The Suicide Club (22 page)

They were back where they’d begun. While the suicides had made him more convinced of the connection, they’d made it harder for Lindsey to accept it. Because that meant she was right in the middle of it all. And, just as he’d thought about Harrison, who could blame her for wanting to deny that role?

L
indsey had known Shannon would take the news of Tim’s death hard, but she’d also known she should be the one to break it to her. She hadn’t wanted her friend to hear it from someone who would have even less real information than she did.

“Oh, God. Oh, my God. Why?”

“Nobody knows.”

She tried to reach out and hug her friend, but Shannon backed away to lean against the kitchen counter. Arms crossed over her stomach, she hunched forward as if she were in pain.

Lindsey withdrew, giving her the space she seemed to need right now. “Jace sent someone from the sheriff’s department to notify Walt. He was going over himself as soon as he finished at the school. Maybe…”

Shannon looked up to ask, “He thinks Walt can tell them something that will explain why?”

“Jace asked me if there had been a history of depression.”

“LikeAndrea? Another one we let fall through the cracks?”

Lindsey ignored the bitter comment. “Did Walt ever talk to you about Tim? Say that he was worried about him? Say
anything
that would lead you to think something like this was even a remote possibility?”

Shannon shook her head. “We talked about colleges. He wanted me to help them find money for that. Scholarships. Financial aid. Anything. I promised to start that process in the spring. Walt thought Tim should be able to get a band scholarship. Maybe with a combination of that and something academic…I swear, Linds, he never mentioned being concerned about anything else.”

“He was concerned enough that he waited to drive him home the day after Andrea died.”

“I got the impression he just wanted to be with him. To talk. To let Tim talk. I think most parents felt the same way that day. They just wanted to know their own child was okay.”

“So you didn’t take that as Walt being worried that Tim might…”

“Hang himself?” Shannon’s laugh was mocking. “I think if he’d
really
been worried about the possibility of suicide, he wouldn’t have let him out of his sight. And he did. I don’t believe Walt expected this. Any more than the rest of us.”

“If we didn’t, we sure gave lip service to it.”

“That Tim might commit suicide?”

“That there might be copycats. That’s why the county sent out the grief counselors. That’s why the two of us decided it would be a good idea for you to talk to my classes after the funeral.”

Except Shannon hadn’t talked to them. Not after second period. And not to Tim’s class. Lindsey had done that herself, obviously as poorly as she’d dealt with Andrea that afternoon.

“You think that’s what this is?” Shannon asked. “You think Tim thought this was a way to get attention? Did he strike you as being that needy? He had a father who loved him. And a lot of friends. Tim wasn’t Andrea. He wasn’t anything like her.”

“I don’t pretend to know what he was thinking. I’m beginning to believe we don’t have any idea what
any
of them are thinking. All I know is that he’s dead. By his own hand. And that he’s the second one of my students who is.”

“It could have been any of them. Any kid in the school.”

“But it wasn’t. It was another of mine. Jace is convinced this is all connected. That it started with the church fires.”

“He can’t think Tim had anything to do with those. You knew that boy. You
know
he wasn’t involved in anything like that.”

“Then maybe just connected to me. To what’s been happening since Jace made a point of singling me out.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Somebody left a note in my box this afternoon. I thought it was from Walt. It was block printed, and Jay had told me he’d been looking for me. I thought maybe he wanted to talk about the conversation I overheard.”

“
What
conversation?”

“Last Friday night. When I went to ask Dave’s permission for the ceremony at halftime, he and Walt were in Coach’s office in the field house. Walt told Dave that the rumors were out there and that nothing could be kept secret in this town.”

“What kind of rumors?”

“At the time I thought he was talking about Andrea. The rumors Walt had told us about in the lounge. I told Jace what he’d said, and he asked him. Walt said they were talking about some boosters, but that wasn’t what I heard. I know it wasn’t.”

“Okay, maybe I’m slow, but I don’t get what any of this has to do with Tim. Or how he’s connected to Andrea.”

“Maybe they aren’t, but when I saw the note, that’s what I thought Walt wanted to talk to me about. That conversation.”

“You check to see if Tim has a profile on ‘My Place’?’”

“What?”

“A page like Andrea’s. Something out of character.”

“I came straight here to tell you. I didn’t want you to hear about Tim from somebody else.”

“Then let’s go see.” Without waiting for a response, Shannon turned and headed to the back of the apartment where her computer was set up in a corner of her bedroom.

“Jace says Andrea’s page wasn’t done on her computer. Do you think—?” Lindsey realized she was talking to herself.

When she reached the bedroom, Shannon was already seated in front of her computer, typing in an address. Looking over her shoulder, Lindsey watched as she navigated the popular site with a skill that bespoke familiarity.

“There,” Shannon said as the image of a smiling Tim, looking normal and completely happy filled the screen.

It was last year’s yearbook picture. Lindsey had seen it a dozen times as she’d thumbed through the pages. He seemed ridiculously young. Innocent. Filled with potential.

All of it now lost. All gone.

They read together in silence. Lindsey wasn’t sure what Shannon had been searching for when she’d pulled this up, but there was nothing here that reminded her of the travesty Andrea’s profile had made of her life.

This was exactly what she’d thought at first glance. Normal. A portrait of an ordinary, small-town teen.

There were pictures of band practice. Posed shots of laughing friends. Scenes from the beach with the same kids. Family photos. Even the visitors’ entries were appropriate for a sixteen-year-old’s site. Nothing to raise any alarms.

“Walt probably had his password,” Shannon said. “Maybe even parental control. There’s nothing here.”

“Did you expect there to be?”

“You said Jace thought they were connected.”

She hadn’t really meant Andrea and Tim were connected. She had been thinking of each of them being separately connected to the fires. Or to the things that had happened to her. But the two of them were connected in one undeniable way.

“Because they took their own lives,” she said aloud.

“Is that what he meant?”

“I don’t think so, but it’s true.”

Shannon turned, looking over her shoulder. “And he thinks the reason they did that is the connection.”

It wasn’t a question. As Shannon said the words, Lindsey knew she was right. She couldn’t have articulated why, but it resonated with the ring of absolute truth.

“Because they knew something?” she suggested.

“About the fires?”

“Jace keeps saying that to me. That I know something they’re afraid of.”

“So…what would those two kids know that would make them kill themselves?”

They had discarded the possibility either of them could have been involved with the arson. It was so out of character that neither she nor Shannon could fathom that. Which left—

“Maybe they didn’t,” Lindsey said softly.

The words hung in the air between them a long time, neither willing to take the next step. Because that, too, was something neither could fathom.

“Does that mean what I think?” Shannon asked finally.

“I don’t know. Maybe suicide was a possibility with Andrea. She had a history that would make it seem…possible. But
Tim?
It doesn’t make sense. You said so yourself.”

“That’s quite a leap, Linds. I’d think long and hard before I suggested it to anyone else. Especially to Jace.”

Jace was the one who’d first suggested to her the possibility concerning Andrea, but he’d discarded it with the results of the autopsy. In any case, Shannon was right. Thinking someone might have killed Tim was way out of bounds. Maybe the result of the guilt she felt about so many things.

“Sorry. I’m just…exhausted. And emotionally strung out. We all are.”

“Yeah, well, we aren’t all talking about murder.”

“Forget I said it.”

“That you can even
think
that—”

“I guess it seemed better than the alternative.”

“The alternative?”

“I tried to get him down, Shannon, but I couldn’t. The paramedics said it was too late by the time I got there, but I’ll always wonder. Maybe if I’d gotten some help—”

“Stop it. You played this game with Andrea. I never realized you had such a martyr complex before.”

“I just keep thinking that there might have been something else I should have done. In both cases.”

“There wasn’t anything you could do. They
chose
to end their own lives. And in ways that precluded intervention.”

Which was also highly convenient…

Once the thought that they might
not
have committed suicide had formed, Lindsey found it difficult to get it out of her head. “You think any sixteen-year-old really wants to die?”

“I know two who apparently did,” Shannon said.

“They threaten. They leave notes. They call people. They call 9-1-1. Neither of these kids did any of those things.”

“Because they weren’t posing.”

“Tim Harrison wanted to die? Do you really buy that?”

“You saw some pretty graphic proof of just how much.”

“I don’t believe it.”

She didn’t, Lindsey realized. No matter how much it went against everything she’d seen and been told. She had known Tim. He’d been in her class today. And there had been no indication he was suicidal. For him to go downstairs only a few hours later and hang himself—

Shannon pushed up from the computer, leaning over to click out of Tim’s page. “You don’t
want
to believe it. I swear you’re as bad as Jace. Is that what you get from sleeping with a cop? Conspiracy theories? Better than an STD, I guess.”

“What the hell does that mean?”

“Oh, don’t play innocent with me. I know you, remember. I knew the first night you slept with him. Not that there’s anything wrong with that. About time if you ask me.”

“I didn’t ask you. It isn’t any of your business.”

“You’re right. I just thought it might offer an explanation as to why you’ve gone off the deep end.”

“
Me?
Hey, you’re the one who claims to know kids who might be capable of setting those fires. I’m the one who defended them. But you know what? Things are getting way out of control. If Jace is right—and despite whatever you think about him, he is a detective—then the suicides, the attacks, are all connected to those fires. Isn’t it about time you went to him with whatever information you have? We’re past the point of protecting somebody from having suspicion cast on them.”

“I don’t have anything concrete to base it on. I told you that.”

“Whatever you think, whoever you suspect, he’ll keep what you tell him in confidence.”

“Like he did with what you told him about Walt?”

“I never asked him to. I knew he’d have to talk to Walt. And at that point, I was beyond caring about the niceties. Getting locked in a burning building does that for you.”

The stakes had started climbing when she’d found the rattler in her hamper. The fire at the stadium had pushed them higher still. Now, with the deaths of two students…

“I’ll think about it,” Shannon said. “I promise. My instinct was that going to the police with what’s only intuition would be a betrayal of the student/counselor bond. But maybe you’re right. Maybe that kind of ethical consideration is a luxury we can no longer afford.”

“If Jace can narrow down the possibilities for the computer where Andrea’s page was created, he might be able to get a warrant. I know he’d like to question its owner. If he has a chance to do that, something might come of it.”

“And that might have nothing at all to do with the fires.”

“Maybe not, but do you think it might have had something to do with Andrea’s death? The fact that everybody in school knew about that garbage? For someone with her history, don’t you think that might have been enough to push her over the edge?”

“I told you I’ll think about it.”

Lindsey knew if she said any more, Shannon’s stubborn streak might kick in. “Fair enough. That’s all I’m asking.”

“So, is he any good?”

Despite the abrupt change of subject, she knew what Shannon wanted to know. “Yes, but if you’re looking for details, you’re going to be disappointed.”

“Just trying to live vicariously.” Shannon led the way out of the bedroom and down the hall, her words floating back in the gloom. “It’s been a long, dry spell. I may have to call Rick.”

“If you do, please don’t blame it on me.”

“Dumb and dumber.”

“You said that. I didn’t.”

“I’ll probably just settle for booze and my vibrator.”

“Well, there you go.”

They’d reached the kitchen where Lindsey had left her purse. She picked it up, leaning over to hug her friend.

“No pills, okay. Not if you’re really going to drink.”

“Don’t worry. You were supposed to bring the alcohol, remember. I doubt I’ve got enough here for a good buzz.”

“Good. Go to bed early and get some sleep.”

“You think we ought to go over to Walt’s in the morning?”

“The way he looked at me at the funeral, I’m pretty sure I’m the last person he’ll want to offer him comfort.”

“You found his son, Linds. At some point he’s gonna want to talk to you about that.”

She swallowed hard, thinking about the difficulties of that conversation. “Yeah, but I’m not sure I can do that tomorrow.”

“He may not want to, either. The police can give him enough information for now. More than he’ll want, I’m sure.”

Lindsey nodded, grateful for the reprieve. She walked over to the back door. “Call me when you get up.”