The Competition - [25]

Bailey pulled out the photograph of the taller shooter’s wrist.

“Do any of you recognize this?” I asked.

Each girl examined the photograph, shook her head, and passed it on.

“What is it?” Charlotte said.

“I was hoping you’d tell me,” I said. Charlotte shrugged. “I heard Otis had a friend named Jason. They did a science project together a year or so ago. Does that ring a bell?”

They frowned in unison. “Jason…the only Jason I know graduated last year,” Letha said.

But that didn’t mean he wasn’t our tall shooter. “What did he look like?”

Marnie made a face. “An Ewok. Real short and really hairy.”

So much for Jason. Or at least that Jason. Maybe there were others. “Do you happen to remember the names of the science teachers for last year-which would’ve been what, your junior year?”

“Yeah,” Charlotte said. “I had Mr. Forster.”

“Who’d you guys have?” I asked Marnie and Letha.

Letha pulled her long hair forward over her right shoulder and began to stroke it. “Marnie and I had Ms. Sherman.” Her mouth turned downward. “We got sent to the principal’s office because we wouldn’t dissect a frog-”

“How can they kill animals just so high school kids can cut them up?” Marnie said. “It was so…brutal.” She hadn’t meant it to be ironic, but it landed hard anyway. On all of them.

We wrapped it up shortly after that and walked out to Bailey’s car. I stopped at the passenger door and spoke to her over the hood. “Is Principal Campbell back in act-”

“Dale, and yes, he’s reachable.”

We got into the car and Bailey called Dale, who got us the numbers for the evil Ms. Sherman and Mr. Forster. Both answered on the first ring and offered to meet us anytime, anywhere. It was a grim upside to a case of this magnitude: no one thought they had anything more important to do. We told them for now, we only needed a few minutes on the phone.

Ms. Sherman, who sounded more like Betty Crocker than Cruella De Vil, was a model of efficiency. She kept records for the past four years on her computer.

“I didn’t have any student named Otis Barney,” she said. “I did have a Jason a couple of years ago, but I think he would have graduated by now.”

Jason the Ewok, I guessed. We thanked her and moved on to Mr. Forster.

“Otis Barney? That name sounds familiar,” he said. “Hang on, let me go get my laptop.” A few minutes later, he was back. “Let’s see, this was last year, you say?” I confirmed it. “Okay, yes, I did have Otis Barney. No Jason though.”

Damn. “Who was Otis teamed up with, then?” I asked.

“Carson. Carson James. Why?”

Bailey and I exchanged a look. Carson…Jason. Close enough. A parent could easily misremember. “Mr. Forster, would you mind if we stopped by for a few minutes?”

The science teacher lived on the outer edges of the neighborhood that fed Fairmont High, where the homes and the lots they sat on were a good deal smaller. A teacher’s pay doesn’t go far. But no worries, the universe provides balance. Britney Spears has mansions in at least three states.

When Mr. Forster opened the door I was momentarily speechless. Why do I expect teachers to be old? I guess because way back when I was a student, they all looked old to me. The fact that Mr. Forster not only looked young, but hot-in a science nerd kind of way-was upsetting for so many reasons.

He wore a gray waffle shirt and jeans. His black, curly hair was charmingly messy and complemented by heavy-framed black glasses. His welcoming smile seemed to stretch a little farther than he’d planned when he saw us. That helped assuage my “I’m so old” blues a little.

“Thank you for seeing us on such short notice, Mr. Forster,” I said.

“Uh, it’s Liam, okay? I get enough ‘Mr. Forster’ at school.” Liam ushered us into a small living room that was furnished in Early Bachelor. Ikea couch, coffee table, two chairs, a television. No flowers, no paintings, no knickknacks. There were a few framed photographs of people who looked like family on the mantel over the fireplace. “Would you like coffee or tea? It’s the extent of my culinary skills, but I do those pretty reliably.”

We declined, and Liam sat down in one of the chairs across from the couch. I started by asking him whether he’d been in the gym at the time.

He shook his head. “I stayed in the classroom so I could set up for our weather experiment.” He’d eventually heard the gunfire, but his classroom was on the second floor, at the opposite end of the hall from the library. He hadn’t seen anything.

“Can you tell us what you remember about Otis Barney?” I asked after Bailey and I had settled into the couch.

“I figured you’d ask that so I’ve been thinking about him. He was pretty quiet, intense, you know? He seemed like a sensitive kid who was trying not to be, if that makes any sense.”

It did. But it was probably true of half the school. “Was he a problem in class?”

“Not really. He was never disruptive. But there was something…anxious about him. It felt like he was trying very hard to fit in, be one of the guys. I kind of got the impression he was getting picked on.” Liam sighed. “He never told me, and I never saw anyone attack him in any way, so I couldn’t do anything about it. And maybe I’m wrong about that. It was just a feeling. But no, he never caused me any problems. Why? Are you thinking…?”