“We’re in Interview One, Chief,” the officer said in a voice that was much deeper than his small body would have suggested.
“Great, thanks, Chris,” Steve said. “I’ll be there in a minute.” When the officer was gone, Steve turned back to me. “To answer your question, we don’t know how long she was out there. That’ll be for the medical examiner to determine, too.”
“Do you think the baby is connected to the university?” I asked. “Given where she was left?”
Steve frowned and shook his head. “There’s no reason to suspect a connection to any of the students at the university.”
“Would the university tell you if there were?” I asked. “My understanding is that Campus Safety handles a lot of criminal matters on their own.”
“Not without keeping us informed, they don’t.” Steve leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms. His mouth turned down. The university question had been one step too far, though his defensive posture had done nothing to assuage my curiosity. “Now, I’m afraid we’ll have to leave it at that for the moment. I have another meeting to get to. I’ll give you an hour to get a story online before we issue an official statement. That sound fair?”
I thought about my long list of other questions, all the ones I hadn’t asked, including my zingers about resources and Steve’s experience with this kind of complex investigation. But they all seemed premature or unwisely hostile now. “Can I ask one last question?”
“Can’t promise I’ll answer it,” Steve said tiredly. “But you can ask.”
“I came across an incident in my research, a death in town years ago. It happened in virtually the same spot where the baby was found.” I looked down at my notes. “A high school student named Simon Barton?”
Steve nodded grimly. “I wouldn’t read anything into the location. That area near the Essex Bridge is secluded. Even back then, there weren’t many places in Ridgedale that out of sight. Kids have always partied back there.”
“Is that who you think left the baby? Some partying kids?”
He shook his head, frowning down at his desk. I waited for him to seem annoyed, but he looked genuinely sad. “No, ma’am. I don’t think any party anywhere ends that way. At least I sure as hell hope not.” He narrowed his eyes at me, as if appraising the kind of person who would suggest such a thing. “You’re new to town?”
I was caught off guard by his shift in focus. My throat felt suddenly dry. “Yes, my husband just got a position with the university. He’s an English professor. We moved here with our daughter at the end of August.”
“A daughter, that’s great.” Steve’s face brightened. “How old?”
“Five.” I picked up my bag from the floor as my mind tumbled forward. Was there any reason I didn’t want Steve to know these personal details? I didn’t think so, not that I had a choice anyway. “She’s in kindergarten.”
“At Ridgedale Elementary?” He smiled wider. “My son, Cole, is in kindergarten there, too.”
Cole. Which meant Barbara was his wife. I felt nervous remembering how I’d listened to Stella bad-mouth her. I’d even agreed with her.
“Actually, I think Cole’s in class with Ella,” I said, hoping I didn’t sound guilty. “I’ve met your wife, I think. Barbara?” Better to get it out on the table, hope he wouldn’t be able to tell I didn’t like her.
“Yes, well, Barbara is—” He hesitated, then nodded. “She saves my ass, is what she does. I couldn’t do what she does with the kids. No way.” He looked self-conscious. I wasn’t sure why. “Anyway, welcome to town. I’ve been here a long time, and it’s a great place to live. Despite this.” He frowned as he motioned to a folder on his desk. When he looked up, he seemed angry. “But I can assure you, we will find out what happened to this baby, Ms. Sanderson, and that person or persons will be held accountable. That I hope you do print.”
RIDGEDALE READER
ONLINE EDITION
March 17, 2015, 9:12 a.m.
Unidentified Body Discovered
BY MOLLY SANDERSON
The unidentified body of a deceased female was discovered in Ridgedale this morning shortly after 5:00. The body was spotted during a routine patrol by Campus Safety in a wooded area near the Essex Bridge.
Police remain on the scene and the investigation is ongoing. No further details are available at this time.
COMMENTS:
Samuel R.
10 min ago
“No details.” That’s it!?! A body?!! Was somebody murdered or something?
Christine
9 min ago
How can they post something like that without giving us any details? It’s obviously going to make us panic!
AYW
7 min ago
I agree. It’s tabloid journalism. Where’s the personal responsibility? Why don’t they actually get out there and try to report on something rather than dropping a bomb in the middle of our town and walking away?
Anonymous
5 min ago
Because they’re lazy a-holes, that’s why. All they want is to sell ad space. What the hell do they care what happens to the people who read their garbage? And that’s what this is: Total garbage. The whole point is to freak us out. So that we come back here and click, click, click away for more!
firstborn
3 min ago
Or, you know, maybe they printed that because that’s all they know. Not everything is some conspiracy.
Anonymous
Just now
Or maybe you’re just too dumb to realize that it is.
Barbara
Barbara knocked once, then again, on the classroom door. When there was no answer, she opened it and slid quietly inside. She was just going to drop off the curriculum materials for Rhea and then slip back out. Barbara wanted to do it now, while there was time for her to stop at the dry cleaners and get back in time for Cole’s role as butterfly in The Very Hungry Caterpillar. He was so excited about wearing the wings Barbara had made for him. So she’d leave the pages for Rhea with a Post-it: Something to consider? She didn’t want to seem confrontational. It was only an educated suggestion, not a criticism.
Because Barbara liked Rhea. She was a perfectly nice woman and clearly a committed teacher. Otherwise, Rhea never would have spent all her spare time supervising the Outreach Tutoring at the high school. A little strange, if Barbara was completely honest, that Rhea didn’t have children of her own. She was married and had to be pushing forty. But that oddity notwithstanding, Rhea was consistently kind and supportive and warm, at least according to Barbara’s seventeen-year-old daughter, Hannah, one of Outreach’s volunteer tutors.
Barbara kept smiling—a smile could head off so many misunderstandings—as she watched Rhea and the assistant teacher at the far back of the room, surrounded by the children. Rhea’s long white-blond hair swung back and forth as she explained how they could put on their own coats by placing them on the floor, putting their arms inside, and pulling them capelike over their heads. As usual, Rhea was dressed in black leggings and a snug knit top that accentuated her toned, curvy figure and very muscular thighs.
Rhea loved to exercise. And she loved to talk about it with the children—the miles logged, the races registered for. Cole had told Barbara all about it. It was cute and inspirational for the children, if a tiny bit funny to hear Cole sounding as though he were Rhea’s workout partner instead of her student.
Barbara turned back to the children, with their puffy faces and awkward bodies, wide eyes locked on Rhea as though she were performing a magic trick. Barbara felt weepy watching them. She’d been that way ever since Steve had called to tell her about that poor baby. He didn’t know much yet, only that there was a baby. A little girl. Her tiny body left out there in the woods to rot away with the mulching leaves.