Off the Deep End (72)
“Mom? Dad? I can’t get a hold of anyone.” Katie burst into tears as she stared at her phone, willing a notification and holding it toward us like we could make something happen. We wrapped her in a huge bear hug between us. “What if Paloma’s hurt? What if it’s—”
“Shhh, shhh,” Mark interrupted her. “It’s okay. Don’t let your mind go there. We don’t know anything yet. They haven’t said anything.”
“Why won’t God just leave us alone?” she wailed. “Seriously, what did we do?” She buried her face in Mark’s sweatshirt.
Mark and I eyed each other over the top of her head. We had the same questions. There were no answers. Suddenly, the sound of Paloma’s ringtone played. Katie shoved us off her.
“Oh my God! It’s her!” she squealed, jumping up and down while she waved her phone around in the air.
“Answer it!” Mark and I said on top of each other.
She let out a laugh and accepted the call. “Oh my God, Paloma, are you okay?” Bits and pieces of Paloma’s excited voice came out. We couldn’t make out what she was saying because she was talking so fast, but the look of pure relief and joy on Katie’s face told us she was okay. Katie pulled the phone away from her and turned to us. I’m going upstairs, she mouthed. Mark and I gave her matching thumbs-ups.
His stomach had to be as twisted and sick as mine. As if on cue, he excused himself to go to the bathroom. The news played the same clips over and over again while we waited for new information to come in. Nothing had changed by the time Mark came out of the bathroom.
Most of the investigative team were still standing at attention, circled around the screen. A few of them had gone back into the kitchen and pulled it up on their monitors to continue watching it from there.
The cameras cut to the school again as more students in a single-file line flocked out of the building with their hands on top of their heads while they tried not to run. They were flanked by an officer on each side dressed in full tactical gear. It was an all-too-familiar sight, but I’d never recognized the faces. This time I did as Jessica Lowry was hurried along by Billie Rae, and the next scene panned over to Louisa Copeland with her head buried in her hands.
It was so hard to watch, but I couldn’t pull myself away. Neither could Mark. He gripped my hand.
When the coverage cut to the reporter, Sam had a student with him. I recognized the student from Isaac’s basketball team. Nathan Bradford. He was one of the starting five. One of Gabe’s closest friends. He’d poured orange juice on the crotch of Isaac’s PE shorts in fourth grade. I dug my nails into Mark’s hand. I could barely breathe as Nathan started speaking.
“We were on our way in to practice when all of a sudden we just heard this loud explosion. Not like a firecracker. More like a car. You know that sound it makes when it backfires? That’s what it was like. Just POW”—he makes the loud sound—“and then wham: Charlie goes flying backward. Just crashes into the lockers behind him. We just started running; everyone was screaming.”
“What happened to Charlie?”
“I don’t know, man. I just seen his head smash against that locker and blood went flying everywhere. Somebody grabbed him, I think. But man, I don’t know. I actually don’t know.” His eyes were wild. His breathing ragged and hurried.
Sam put his arm around his shoulders and held the microphone with the other, trying to calm him down because he looked like he was on the verge of hyperventilating. “It’s okay. It’s okay. You’ve been through something awful.”
“I just ran. I just ran.” His entire body shook.
“Did you see anything? Anyone? We heard reports that there were multiple shots fired.”
“He definitely had a gun. I heard it.”
“Do you know how many shots he fired?”
“I don’t.” Nathan’s face crumpled like he was upset he couldn’t give him any more information.
“Can you tell us anything about the shooter?”
He shook his head. “I didn’t see him, but lots of other people said they did.”
“And what did they say?” Sam quickly turned to look at the camera. “Remember, everyone, none of this is confirmed. We’re here with Nathan Bradford at Falcon Lake High School, where there has been an explosion outside of the gym, and we have reports of multiple shots fired. I’m going to go back to Nathan.” He shifts his gaze back to Nathan. The camera follows. “Can you tell us anything else about the shooter?”
“Like I said, I didn’t see him, and he was wearing a ski mask, but other people did. They recognized him.” He dropped his voice low. “They said it’s Isaac Greer.”
CASE #72946
PATIENT: JULIET (JULES) HART
“You can get that, you know,” I say, pointing underneath the table at Dr. Stephens’s pants. His phone has been vibrating in his pocket for the past ten minutes. I hate when people do that. He either needs to turn it off or take care of it.
“I’m so sorry. I hate that our time is being interrupted like this, but maybe I should look,” he says, giving me an apologetic shrug.
“Might be a good idea. Seems like it’s important if they’re trying that hard to get a hold of you.” I do my best not to look annoyed.