“Then…what’s your theory?” I asked.
“Just between us, understood?” We nodded. “I need to check lividity, get a better look at the wounds, get the gunshot residue test results, and obviously the luminal results on the carpet. But if that all pans out as I expect, my conclusion will be that a person or persons shot these kids, dragged their bodies into position, and staged it to look like a mutual suicide.”
“Then if you’re right, those bodies in the library-” Bailey said.
“Are not the killers,” I finished.
Dr. Shoe looked up in the direction of the library. “They most certainly are not,” he said.
6
His words hit me like a sucker punch to the gut. The killers were still at large. I could feel my breath getting shorter as the implications sank in.
“Thank you, Dr. Shoe,” I said. “And you’re right. We need to keep this theory quiet until we’re absolutely sure. So watch out for those parabolic mics…” I shifted my eyes to the throng of reporters in front of the school. Backup in the form of a flotilla of satellite trucks had now arrived to clog the street. “The sooner we can get final confirmation from you, the better.”
“Obviously. But I won’t be able to do that until I get the bodies on the table, and I’d like to let the crime scene tech do his work before I move them-”
“Her work,” Bailey said, reading her cell phone. “It’s Dorian Struck.”
For the first time, I saw Dr. Shoe smile. “Excellent.”
What’d I say about the perfect match? The doctor strode off to finish his work in the library.
“The killers wore masks-” Bailey said.
“Why bother to hide your face if you’re planning to off yourself?”
Bailey nodded and stood up. “It all fits with Shoe’s theory. The principal is cuing up the surveillance footage for us. He’s got to have it ready by now.”
“Did he say what areas it covered?”
“Front entrance, back doors, cafeteria, the door to the gym, and one upstairs. He wasn’t sure what that one covered.”
“There were no surveillance cameras inside the gym?”
“No.”
It figured. We headed back to the main entrance and found Principal Campbell downstairs standing just inside the doors. His hands were clasped together so tightly I could see the whites of his knuckles from twenty paces. When Bailey asked if he was able to answer some questions, he nodded eagerly, but his ashen color worried me. He looked like a heart attack waiting to happen. Bailey started by asking how many shooters he saw. Now that the murder-suicide theory was effectively nixed, we couldn’t assume anything we’d heard was accurate; every detail had to be reexamined. Principal Campbell believed there were two shooters, but he couldn’t swear to it.
“I was sitting near the door of the gym when the shooting started, so I couldn’t see that much,” he said. “But as soon as I realized what was happening, I led as many students as I could out through the side door next to the cafeteria. It’s the closest exit to the street.”
His breathing quickened; I could practically see his blood pressure rise as he relived the horror of it. He was stuck in the memory and couldn’t get out. Eyes wet, he stammered, “I-I should’ve gone back in sooner. And Angela…my God, if it hadn’t been for her…covering them with her body…she was so brave-” He broke off and blinked back tears. “I-I don’t think she made it. Do you know?”
“I can check,” I said. “But Angela who?”
“The girls’ soccer coach. I heard she was pushing a bunch of kids out of the gym, but I haven’t seen her…”
I shook my head. “It’ll be a while before we know the status of everyone who was wounded, Mr. Campbell-”
“Dale. It’s Dale-”
“Dale. It’s over now. You did all you could. It’s time to take care of yourself. Have you been checked out by the EMTs yet?”
“I…uh-” His gaze dulled. “D-don’t worry about me, I’m fine. I’m okay.”
Obviously, appealing to his sense of self-preservation wasn’t going to cut it. “Look, the only thing we need from you right now is to show us how to view the surveillance footage. We’ll come back to you soon. And when we do, we’ll need you to be in shape because it’s going to be a detailed interview. If you land in the hospital, you’ll slow down the investigation. You wouldn’t want to do that, right?”
He nodded slowly.
“So you need to stay healthy for everyone’s sake. Let the paramedics give you a once-over, okay?”
He didn’t like the idea, but he finally capitulated. He took us to the room where the video monitor for the surveillance footage was kept, showed us how to scan the footage, and left.
“Let’s start with the cameras closest to the gym doors,” Bailey said.
Black-and-white images of the hallway just outside the gym doors jerked across the monitor. A woman holding a clipboard to her chest came into view. Her heels snicked loudly on the linoleum floor as she passed under the camera, then faded as she moved away. For another few seconds the screen showed an empty hallway, and I heard faint echoes of a voice speaking into a microphone-Principal Campbell, probably-then cheering, like waves breaking on a distant shore. It was another few seconds before I heard the screaming. At first, it sounded like any ordinary crowd watching a basketball game. Then I heard the flat crack of gunshots-faint at first, but growing louder as the killers moved down the bleachers. A few moments later, the screen filled with the images of bodies desperately clawing their way out through the gym doors, climbing over each other as they struggled to make it through the clogged exit. In the background, the sounds of gunfire, continuous, relentless, grew louder. Finally, the gunmen came into view.
The balaclavas and camouflage jackets covered them so completely I could only get a general idea of height and weight. One was taller than the other and looked to be around six feet. They both carried assault rifles and wore gloves. I saw the shorter one take aim at a person who, with outstretched arms, was trying to shield a group of students. Most likely Angela, the coach we’d just heard about from Principal Campbell. The killer fired. He threw back his head. Was he laughing? Jesus.
The taller one took aim at someone on the ground, then held his weapon up in front of his face and shook it. He smacked it with his palm once, twice, then dropped it to the ground. As he moved away, I saw him reach inside his jacket and pull out a handgun. By that time the shorter gunman had already moved out of camera range, but I could hear the crack-crack-crack that told me he was firing continuously.
Eventually, the sounds of gunshots and screaming faded into the background, leaving only the shrill clanging of the fire alarm. The screen showed an empty doorway and three inert forms sprawled on the floor.
Bailey started the next tape. “This is the one upstairs. I’m not sure it has anything for us.”
It didn’t. The shriek of the fire alarm echoed down empty hallways, though I could hear screams and gunshots in the distance that had to be coming from the stairway or the library.
“And this will be the cafeteria exit,” Bailey said.
The monitor showed Principal Campbell holding the door as panicked students tumbled and staggered out. He faced the inside of the school as they ran, looking over their heads. “He’s acting as the lookout. But what was he going to do if the killers showed up? Throw a lunch tray at them?”
“My guess? Take the bullet.”
Angela, the principal…and probably many more had shown such bravery and selflessness in the face of such vicious, gratuitous violence. It struck me that the alpha and omega of human existence had crashed into each other here in this suburban high school.