10th Anniversary - James Patterson [37]
Willy took off her belt, put it in a tote, and went through the scanners at the entrance. I badged security and took the girl with black hair, black clothes, and a bite-me expression up to the squad room, where the swing shift was at work.
I asked Sergeant Bob Nardone if I could use my desk, and he said, “Sure, Boxer. And I should do what? Work on my air computer?”
“Get up, Nardone. Heat up your coffee. Take a break. We won’t be long.”
I commandeered the desk chair, and Willy Steihl stood beside me as I logged on to my account. Then I gave the girl my chair so she could enter her information on my computer.
She hunched over the keyboard as she typed in her password and ID, saying, “Give me a second, okay? I’m opening the folder I was telling you about.”
I was drumming my fingers on my desk as Willy Steihl tapped on the keys. Finally she said, “Got it.”
I turned the monitor toward me and stared at a picture of a soccer game. Kids were flying across the field, the ball was in play, and people were cheering at the sidelines. A typical high-school sports event.
“See,” she said. “This was us against the Warriors. I was taking pictures of Larry.”
She enlarged the picture, focusing not on the field but on the people watching the game. I saw Avis Richardson with her profile to the camera, wearing Burberry-plaid pajama bottoms and a school sweatshirt that effectively hid her pregnancy.
She was standing very close to a tall, dark, and handsome man who, to my eyes, was definitely not a student.
Willy clicked the mouse and another picture came up, then another, and with each picture she enlarged the frame and closed in on Avis Richardson. In one of the pictures, I saw that Avis’s hand was tucked into the hand of the good-looking man.
“Who is that?” I asked Willy.
“That’s Mr. Ritter. He teaches sophomore English,” she said.
“What are you implying, Willy? Don’t make me guess.”
The girl squirmed in the chair.
“Willy. Do not waste my time.”
I wanted to give her a good shake, but she made up her mind without more help from me.
“We all knew that Avis and Mr. Ritter were close,” she said. “She got excellent grades in English, so we thought she was his favorite student, or maybe they were really close. You know what I mean? Because Avis lied when she told you that she was dating Larry Foster.
“She wasn’t dating him. I am.”
Chapter 45
WILLY STEIHL had dropped a bomb.
She was leading me to believe that there was a relationship between a fifteen-year-old girl and her English teacher. What the hell was that? Statutory rape, that’s what it was, a crime that could come with jail time for Mr. Ritter if he was convicted. And, if he’d been involved in the death of a baby? He’d be serving life in a federal prison.
I said to Willy, “Apart from these pictures, is there anything else you can tell me? Did Avis say anything to you about Mr. Ritter? Have you ever seen them alone together?”
Willy Steihl shrugged, then shook her head no. She looked as though she were trying to disappear through the back of the chair.
“Willy, this is very helpful and it’s also very serious. Could Mr. Ritter be the father of Avis’s baby?”
“I don’t know. I just wanted you to see the pictures and draw your own conclusions, okay?”
Not okay.
“A baby is missing, Willy. Try to imagine what Avis must be feeling. What her parents are going through. That little boy is helpless. He may be alone. He may be dying. If you know anything that could help us find him, you have to tell me. It’s your obligation. In fact, if you know something and don’t tell me, that makes you an accessory to a crime.”
“I shouldn’t have come,” said the girl in black, scrambling out of the chair, swinging her backpack over her shoulder. “I don’t know anything. I have to get out of here.”
I hadn’t been subtle. I’d hammered the kid and threatened her, and now