Sketchy Behavior (4 page)

T
HE REST OF THE MORNING PASSED IN A BLUR OF THE
phone ringing, the doorbell chiming, Maddy’s endless questions, and Lolly’s head sogging my lap. Dad and Mom both took the day off and Dad was pacing around the house, 9mm still strapped to his waist. He’d allowed us to move to the couch in the living room, but only so he could watch the news and us at the same time.

“So, it was an
assignment
?” Dad asked again, for the fourth time that hour.

I was still watching the front of our house, now being broadcast on Fox News. “Yeah,” I said, for the fourth time.

“For drawing class,” Dad said.

“Miss Yeager wanted us to see how art as a career could work in everyday life,” I said. “I think it was the start of a series.”

“A series of criminals?”

“A series of careers.” I shook my head.

Dad grumbled something under his breath and continued to pace. Mom was now clicking around on her laptop.

“Kate, listen to this. Criminal sketch artists, or forensic sketch artists, are usually one of the top careers to have mental breakdowns and panic attacks, and of all of the careers available to an artist, they are foremost in needing psychiatric help.” She looked up at me, eyes wide. “I do not like this.”

Maddy elbowed me in my ribs. “At least you might get a discount,” she whispered.

I grinned.

Mom frowned.

Dad noticed my grin, then frowned and launched into lecture-mode. “There is nothing funny about this situation, Kate Carter,” he said sternly, one hand on his gun. “This was a dangerous, stupid move for a teacher to have a student make, and you can bet that I’m going to have a very long talk with Miss Yeager or whatever her name is.”

I opened my mouth to stick up for Miss Yeager, but the doorbell cut me off.

“Now who is it?” Dad grumbled, sneaking over to the door and peering through the peephole.

We had been instructed that under no circumstances were Maddy or I allowed to look through the curtains, answer the door, look through the peephole, or basically move off the couch unless we were otherwise ordered by Dad.

Dad squinted through the peephole and then growled. “Police guy.” He unlocked the door, opened it three inches, reached his arm through, and yanked a uniformed man through the crack before slamming the door shut and locking all the deadbolts again.

“You,” Dad barked to the poor guy, who was now trying to smooth his wrinkled and squished uniform. “Start talking.”

I still had yet to see the man’s face, but then he turned toward me and Maddy sitting on the couch and I waved. “Hi, Detective.”

Detective Masterson squinched a half-smile at me and then looked at Dad. “Do you have a permit for that weapon?” he asked.

I was pretty sure this was not the time or the place to ask that question.

Dad seemed to agree with me. He started sputtering so badly that Detective Masterson had to wipe off his cheek.

“My … my daughter is on Fox News … and you have the
audacity
to come here and …” Dad couldn’t even finish his sentence,
he was so mad. Anytime my very logical, thoughtful father used words like “audacity” and slobbered, I knew it was bad.

“Sir, I’m going to need you to calm down,” Detective Masterson said quietly, holding his hands up surrender-style.

Mom was glaring at the detective from the couch. “How do you know my daughter?” she asked icily.

Even Mom was royally ticked. By this point I was starting to realize that the parental units were not going to be cheering me on toward a career in forensic sketching.

If anything, they might be wrapping my hands in a permanent plastic wrap so I’d never be able to draw again.

Detective Masterson turned very slowly away from my dad and faced my mom. “I was present on the day that Kate drew John X.”

This did not endear him to my weaponed, spittle-encrusted father. “You encouraged this?” he demanded.

“Sir, ma’am,” the detective said, looking at both my parents. “Your daughter has supreme talent in this field and I believe that it was no accident that she was instrumental in helping us apprehend John X.”

Maddy elbowed me again when Detective Masterson said “supreme talent.”

I was suddenly very hungry for pizza.

Very hungry and very flattered. I peeked over at my dad to see how he was taking this, considering the Master Plan was for me to follow in his mathematical, engineering footsteps.

He was still sputtering.

“Now, all that being said, I do need to formally apologize for both having Kate draw John X and for the way the sketch was leaked to the press. When Kate’s art teacher came to us to have us discuss the career of criminal sketching, she and I both thought it could be beneficial for the students to attempt a sketch of a known criminal.” Detective Masterson winced. “I didn’t, however, anticipate your daughter having such a natural talent. Nor did I anticipate that the sketches would be taken off my desk and shown to
the witness who saw John X.” He nodded at me. “But it was no accident.”

Mom was still glaring at the detective. “You believe in fate,” she said.

“No, ma’am. I believe that God orchestrated this.”

Oh, now this was just getting better all the time. I felt my eyes widen. Dad tolerated Mom’s attempts to get this family to be more spiritual, but I was imagining that mixing religiosity with his daughter’s safety was not a smart move for the detective.

Even though we were faithfully in the church pew every year at Christmas thanks to my mother, who wanted us to experience a “spiritual” side of life, Dad did not go willingly. If anything, he was dragged there purely from the desire to sleep in his bed that night instead of on the couch. And Mom, who pretended to listen intently, was not that interested in Christianity.

“It’s just good to keep our names on the list,” she would tell me. “Plus, goodness knows you and your father need something to balance your logical bones.”

I doubt she’d still call me logical at this moment.

“God?” Dad gasped out the word. I was waiting for “oh, kill me now” to follow his exclamation, but the doorbell rang yet again, saving the detective from a nice verbal lashing.

Dad peered again through the peephole. “More of you,” he announced to Detective Masterson.

The detective nodded. “We are going to take Kate to the police station.”

Dad started sputtering again, and this time Mom joined him.

Detective Masterson quickly hurried up and finished his thought. “We need to question her, and we also want to be mindful of her safety right now. As well as all of your safety.” He looked at Maddy.

Maddy leaned back against the couch. “I wonder if I’ll still have to take that geography exam,” she said quietly.

“We will be certain to arrange things with the school,” the detective said, obviously overhearing Maddy.

“Absolutely not,” Dad finally got out.

“But Mr. Carter, my geography exam counts for a third of my final grade,” Maddy protested.

Dad didn’t even spare her a glance. “We are not going down to the police station.”

“Sir,” Detective Masterson said.

“Dad,” I said.

“Dale,” Mom said.

“You already had my daughter draw a murderer. What could you possibly need her to do now? Draw a gang leader? A drug lord? The guy who piloted the plane in
Con Air
?” Dad was ranting now.

And Dad didn’t even like that movie. He said that no guy with Nicolas Cage’s hairstyle would have ever ended up with a woman who looked like his wife.

I have to admit, I had to agree. And Mom just told us to hush because she had a thing for Nicolas Cage — scraggly, long hair or not.

Maddy elbowed me yet again. “What is
Con Air
?” she whispered.

“Sir, this really is the best option,” the detective said calmly. The doorbell rang again. “Actually, it’s the only option. Our primary responsibility now is to keep you and your family safe. And we only want to question Kate, not hire her.” When Dad didn’t budge, Detective Masterson nodded. “You really have no other choice, sir.”

“Dale,” Mom said. “We need to go.”

Dad shook his head and walked down the hallway. We all just looked at each other for the next thirty seconds. Was he on his way to get the rest of his arsenal? Was he calling Pete What’s-His-Name?

Dad came back with a coat a minute later. “Kate, what are you doing?” he barked. “Get your coat and shoes. We’re going with Detective Masterson or whatever he calls himself.”

I ran down the hall to my room and found my Chuck Taylors. I glanced in the mirror as I was about to leave. I never thought I’d
be on TV, and I especially never thought I’d be on TV while wearing my least attractive pair of jeans. They were ripped on the right knee and shredded around the hemlines because I’m short and most of my pants aren’t.

I shrugged and grabbed my favorite red hoodie jacket.

Maddy was waiting with my parents and Detective Masterson by the front door. She was still wearing her backpack and a wide-eyed expression.

“We are going to be on TV!” she hissed in my ear when I joined them.

“I know,” I whispered back.

“I didn’t curl my hair very well today,” she moaned.

“Okay,” the detective said. “Here’s what will happen. We will surround you and try to get you into the police vehicles with minimum amount of camera exposure. So stay together, and stay close to us.”

He opened the door and nodded to a bunch of uniformed guys on my front porch.

Immediately, we were all surrounded and shoved en masse toward a couple of police cars parked right smack in the middle of my father’s front lawn. Yet another occurrence that had him bristling.

Mom and Dad were stuck in the back of one police car, and Maddy and I were put into the other one. Meanwhile, there were cameras and flashes and microphones and people screaming, “Kate! Kate! How did you know what John X looked like? What is it like being the town heroine? Kate!”

I didn’t get a chance to even answer them because the door was slammed the second my feet were out of the way.

D
ETECTIVE MASTERSON RODE IN THE PASSENGER SEAT
and another policeman drove.

“Girls, this is Officer Walker,” he said.

“I guess that’s fitting,” Maddy whispered to me as we drove off the curb, leaving some nice tire marks there for my dad to stress over. “You know, the whole Walker name and him being a ranger and all.”

“But he’s an officer,” I said. “And I’m pretty sure he’s not from Texas.”

“Yeah, but he’s still into the whole keeping-the-law, protecting-people bit. You never know, maybe that guy has almost been run over by an unmanned plane before.”

“Walker was almost run over by an unmanned plane?” I asked.

She shrugged. “I don’t know. I usually watch E!”

The police station was only three miles from my house, so it didn’t take too long to get there. There were reporters there too, though, so once again we got surrounded and hustled inside while people were yelling at me and waving cameras in my face.

Once we got inside, there was a huge room, filled with tons of cubicles.

I’d never been to prison, but I kind of imagined it would look more like Alcatraz than the set from
The Office
.

Mom and Dad joined us in the entrance of the big room, and
Detective Masterson waved for us to follow him down one of the outside aisles and into a small room that was off to the side.

There was a table, six chairs, and a pitcher of water in there.

“Wow, is this where you interrogate criminals?” Maddy asked the detective, her voice all hushed for the souls gone before us.

“We have concentrated staff meetings here,” Detective Masterson said, nodding to the chairs.

I guess there was no need for the hushed voice.

Right then a tall, heavy, older-looking guy wearing a business suit walked in and closed the door behind him.

“Please, have a seat,” he told us and we all sat. Mom and Dad sat on either side of me, and Maddy and Detective Masterson sat next to the older guy across the table from us.

“I’m Gene Slalom, the deputy chief of police here in South Woodhaven Falls,” he said, all deep and booming voiced. He didn’t sound at all like I thought deputies sounded. But maybe that was because my entire basis for deputies was founded on Barney Fife from
The Andy Griffith Show
.

We all nodded.

“That’s Kate,” Detective Masterson said, pointing to me.

“Ah.” Deputy Slalom said, looking at me without smiling. “Hello, Kate.”

“Hello, Deputy Slalom.”

Awkward silence. I almost wanted to ask if he skied or not, considering his name, but I held my tongue. They brought me here, they can talk.

“Nice conference room,” Maddy said.

Or Maddy could talk.

“Thank you.” Deputy Slalom nodded at Maddy. “We recently updated the paint. It used to have wallpaper.”

I looked over at the neutral tan color while Maddy smiled. “Good choice. Wallpaper is very out of style.”

She would know.

He nodded again and looked away from Maddy. “Kate, Mr.
and Mrs. Carter, we brought you here because Kate has done her city, her state, and her country a service that can never be repaid.”

“What kind of danger is my daughter in?” Dad asked.

“Do you have any idea what this type of situation will do to a young girl’s psyche?” Mom said at the same time.

Deputy Slalom held up both of his hands. “Trust me, we will get to all of your questions.” He leaned across the table and looked at me. “But first, Kate Carter, I wanted to extend a hand of thanks.”

He reached across the table to shake my hand, and I have to admit, I’ve never been given a hand of thanks before.

“Thanks,” I said.

“No. Thank you.”

“Oh. Well. You’re welcome.”

Handshake dispensed with, he turned to my parents. “Okay. Danger. Kate is in a significant amount of danger. John X was not believed to have any accomplices, but then we won’t know for sure until we are able to extensively question him, and we have been unable to do so for the past twelve hours.”

Dad glared at Detective Masterson.

“That being said, we will have around-the-clock protection for Kate. She will take one of my officers to school with her and we will also have at least one, if not two, officers in your home night and day.”

“Two,” Dad said. “I don’t want even the chance of something happening.”

“Understandable, sir. And while this is a regrettable situation to be in, it is also one that will bring a tremendous amount of relief to many people in this state, you do realize. Your daughter is a hero.”

“Heroine,” Maddy corrected.

“What about
her
mental state?” Mom asked. “You do realize how much stress this puts her under, don’t you?”

It is definitely a huge pet peeve of mine when people talk about me in front of me like I’m not even there.

“We do realize,” the deputy said. “And we have a staff psychiatrist that has supervised many a witness case and will be working with Kate as well.”

I raised my hand. “But I can still go to school?” We were covering how to multiply and divide fractions in algebra. And knowing my dad’s teaching skills, I’d rather learn from my algebra teacher than Dad.

“Yes, you can still go to school.” He raised a hand to cut off my parents’ immediate rebuttal. “Accompanied by an officer, of course.”

A lady knocked on the door and then opened it, sticking her head in. “Sorry to interrupt, sir, but the mayor is here and wants to meet Kate.”

Deputy Slalom winced slightly and then nodded. “Send him in.”

A minute later, in walked Arnold Walinski, who was arguably the biggest schmoozer you could ever meet. I was pretty sure he prided himself on having the most handshakes of any mayor in Missouri — and coming from such a small town, that said a lot.

“Kate Carter,” he said warmly to Maddy.

She pointed to me and Arnold didn’t even skip a beat. “So nice to meet the girl who saved our town from disaster!”

And here I thought that disasters were typically made up of those mudslides that our gym teacher liked to tell us about.

“Hi, Mayor,” I said, shaking his outstretched hand. “I don’t think I saved our town from anything. Was John X even around South Woodhaven Falls?”

Detective Masterson shook his head. “Ballwin,” he said, naming one of the neighboring suburbs.

“Regardless,” Arnold said. “Kate, it would be my honor and privilege to have you and your family join me and my wife for dinner at the mayor’s house Saturday night.” He was grinning in a way that I thought was supposed to be welcoming, but it ended up just looking toothy and cheesy.

And I was now going to refer to my house as “the Carter’s house.”

“Um,” I said, looking at Mom.

She shrugged. “Sure,” she said after looking over her shoulder at Dad, who nodded rather stiffly. Dad was not one for hobnobbing with politicians. He said they got annoying and that while most of them could talk circles around a band of turkeys, they couldn’t hold one straightforward conversation to save their lives.

I wasn’t sure that turkeys ran together in bands, but whatever.

“Fabulous, fabulous!” Arnold started crooning. “I’ll not interrupt your conversation with these fine gentlemen any longer. See you this weekend, Kate and family.”

He left whistling.

Deputy Slalom waited until the door was closed and latched before he started up again. “Where was I? Oh yes. School.” He nodded to me. “You will take an officer to school with you tomorrow.”

“Are you sure it’s safe for her to be returning to school so soon?” Mom asked.

“She’ll be fine with Officer Kirkpatrick.” The deputy nodded to Detective Masterson. “And if the need comes up, I can send Detective Masterson as well, just to monitor the situation.”

Judging by the slight redness to his cheeks, I was thinking that Miss Yeager was contributing more toward the detective’s presence at school than my imminent danger.

“I … I guess if you think it’s safe …” Mom stumbled.

Dad was resorting to silence. Meaning he didn’t agree.

“Wonderful,” Deputy Slalom said. “Now, if you and Maddy could wait outside, we have some questions we need to ask Kate alone. Margo out there can get you some refreshments.”

My parents got up and left, looking sadly at me as they walked out the door. Maddy whispered, “Remember everything!” and then followed them out.

And then it was just me with the two policemen.

“Kate,” Deputy Slalom started. He had his hands woven together and sitting on the table. Detective Masterson looked more at ease, lounging back in his chair.

“Yes?”

“Kent here has told me that you are a remarkable artist,” Deputy Slalom said, angling his head toward the detective.

Kent
. Awkward name, no offense to the detective.

I shrugged. I don’t take compliments well. Mom said that’s a reflection of a lack of self-confidence and one of the top three signs of a loner, but I said it’s just because I don’t get them too frequently. Practice makes perfect. I’m barely over five feet tall. There’s not much here to compliment.

Which is when Dad told me that I had nice earlobes.

“I have to admit, when Miss Yeager came to us and asked if we could help explain the forensic sketch artist career field to a bunch of high schoolers, I was less than enthusiastic,” Deputy Slalom said. “I guess we can see who was wrong. Anyway, I have something I want to ask you, but I don’t want an answer today. Actually, I don’t want an answer until all this insanity with John X is over and done with.”

I was trying not to cringe in my chair, waiting for the word
babysitter
. I wasn’t sure what it was with adults, but I tend to attract potential babysitting jobs like Lindsay Lohan attracts miniskirts.

I was not a babysitter. I didn’t like kids. I did not like the way they smelled or the way they had some weird fascination with Dora. Any show that makes little kids think it’s perfectly normal to talk to and interact with a television set was breeding future clients for my mother, if you ask me.

I waited for Deputy Slalom to finish his thought.

He leaned across the desk. “Kate, you are a very nonthreatening person.”

“Please don’t tell my father that.” He would send me back to that self-defense class again.

“You’re very nice, you seem to listen before you speak,” the deputy continued. “And I already mentioned the artistic talent.”

Maybe he wanted me to draw pictures of his kids.

“Kate, I’d like you to consider joining the police force as a junior member.”

I just blinked at him.

“I really feel like we need a female forensic sketch artist and witnesses need someone who is nonthreatening to talk to, especially women and children.”

I opened my mouth to protest, and he held up his hand.

“I told you to think on it, Kate. It’s just a thought. Though, I think it’s a good thought, and Kent here agrees with me.”

I did not know why hearing the word
Kent
kept throwing me off.

The deputy smiled very briefly and very tiredly at me. “Thanks again, Kate.”

I nodded.

We all stood, and Detective Masterson opened the door for us. Outside, there was a redheaded police officer talking with my parents.

“This is Officer Kirkpatrick,” the deputy said. “Get used to him, he’ll be around.”

“Hello, Kate,” the officer said. He couldn’t have been more than about twenty-five, and he was tall and kind of on the skinny side.

He didn’t look very menacing. I think my dad was thinking the same thing as he sized him up.

“Hi,” I said. “So you are following me around now.”

He did one of those little smiles that was half friendly, half pained. I guess I couldn’t blame him, considering it did mean going back to high school for him.

“We’ll take you guys back home. If anyone requests an interview, please refuse it for the time being. And Kate, you will probably receive a lot of offers for various things … just turn them all down,” Detective Masterson said. “Shall we?” He motioned to the door.

We got back home and it was just me, Mom, Dad, Maddy, Lolly, and Officer Kirkpatrick.

And it was silent.

Mom looked exhausted and went into the kitchen. I could sense a vanilla-laced bath in her near future. Dad was still strapped to his gun and followed Mom into the kitchen. Maddy sat on the couch and reached for the remote.

Officer Kirkpatrick stood in the doorway, pensively. And I had to wonder how much of the pensiveness was because Lolly wouldn’t stop smelling the guy.

“Lolly. Cut it out,” I said, patting my leg.

She didn’t cut it out.

“Lolly.”

Maddy whistled, not taking her eyes off the TV. “Lolly, cheese!” she yelled.

Lolly immediately bolted toward Maddy on the couch.

“Good girl, good girl,” Maddy crooned to her.

“Where’s the cheese?” I asked. “You can’t promise something and not give it to her then. Now she won’t come the next time.”

Lolly, depressed because of the lack of cheese, slumped in front of the couch in a dog heap.

“Hey, Officer Kirkpatrick,” Maddy said, ignoring me, angling her head toward him, but waiting for the story about some star’s new love interest to end before she moved her eyes.

“Yes, Madison?”

“What’s your first name?”

Officer Kirkpatrick squinted at her. “Darrell.”

Now I looked at him. I was not sure how a couple could look at a scrawny little redheaded baby and name him Darrell. Judging from Maddy’s expression, she agreed.

“Your name is really Darrell?” I asked.

“It’s a family name. My great-uncle’s name is Darrell.”

“Well, my great-aunt’s name is Olga and my parents were kind enough to forgo family tradition,” Maddy said, going back to Ryan Seacrest’s rundown of all the top “news.”

Seriously, since when did seeing Sienna Miller sans makeup on her way to the gym become news?

Darrell Kirkpatrick shrugged at me. “He didn’t have any kids, and my dad was always pretty attached to him.”

I asked, “So you go by Darrell?”

“I go by DJ. My middle name is Jefferson.”