys attempted a slam dunk, but just missed. The ball ricocheted off the rim and bounced into the tall grass near the side entrance where David Ray had entered the building for the last time.

Bryan watched the boys carefully as his cruiser rumbled closer.

For some reason the boy chasing the ball stopped dead in his tracks. He was transfixed—apparently afraid of something.

“What the hell?” Bryan stopped the car and stepped out. His chest froze in fear.

L
ana Jones stood in the back of the auditorium at Lakewood Middle School in Sedona, Arizona, while the principal introduced her at their “character building” convocation. From the time she had written a book about her experience at Crescent Falls, she’d been a regular speaker at schools and universities across the country. At the age of thirty-seven, Lana remained an attractive brunette, sporting a glittery jean jacket, salmon blouse, and size 4 capris. She refused to live in the past. She managed to live with what happened, while maintaining an optimistic outlook on life. Regardless of the holes in her heart or the scars from the past, she pressed on. She stood in the back of the auditorium with her daughter Zoe.

The principal concluded, “So without further ado, let’s give a big Lakewood welcome to Miss Lana Jones!”

The faculty and students cheered and clapped in anticipation of hearing what she had to say. Lana limped briskly down the center isle with the assistance of her ivory-handled cane. She smiled and waved, greeting the students and members of the faculty as she hobbled toward the stage. Lana gave the principal a big high five and he gave her the microphone.

“Thank you! Thank you so much, Principal Weaver. And thank you, Lakewood Middle School!” The crowd began to settle down. “You have all been so kind and gracious. I just can’t tell you how welcome you have made me feel today. So from the bottom of my heart, thank you so much for your kind hospitality.” She paused to smile, then continued.

“As Principal Weaver said, my name is Lana Jones and I’m a survivor of the Crescent Falls school shooting that happened twenty years ago. That may seem like a long time to many of you, because most of you weren’t even born when it happened. But to me, it seems like yesterday. The Crescent Falls shooting changed my life, the life of all my friends and most of our town. It’s a day that should never be forgotten.”

She had their attention. No one made a noise.

“I’m here today to help you celebrate this week, as your school focuses on character, because who you are and how you interact with others can change the world. Trust me, I’ve seen the best in people and I’ve seen the worst. And that’s where my story begins.”

Lana walked to the edge of the stage and sat down to create a more intimate setting.

“Twenty years ago, I was a senior at Crescent Falls High School in Crescent Falls, Idaho. It’s a very small town and we always felt safe there. But near the end of my senior year, a boy named David Ray walked into the cafeteria during our year-end award ceremony. He shot and killed eight students and critically wounded many more, including some of my very best friends.

“He was very disturbed and what he did was very, very wrong! However, I want to talk to you about the side of David Ray no one likes to discuss, because there are some who believe that what he did could have been prevented. I am one of them.

“You see, David Ray had a lot of problems. He was like all of us in the sense that we have problems too. Don’t we? But David had more than most. For starters, his parents were very mean to him. And he was on medication because his brain was having trouble, and for some reason, the kids at school teased him,
a lot
. But the real problem David had was that he wasn’t equipped to handle all of those difficulties. His troubles seemed to pile up, and he grew more and more angry at the world. Again, I’m not saying that makes what he did okay. I’m just telling you what was going on in his head as best we know.

“You see, David shot me in the arm and in the leg.” Lana pointed to her wounds. “In addition, I was pregnant at the time and nearly lost my baby. Fortunately, we both survived and my daughter Zoe is here with me today.” Lana pointed at the back of the auditorium, smiling with pride. “There she is. Zoe, let them know who you are.” The children turned their heads.

Zoe waved.

“Thank you, Zoe.” Lana turned her attention back to the crowd. “Anyway, what we discovered that day was a very complicated issue that affects all of us. We had lots of questions, but there were very few answers. Some people were outraged that David Ray had guns and wanted to blame what he did on gunmakers. Others wanted to blame his parents. Some people were mad at the pharmaceutical companies who made his medication, and some were upset at the people who made the music he listened to. In truth, we may never know exactly why he did what he did. All we can do is try our best to keep that from happening again.

“So, the question is, what can we do to keep something like that from happening? Or better yet, what can
you
do? I believe the answer has everything to do with character, because you can’t change what someone is going through at home; but you can ask. You can’t change the medication someone has to take; but you can care and be his or her friend. You can be kind. You can be gracious. You can include the ones who always seem to be alone. You can pick the
last
person anyone picks
first
for a change. You can listen and you can try to be compassionate to those who are different than you.

“You see, everyone has a story. You have a story. Your neighbor has a story. And David Ray had a story too. The problem is that we keep to ourselves. We avoid the stories of people who seem strange, or different, or even scary. But in reality, they’re human just like you and I. The David Rays of this world are out there right now, just waiting for someone to listen. They’re waiting for someone to care. They’re waiting for someone to hear their story.

“So, let me ask you a question. Will you have the character to listen, or care, or befriend the lost? Will you choose the neglected as well as the superstar? Will you have compassion and respect for every person, regardless of who they are or where they come from, even if they don’t look or dress like you? If you can answer yes to those questions, then you will make a difference. You will demonstrate good
character
, and quite possibly change the world.

“In David Ray’s case, no one listened. No one knew his story. No one cared. We didn’t know he was lonely. We didn’t know he was abused. We were oblivious to the fact that he was depressed. In fact, many of my friends, myself included, teased and harassed him on a regular basis. Much to our chagrin, we likely contributed to his hate and the consequences of that hate. We blew our chance. But it’s not too late for you. It’s not too late for each of you to be a hero to the David Rays of this world.