Tami Hoag - Deeper Than the Dead

“Lisa Warwick went missing on a Friday,” Mendez said. “She was found dead eleven days later. Karly Vickers went missing last Thursday. Let’s hope our killer sticks to a schedule.”

Vince gave him a sober look. “I wouldn’t bet a life on it.”

Mendez stared down at the decayed human finger lying in the dirt near the end of the bench on the third-base line. Flies buzzed around it and crawled on it. The thing was so rotten, the skin had split and started coming off.

He glanced sideways at Vince, who had taken a seat on the bench. They had picked up the call as soon as they made it back to the car from Crane’s office. Go to Oak Knoll Elementary immediately. It seemed like an unlikely place for crime. And the crime didn’t seem like anything to call the cops over-one kid beat up another kid in gym class.

A severed human finger, Vince conceded, made all the difference. He shook a couple of pills out of a small white bottle and tossed them back.

“You all right?” Mendez asked.

“Headache,” he said. Like someone-had-put-an-axe-through-his-head headache.

“What do you make of this?”

“Your vic’s missing an index finger. There’s an index finger. We don’t need Sherlock Holmes for this one.”

Hicks bent over the finger too. He shooed the flies off it. They were back on it in two seconds. “Man, that’s gross. The Farman kid must have picked it up at the scene Tuesday night.”

“The girl told me he touched the body,” Mendez said. “She didn’t say he broke off a finger and stuck it in his pocket.”

“Bag the finger and let’s go talk to the boy,” Vince said, pushing himself to his feet. “I can’t wait to hear what he has to say for himself.”

They convened in the conference room. Dennis was sitting in a chair, sullen, his lip split, his clothes dirty. He hadn’t spoken a word since he’d been dragged indoors by Mr. Alvarez. The gym teacher told Anne it had taken a good ten minutes for him to calm down out on the baseball diamond.

“He just kept swinging and fighting, spewing out the filthiest language I ever heard,” he said. “It was like he was possessed or something. I had all I could do to hang on to him.”

That in itself was frightening, Anne thought. Dennis was bigger than the rest of her students, but he was still a little boy. Paco Alvarez was built like a fireplug with massive arms.

“I think if I hadn’t been there to stop him, he would have killed Tommy Crane,” he whispered, glancing over at Dennis as if he were expecting him to leap over the table and charge like a wild animal.

Dennis lifted his head and glared at them, as if to say, “What are you looking at?” then looked down once more at the tabletop.

“That’s some serious rage issue,” Alvarez said. “The kid had blood in his eye, you know? Like a fighting dog.”

Anne knew nothing about fighting dogs. She was beginning to think she didn’t know much about anything. Shouldn’t she have seen warning signs in Dennis Farman? Or had the warning signs been written off to the easy excuses: Dennis is insecure, Dennis is jealous, Dennis is a garden-variety bully? Maybe there was no such thing.

“I don’t know what to say, Paco,” she said softly. “He’s got bigger problems than I’m equipped to deal with.”

The door opened and Principal Garnett came into the room with Detective Mendez and two other men-a redheaded man in his thirties with a badge clipped to his belt, and a tall man in his late forties with chiseled good looks, an air of command, and dark eyes that set their gaze squarely on her.

He broke away from the others and came toward her, holding out his hand.

“You must be Miss Navarre,” he said. His hand was big and warm, and swallowed hers whole. “I’m Detective Leone.”

Anne turned her head to introduce Alvarez, but the gym teacher had moved on to speak with Mendez. They looked as if they knew each other.

“Detective.”

“You’ve had quite a shock today,” he said, still holding her hand.

She didn’t object. He was a big man-on the lean side, but still there was a solidness about him that seemed reassuring. Like he was here to take care of everything-a quality that was very appealing to her at the moment.

“Are you all right?” he asked.

“I’m a little shaken up,” she admitted.

“Were you on the field when all this went down?”

“No,” she said, finally slipping her hand from his. “As it happened, I was in Mr. Garnett’s office, having a conversation with him about Dennis. He spent the morning drawing this.”

She angled herself so Dennis couldn’t see the notebook she had been clutching. She opened it to the page of violent drawings.

Detective Leone frowned darkly as he studied the picture. “He drew these today?”

“This morning,” she said. “He’s been agitated all day. He’s one of the children who found the body.”

“Deputy Farman’s son.”

“Yes. I suppose you know him.”

Leone hummed an acknowledgment, but his focus was entirely on the drawing.

“How old is this boy?”

“Eleven. He was held back in the third grade.”

“Has he said anything about where or how he got the finger?”

“No. He hasn’t spoken at all since Mr. Alvarez brought him in from gym class.”

“This is very disturbing,” he said softly. Finally he raised his eyes from the drawing to her face. “And it was a young lady he attacked initially this afternoon?”

“Yes. Wendy Morgan. Then Tommy Crane.”

“Has he demonstrated violence against girls before?”

“No more than the average fifth-grade boy,” she said. “At least not that I’ve been aware of. But he had quite an outburst with me this morning.”

She told him about what had happened in her classroom and what had gone on the evening before when she had stopped at the Farman home.

“I’m afraid he might be blaming me for getting him in trouble,” she said. “His parents weren’t aware he had skipped school. I think he might have gotten a spanking for it. He wouldn’t sit down all morning.”

“Could I have a photocopy of this page, Miss Navarre?” Leone asked. “A couple of them, please?”

“Yes, of course.”

“The other children who found the body are in your class as well?”

“Yes. This has been a very challenging week.”

“I’d like to sit down and talk with you about the kids,” he said. “Are you free this evening?”

“Um… uh… Yes, sure,” she said, instantly thinking that Franny would kill her. Thursday was their standing date for Chinese.

“Good. Dinner at seven? Piazza Fontana?”

“Are you asking me on a date, Detective?” she asked, a little shocked at his audacity… and a little something else.

“That would be improper of me,” he said.

But he didn’t say no.

“I’ve been away,” he said. “Just got back last night. I’d like to get a clearer picture of what happened Tuesday. Your insights would be appreciated. Your pleasant company would be a bonus,” he added.

Mendez joined them then, and Leone had her show Dennis’s drawing to him.

“Jesus Christ,” Mendez said, then caught himself. “Sorry, ma’am.”

“Has the school notified the boy’s parents about this?” Leone asked.

“Deputy Farman is on his way,” she said, wishing the principal had called Dennis’s mother instead.

Mendez spoke to Leone. “I say we ask the kid about the finger before Frank gets here. If we aren’t going to charge him with anything, we don’t need a parent present to ask him questions.”

Vince shrugged. “Your call. The Cranes might want to press assault charges.”