The Homecoming (Thunder Point #6)(66)

It’s him! Iris thought.

Of course it was him! The most popular boy in school. Maybe the best-looking boy, a powerful football player. Rachel was about five-two to his six feet, one hundred and ten pounds to his one-ninety.

She could feel the blood drain from her face and her heart hammered in her chest. Why had she not thought of the boyfriend? It’s so often the boyfriend, but she hadn’t even suspected. Every time she saw them together, he seemed to be fawning over her protectively, romantically.

Besides, this was a school district very sensitive to bullying issues, especially since they’d had a bully a couple of years ago. That bully was so well-known and vicious he’d not only picked on every boy younger and smaller, but at the end of the day it had become obvious the kid had abused his parents and had even been accused of killing a man he’d been in conflict with. He’d been charged with manslaughter rather than murder, but it all stemmed from the same issues of dominance and abuse.

Iris worked closely with Coach Lawson and he had a sharp eye turned toward his football players and their behavior, on and off the field. Brett Davis had a sterling reputation as a leader, a good kid.

But, of course, boys could be charming and lovable boyfriends, until angry about some perceived infraction on the girl’s part and then turn livid and brutal. And the frightened girl didn’t want to do or say anything to piss him off. This behavior was common among young men who grew up watching their fathers abuse their mothers while managing to maintain solid relationships with other men.

There had been so many other logical suspects around her—a part-time father, a big and combative younger brother, a single mother no doubt stressed by everything, an aunt and an uncle who were giving shelter to an entire family.

An abusive boyfriend. How had she ignored that possibility—it was so often the case. High school boys were generally immature, possessive, egotistical, had short fuses and felt so bulletproof.

She didn’t know what to do even though she knew what she had to do. She was obligated to report her suspicions. But she’d never been down this road before. She locked her office door and walked quickly to the other side of the building, rapping impatiently on Troy’s first-period classroom door. When he opened the door he was obviously stricken by the look on her face because he quickly asked, “What, Iris?” in a panicked whisper.

“It’s him,” she whispered back. “It’s her boyfriend! Brett Davis! The big man on campus.”

“You’re sure?” Troy asked.

“I saw him grab her and shake her. He was furious about something and she was completely passive. How could I miss that? How could we all miss it?”

Troy pulled the door to his class closed behind him. “Damn it,” he said. “This is going to be ugly. I’ll back you up. Do what you have to do.”

She shook her head. “Whatever I do, I better be right. This can be a deadly game. That poor girl, she must be so confused. She must be terrified of him.”

“Aw, Jesus,” he said. “You should talk to Seth, too. Make sure he knows what’s going on. The girl has already had a concussion.”

“Oh, Troy,” she said, almost in tears. “How did no one know?”

He frowned. “I bet a lot of people know. I bet the kids know. Cammie knows. You know how these kids can close ranks. He has a lot of popular power.” He put a hand on her shoulder. “Go do it, report it. You can explain I brought the suspicion to you and you looked into it. You’re not completely alone in this.”

“Thanks, but I can’t be worried about that. I’m a big girl. It’s Rachel who’s in trouble.”

* * *

Before making the call she had to make, she went to Phil Sanderson’s office. In the chain of command, he was next. She could have gone straight to the principal, it would have been appropriate, but Phil, as vice principal, handled most of the student behavior problems.

And of course Phil was busy. Too busy. A million things on his desk, every last one of them urgent. “Well, I’m going to have to place a call to DHS to report suspected abuse, so when do you think you can fit me in?” she asked.

“Now,” he said. He ejected a couple of supervisors from his office and got behind his desk. “I hope to God this is a waste of time,” he said.

“I’m afraid not. Believe me, I’d like that as much as you, but I was not looking for a reason to call DHS. In fact, I feel forced into it.”

“Give it to me straight.”

So she did. She didn’t name Troy, even though he had invited her to do so. “A teacher brought the suspicions to my attention and I took the appropriate action—I looked into it and sought the assistance of the girl’s athletic director. She’s in a position to see the girls when they’re dressed out for gym or for practice. She not only sees more skin when they’re wearing their PE uniforms, she also sees them in comparison to each other and whether one of them seems to have an unusually large number of visible injuries.”

Iris described the suspicious injuries, her conversations with Cammie and Rachel and, finally, the hostility between Brett and Rachel. Phil listened, occasionally shaking his head.

When she was finished he said, “Fuck.”

She cleared her throat. “That’s four hours of detention, Phil.”

“Right now I’d like to take it right up to twelve. So, you report. What next?”