Читать книгу One Breath Away - Heather Gudenkauf, Heather Gudenkauf - Страница 26

There are shrieks from the crowd as a chair comes crashing through a window. I, along with the other officers present, unholster our firearms and we watch in amazement as a pink-clad shape tumbles out of the window. Immediately I know this is no gunman. It’s Gail Lowell, the elderly secretary at the school. She is coatless, wearing a bright pink sweater and chunky metallic jewelry. Her necklace and bracelets jingle gleefully as she picks her way carefully through the snow, her purse dangling from her arm. As she comes toward us, voices from the crowd pellet her. What’s going on? Are the kids okay? Is there a man with a gun?

“How many intruders are there?” I ask in a low voice as she approaches. She appears to have been crying, but it’s hard to tell because of the snow. “Did you see someone with a gun? Any injuries?” Gail looks helplessly from me to Chief McKinney and then her face crumples.

“It’s all my fault,” she sobs.

“Gail, this is important. Tell us exactly what’s going on in there,” I say more sharply than I intend to.

“Now, now, Gail,” McKinney tries to soothe her. “Are you injured?” Next to them I shuffle my feet and make soft, impatient sounds until McKinney glares at me.

Gail snuffles loudly. “No, no. I’m not hurt.”

“Let’s get you warmed up and then you can tell us what’s going on.” He leads her to a squad car with an idling engine, opens the door and gently guides her into the passenger’s seat. The chief climbs into the driver’s side and I settle into the backseat. For a moment the only sound is Gail’s soft cries and shivers. Chief McKinney fiddles with the heat and a whoosh of warm air floods the car.

“Gail,” I say through the partition that separates the front and back seats, “I know how difficult this must be for you. How terrified you must be.” I look at the chief and he nods for me to continue. “We need to know just three things right now, then we can take you wherever you want to go. Okay?” She bobs her head up and down and presses her fingers to her eyelids. “First, is anyone injured inside?”

Her chin wobbles. “I don’t know,” she says in a small voice. “I don’t know. He went off down the hallway and then he was gone.”

“One intruder, Gail? Did you know him? Is that what you are saying? There was just one person? Young or old?” I ask, thinking of Dorothy Jones’s son, Blake.

Gail closes her eyes and shakes her head as if trying to conjure up an image. “I didn’t recognize him. It was a man, just one. Forties maybe,” she says in a whisper.

Chief McKinney and I look at each other in relief. At least we can assure Dorothy that her son isn’t the intruder and encourage her to get him the help he needs and fast.

“I saw him come in,” Gail cries. “Oh, God, he walked right by the office window. He had on a tool belt. I thought he was going to work on the boiler—the thing is always breaking down and it’s so cold today. I didn’t even give it a second thought. He just walked right on by. Gave me a little wave.” A fresh round of sobs erupts and the chief pats her on the knee. “I should have noticed that he wasn’t dressed like a maintenance man. He was wearing dress shoes. Not work boots.” She pulls her hands from her eyes and her fingers are smudged with mascara. “Can I call my husband? Please?”