Lisa Scottoline - Save Me

“Hi, Jill.” Rose slid her sunglasses onto her head and walked to the counter. The main secretary’s desk was on the other side, a petite, friendly woman named Jill Piero.

“Hello, Rose.” Jill looked up from her keyboard with a smile that hardened like ice. “How’s Melly?”

“Fine, thanks.” Rose wasn’t completely surprised by the cold shoulder. “I was wondering if you could help me. Melly was really close to Kristen Canton, and she’s so sad that Kristen’s gone.”

“Yes, it’s too bad.” Jill pursed her lips.

“Kristen said she’d call us to say hi to Melly, but so far she hasn’t. Do you have a number where I can call her?”

“I don’t know if we have it, but even if we did, I wouldn’t be permitted to give that out.”

“But Kristen was close to Melly, and she wouldn’t mind.”

“Sorry, no can do.” Jill glanced behind her at the other secretaries, but they were both on the phone at their desks.

“Then can you call Kristen and ask her to give us a call? I’ll give you my cell number.”

“If we have a number for her, I will. I don’t even know if we do.”

“Can you check?” Rose thought a minute. “Or if you have a home address for her parents, I’d take that too. Then I could send her a note or maybe Melly could send her a card.”

“Hold on.” Jill turned and went behind the wall, which connected to the hallway to Mr. Rodriguez’s office.

Rose could hear talking, but couldn’t make out what anyone was saying. She waited a minute, but sensed where this was heading and decided to get proactive. She went to the right, down the hallway, about to find Mr. Rodriguez and ask him herself when she spotted the teachers’ mailboxes, to her left. Neat oak slots lined the wall, and each one was open, many with mail.

Rose scanned the nameplates, in alphabetical order, and reached the C’s. Kristen Canton. Her mailbox was lower than eye-level, and there was a thin packet of mail inside. The school must have been accumulating mail, to forward it when they had enough. She slid it out quickly and read the forwarding address, printed in ballpoint pen next to the crossed-out school address. 765 Roberts Lane Boonsboro MD.She committed it to memory, went back to the counter, and waited for Jill, who returned after a few minutes.

“Sorry, we don’t have her cell and we can’t give out her parents’ home address.”

“Thanks for trying, bye.” Rose left the office, flipped down her sunglasses, walked from the building, and slid out her phone, adding the Cantons’ address to her list of contacts, so she wouldn’t forget it. She started to go back to her car with John, but it was too nice a day to sit in a car, until dismissal. On impulse, she walked to the back of the building and through the teacher’s parking lot, shaking off some unhappy flashbacks.

Here’s the ambulance!

She went around the back of the building and ended up on the far side of the school. The township parking lot lay to her left, and the school buses sat parked against the cyclone fence like a row of yellowed teeth. She passed the grassy stretch of athletic fields, with their soccer goals outlined, and approached the cafeteria from the other side.

She was downwind, where the breeze carried the stench of burned plastic, and the sight filled her with renewed sadness. A new plywood wall concealed the cafeteria, which had been state-of-the-art, and she walked along on grass blackened and filthy with mud and charred debris. Workmen flowed in and out of the site through an opening in the plywood, pushing wheelbarrows of charred debris, or carrying building materials. One of the workmen, in a white Bethany Run T-shirt and Carhartt pants, was her carpenter friend from the night before, Kurt Rehgard.

Kurt looked over, recognizing her, with a slow grin. “Hey, Mrs. Lawyer,” he called out, coming over as his buddies exchanged glances, behind him. “How’s your daughter?”

“Back to school.”

“I didn’t hear from you, so I figured you’re not getting that divorce.” Kurt grinned. “And I know who you are, even with those big shades on. I saw your picture online. The article wasn’t very nice.”

“I didn’t mean to keep it from you.” Rose reddened, and Kurt met her gaze directly, his eyes flinty under his hardhat.

“Yes, you did.”

“Okay, maybe I did.” Rose felt unmasked. “I guess they know who I am, too. Your buddies.”

“Those clowns?” Kurt gestured behind him. “No way. If they go online, it’s for porn. I went to one year of community college, and they think I’m Einstein.”

Rose couldn’t smile. “I didn’t leave that little girl behind. I thought I got her out, but she ran back in.”

“I didn’t think you’d just leave her there. I can tell. I’m a good judge of character. Also, you keep coming back here, looking so sad, like you’re visiting a grave. It said online that that little girl’s family wants to sue you. Are they for real?”

“Evidently.”

“That’s crap.” Kurt frowned. “It’s not your fault. I told you the wiring was bad, and the gas leaked, too. The GC was Campanile. Those are the guys who need to get their ass sued.”

Rose made a mental note of the name. “Are they a good contractor?”

“Yes. Campanile is top-drawer, but mistakes happen, even with the best outfits. The electrical contractor messed up, and the building inspector shoulda caught the mistakes. He certified it, so he messed up, too.”

“But the inspector would’ve certified it before the school opened, right?”

“Yes.”

“So why did it blow up now, in October? School’s been open for a month.”

“You ever put a penny in a fuse box? A lotta guys, they do a jury-rigged job, down-and-dirty, to get it done when the client wants in. They tell themselves they’ll come back later and do it right, but they don’t. Or they forget. Or they get canned. If that’s what happened, that’s on Campanile, the GC, or the building inspector. Not you.”

“What a mess.” Rose shook her head, thinking down the line. “This is going to be the lawsuit from hell, and that’s if they don’t bring criminal charges.”

“Against you? That’s ridiculous. Tell you what.” Kurt checked behind him again. “Let me do some asking around, and I’ll see what I can find out about how it happened. Off the record.”

“Really? Thanks.”

“No sweat. When I read that article, I thought of my niece, the one I told you about. Kids are precious, and we gotta take care of ’em, and sometimes, like with Iraq and all, we gotta take care of each other’s. You really stepped up for those kids.”

“Thanks,” Rose said, touched.

“S’all right. Gimme your phone number, for official use only.” Kurt slid out his cell phone, Rose did the same, and they added each other’s numbers to their contacts.

“Aren’t we so modern?” Rose asked, and Kurt grinned.

“Hell, to me, that was phone sex.”

Rose walked around the back of the school, shifted John to her hip, checked her phone for the address of Kristen’s parents, then dialed information. She got their home phone and let the call connect, stopping in front of an empty parking space.

“You have reached the Canton residence,” said the voicemail, and Rose waited for the beep, disappointed.

“Hello, I’m Rose McKenna, trying to reach Kristen. She taught my daughter at Reesburgh Elementary, and she was going to call us. We hope to hear from her. Please call when you get a sec, thanks.” She left her home and cell number, pressed END, and dropped the phone back into her purse.

She checked the time on the phone, and it was 2:25-ten minutes until dismissal. The buses were lined up and idling at the long driveway, and SUVs and minivans were pulling into the parking lot. A group of walkers, who lived close to the school, were assembling at the entrance ramp, standing with babies in their arms or in strollers. They were talking, still abuzz from the morning, but none of them noticed Rose. Suddenly, she spotted a boxy white newsvan stop at the entrance to the parking lot, open the sliding door, and disgorge Tanya and her cameraman behind the cordon.