Jessica didn't know what to say. She had mistakenly summed up Kevin Byrne as a streetwise guy who muscled his way through his life and his job, a guy who ran on instinct instead of intellect. There was quite a bit more at work here than she realized. She suddenly felt like she had won the lottery in being partnered with him.
Before Jessica could respond, two teenaged girls approached the corner, umbrellas up and open against the drizzle.
'There they are,' Byrne said.
Jessica capped her coffee, buttoned her raincoat.
'This is more your turf.' Byrne nodded toward the girls, lighting a cigarette, hunkering down in the comfortable-read: dry-seat. 'You should handle the questions.'
Right, Jessica thought. I suppose it has nothing to do with standing in the rain at seven o'clock in the morning. She waited for a break in the traffic, got out of the car, crossed the street.
On the corner were two girls in Nazarene school uniforms. One was a tall, dark-skinned black girl with the most elaborate network of corn- rowed hair Jessica had ever seen. She was at least six feet tall and stunningly beautiful. The other girl was white, petite, and small-boned. They both carried umbrellas in one hand, wadded-up tissues in the other. Both had red, puffy eyes. Obviously, they had already heard about Tessa.
Jessica approached, showed them her badge, told them she was investigating Tessa's death. They agreed to talk to her. Their names were Patrice Regan and Ashia Whitman. Ashia was Somali.
'Did you see Tessa at all on Friday?' Jessica asked.
They shook their heads in unison.
'She didn't come to the bus stop?'
'No,' Patrice said.
'Did she miss a lot of days?'
'Not a lot,'Ashia said between sniffles. 'Once in a while.'
'Was she the type to bag school?' Jessica asked.
'Tessa?' Patrice asked, incredulous. 'No way. Like, never Г
'What did you think when she didn't show?'
'We just figured she wasn't feeling good or something,' Patrice said. 'Or it had something to do with her dad. Her dad's pretty sick, you know. Sometimes she has to take him to the hospital.'
'Did you call her or talk to her during the day?' Jessica asked.
'No.'
'Do you know anybody who might have talked to her?'
'No,' Patrice said. 'Not that I know of.'
'What about drugs? Was she into the drug scene?'
'God, no,' Patrice said. 'She was like Sister Mary Narc.'
'Last year, when she took off three weeks, did you talk to her much?'
Patrice glanced at Ashia. There were secrets entombed in that look. 'Not really.'
Jessica decided not to push. She consulted her notes. 'Do you guys know a boy named Sean Brennan?'
'Yeah,' Patrice said. 'I do. I don't think Ashia ever met him.'
Jessica looked at Ashia. She shrugged.
'How long were they seeing each other?' Jessica asked.
'Not sure,' Patrice said. 'Maybe a couple of months or so.'
'Was Tessa still seeing him?'
'No,' Patrice said. 'His family moved away.'
'Where to?'
'Denver, I think.'
'When?'
'I'm not sure. About a month ago, I think.'
'Do you know where Sean went to school?'
'Neumann,' Patrice said.
Jessica made notes. Her pad was getting wet. She put it in her pocket. 'Did they break up?'
'Yeah,' Patrice said. 'Tessa was pretty upset.'
'What about Sean? Did he have a temper?'
Patrice just shrugged. In other words, yes, but she didn't want to get anybody in trouble.
'Did you ever see him hurt Tessa?'
'No,' Patrice said. 'Nothing like that. He was just… just a guy.You know.'
Jessica waited for more. More was not forthcoming. She moved on. 'Can you think of anyone Tessa didn't get along with? Anyone who might have wanted to do her harm?'
This question started the waterworks again. Both girls began to cry, wiping at their eyes. They shook their heads.
'Was she seeing anyone else after Sean? Anyone who might have been bothering her?'
The girls thought for a few seconds, and again shook their heads in unison.
'Did Tessa ever see Dr. Parkhurst at school?'
'Sure,' Patrice said.
'Did she like him?'
I guess.
'Did Dr. Parkhurst ever see her outside of school?' Jessica asked.
'Outside?'
'As in socially.'
'What, like a date or something?' Patrice asked. She screwed up her face at the idea of Tessa dating a man as ancient as thirty or so. As if. 'Uh, no.'
'Do you guys ever go to him for guidance counseling?' Jessica asked.
'Sure,' Patrice said. 'Everybody does.'
'What sorts of things do you talk about?'
Patrice thought about it for a few seconds. Jessica could see that the girl was concealing something. 'School, mostly. College apps, SATs, stuff like that.'
'Ever talk about anything personal?'
Eyes earthward. Again.
Bingo, Jessica thought.
'Sometimes,' Patrice said.
'What sort of personal things?' Jessica asked, recalling Sister Mercedes, the guidance counselor at Nazarene when she attended. Sister Mercedes was built like John Goodman and had a perpetual scowl. The only personal thing you talked about with Sister Mercedes was your promise not to have sex until you were forty.
'I don't know,' Patrice said, getting interested in her shoes again. 'Stuff.'
'Did you talk about the boys you were seeing? Things like that?'
'Sometimes,'Ashia answered.
'Did he ever ask you to talk about things that you found embarrassing? Or maybe a little bit too personal?'
'I don't think so,' Patrice said. 'Not that I can, you know, remember.'
Jessica could see that she was losing her. She pulled out a pair of business cards and handed one each to the two girls. 'Look,' she began. 'I know this is tough. If you think of anything that can help us find the guy who did this, give us a call. Or if you just want to talk. Whatever. Okay? Day or night.'
Ashia took the card, remained silent, the tears building again. Patrice took the card, nodded. In unison, like synchronized mourners, the two girls lifted the balled tissues in their hands and dabbed at their eyes.
'I went to Nazarene,' Jessica added.
The two girls looked at each other, as if she had just told them she had once attended the Hogwart School.
'Seriously?' Ashia asked.
'Sure,' Jessica said. 'Do you guys still carve stuff under the stage in the old auditorium?'
