The Replacement Child - By Christine Barber Page 0,37

driver’s-side door was crushed over the man’s legs. He would need to be cut out of the car. What did the firefighters call it? Extrication? It was obvious from his injuries that he hadn’t been wearing a seat belt, and the car was too old to have an airbag.

Gerald calmly said, “Hold his neck.” Lucy squeezed past the deputy in the backseat and held the driver’s head and neck in place from behind—keeping his head straight to maintain C-spine, the only thing she remembered from class. Gerald checked the man’s breathing and heart rate.

The man was bleeding heavily from his head. Lucy was glad that Gerald had made her put on two sets of gloves—her first pair was now covered in blood.

The deputy was occasionally calling out, “Sir, sir? How are you doing, sir?” The man let out a groan.

“Do you know what his name is?” Lucy asked the deputy.

“No. He was talking just a minute ago.”

Gerald used a stethoscope to listen to the man’s lungs, as Lucy tried to calm her own breathing.

A firefighter appeared at the back door with a backboard and a C-collar—a medieval-looking contraption that was supposed to fit around the man’s neck. And she was the one who was supposed to know how to work it. She looked around. She had no idea what she was doing. This man needed experienced emergency medical help, not some stupid girl who had taken a medic class just to get over her boyfriend. She felt the panic rise in her stomach and move up her throat.

Gil waited outside the principal’s office. The chair he sat on felt like it was going to fall apart if he moved. He adjusted himself slowly. Principal Ken Strunk’s secretary had said that he would be right out. That had been fifteen minutes ago.

Strunk appeared about five minutes later. He was about five feet eleven inches and trim, his brown hair graying at the temples. Gil guessed he was about forty-five. His shirtsleeves were carefully rolled up to just below his elbows and his tie was slightly loose. Gil thought that the casual image seemed very practiced.

They went into Strunk’s office. It was nothing like the metal cabinets and linoleum of public schools. Abstract paintings hung on the paneled walls and the rest was done in tones of brown, with the carpeting and drapes in a deep shade of peach. It wasn’t pink but peach. Gil knew the difference. When he and his wife were remodeling their house, she’d made him go to paint stores as far away as Albuquerque looking for the right shade. Twice he’d brought home colors that his wife frowned over—saying that they were light pink, not peach. Gil started to wonder if he was color blind. They’d ended up with a shade called peach-kissed that looked the same as every other shade. Gil wondered whether Strunk or his wife had decorated his office.

Gil sat in one of the fake antique chairs and Strunk sat at his desk.

“It’s a tragedy, what happened to Miss Baca. She was a fine teacher who cared for her students,” Strunk said, looking grave.

Gil wondered if Strunk had prepared that speech during the twenty minutes he had been waiting. “What can you tell me about her, Mr. Strunk?”

“Not much. Just as I said, Miss Baca was a fine teacher.”

“How long had she worked here?”

“About six months. It was her first job after graduating from college in August. She was a dean’s-list student at the University of New Mexico. Her teachers recommended her highly.”

“She came to work on time? Didn’t have a lot of sick days?”

“Miss Baca was very punctual and reliable. She never had a sick day.”

“Do you know that for sure? You don’t want to look it up?” Gil was still wondering what Strunk had been doing during that twenty minutes.

“Actually, I do know that for certain. I checked her records before you came in.”

“What else do her records say?”

“Nothing more.”

“Can I see them?

“No. They are confidential. I believe that since you’re not the official investigating officer, you have no reason to look at them.” Strunk smiled kindly after he’d said it. “I don’t mean to be rude, Detective. I must be very careful in a situation like this to not involve the school in any lawsuits. I hope you understand.”

“Mr. Strunk, I understand completely. You have been very helpful so far,” Gil said as he watched Strunk, who loosened his tie more.

“Oh, I wish you hadn’t said that,” Strunk said with another