Marcia Clark: The Competition

“They really didn’t say anything, except ‘Knock, knock’ and the things I already told you. And then the countdown.”

“Did either of the voices sound familiar?” I asked. Harley shook his head. “They didn’t say anything about jocks?” I continued. The “why” of this atrocity was going to be the focal point of the investigation. The more I could gather from the survivors about the suspects’ words and behavior, the more we’d learn about their possible motives.

“No. But I heard that they called out the jocks when they were in the gym. Everyone’s saying they probably got bullied by them.”

“‘Everyone’s saying’?” I asked.

Harley held out his cell phone, the bane of most investigations. We always try to keep witnesses from talking to each other and influencing each other’s memories. But it was obviously a hopeless cause in this case.

Harley leaned forward. “Can I ask you a question?”

I nodded.

“Have you seen Christy Shilling? I’ve been calling and calling, but I keep getting her voice mail. She’s a cheerleader. She was in the gym when…” Harley licked dry lips that barely moved. “Is she okay?” His voice cracked.

“I don’t know, Harley,” I said. “It’s going to take a little while to find everyone. I’m sorry.”

Harley’s mouth trembled as he nodded. He’d been holding it together pretty well, but I could see that wasn’t going to last much longer. I fought the urge to put my arms around him. The paramedic gave me a warning look. I nodded. I wasn’t going to ask him any more questions. At least, not right now. Whatever else he’d seen-and I didn’t think it was much-he was too traumatized to remember it. We’d come back to Harley when he was in better shape. I looked at Bailey, who shook her head. We thanked him and headed for Bailey’s car.

“You said some kids got video?” I asked.

“Yeah, we’ve been collecting their phones,” Graden said. “Which really made them happy.”

“Who’s got them?”

“I’ll check.”

“No, I’ll do it,” Bailey said. “You’ve got bigger fish to fry. Thanks for the walk-through.”

Graden nodded to Bailey, gave me a warm smile, and walked off to do lieutenant business.

Bailey started to scroll on her cell phone but stopped abruptly as she stared over my left shoulder. “Well, what do you know.”

I turned to see the head coroner, Dr. Shoenmacher-affectionately known as Dr. Shoe-and my buddy, coroner’s investigator Scott Ferrier, walking briskly behind him. The head honcho showing up at a crime scene was a first for me. And it was even more surprising given the fact that the perpetrators were dead. But I was all for it. In a tragedy of this magnitude, we had to pull out all the stops to answer the how, the why, and-the most impossible question of them all-the what to do to make sure it never happens again. But I was sure it was also a political move, a grand CYA to head off the lawsuits that were probably already being cooked up in law firms around the county.

“Want to go watch him do his thing while I chase down the cell phones?” Bailey asked.

“You mind?”

“No. I’ll meet you up there when I’m done. I’d like to watch the master in action myself.”

I started to head back into the school, then remembered a question I’d meant to ask Graden. “Hey, Bailey!” She stopped and turned. “Who’s getting the footage from the school surveillance cameras?” Most schools had them nowadays. And I had a feeling that would soon beg the question as to why they didn’t also all have metal detectors.

“There’s some unis on it,” she said. “We should have it pretty soon.”

I hurried back into the school. When I got to the library, I found Dr. Shoe standing to the right side of the suspects’ bodies, hands on his hips, wearing a frown that made him look like a bald eagle. He moved down to their feet, backed a few steps away, and tilted his head to the left, still frowning. “Scottie, get me the-no, wait.” Dr. Shoe scanned the surrounding crowd of officers, crime scene techs, and paramedics with narrowed eyes. “No one moved these bodies, did they?” In near unison, the group shook their heads and said, “No.” Dr. Shoe looked skeptical. “Where’s the first officer?”

A blonde man with a runner’s physique raised his hand. “I was the first EMT, but a SWAT officer was already here. He told me to forget about these guys and sent me over there”-he pointed to the area where Harley and the girl had been hiding.

“So you’re telling me you never touched these bodies?”

“Yeah. I mean, it was obvious there was nothing to be done for them.”

“You have the name of this SWAT officer?” Dr. Shoe asked.

Another officer spoke up before the paramedic could answer. “It’ll be in the log, Doctor. I can get it for you.”

“Don’t get me the name. Get me the officer. I want him here. Right now.”

A low murmur rolled through the room as the logbook was located and examined. I’d heard that Dr. Shoe was a charmer in the courtroom, but I’d never heard about this side of him-the crime scene martinet. I wondered if he was married. He and Dorian would be a perfect match.

When Bailey joined me, she scanned the hushed room. “What’s going on?”

I filled her in and asked her about the cell phones. “Still checking,” she whispered.

A burly SWAT officer dressed all in black clomped into the room. He faced the coroner with a clenched jaw. “I was the first officer on scene in the library. What can I do for you?”

Dr. Shoe, who’d been directing Scott’s photography, peered closely at the officer. “You can answer a question. I need that answer to be completely and perfectly accurate. Did you touch these bodies?”

“Yes. I put two fingers to each of their wrists to check for a pulse. I didn’t want to touch the neck because…”

“Yes, I know, I know, too much blood and it was obvious they were dead.” He waved an impatient hand. “Last question: did you move any part of them in any way, no matter how slight?”

“Absolutely not. As soon as I confirmed they were dead, I taped off the perimeter.” The SWAT officer looked around the room. “After that I believe an officer was posted here to make sure nothing got disturbed. But that was out of my purview.”

The police officer who’d offered to help earlier now spoke up. “I’m pretty sure someone was continually posted because I relieved the officer who’d been standing guard before me.”

“I’ll need a list of all the officers who got posted here,” Dr. Shoe said. “Who’s the investigating officer in charge?”

Bailey stepped forward and introduced herself, but they didn’t shake hands.

“I’d like to talk to you privately,” the doctor said. He led Bailey out of the room, and I fell in behind them. When we got to the elevator, he frowned at me. “This is a private discussion.”

Again? Now he was going to throw me out? “I’m the prosecutor on the case. Whatever you have to say, I need to hear it.”

Dr. Shoe looked at Bailey for confirmation, and she nodded. “Yeah, she’s okay.”

We exited the school and headed for the area at the back. It was the only spot that was safe from prying microphones and cameras. Dr. Shoe motioned for us to sit down on a stone bench.

“I suppose you’re here to prepare this case for trial?” he asked me.

“Usually I would be,” I said. “But in this case…well, obviously, there isn’t going to be a trial.”

“You’re the lawyer so I won’t presume to tell you your job. But I am the pathologist, and I will presume to tell you this: the position of the bodies in that library does not fit with the scenario everyone seems to have accepted.”