Stone Cross (Arliss Cutter #2) - Marc Cameron Page 0,49
cruel or unusual.
The school was just across the road.
The beige metal façade looked out of place compared to the faded, wind-bitten houses they’d passed on the way in from the airport. Ned Jasper’s plywood trailer contained half the airplane passengers’ luggage, so everyone including the judge came out to help unload when they rode up. Lola snickered when she saw the back of Cutter’s pants as he was getting his bags from the trailer. “Looks like they dragged you here.”
Melvin Red Fox gave a sheepish grimace. “Shoulda warned you, Deputy,” he said.
“I think he got most of this when he took down Archie,” Jasper said.
Red Fox groaned. “Figured it was probably Archie who threw Doreen out the window. I heard last night on the VHF somebody made a big batch of home brew. That boy ain’t the only one who has problems when he’s drinkin’. You’re gonna be busy, Ned.”
“Maybe they’ll wait till after the potluck,” the VPSO said. He nodded toward Cutter’s muddy pants. “Just stomp a couple times to get the big chunks off and you’ll be fine. School is still in session for a couple of hours, so you’ll have to stage all your gear in the library until classes get out. Judge, I think they have you in the consumer and family science room—what we used to call home economics. You’ll have your own toilet, but I’m afraid you’ll have to shower in the locker room. I’m not sure where Birdie is putting the rest of you.”
Jasper had a fair amount of mud on his own boots and did as he’d instructed Cutter, stomping them on the heavy metal grating that led up to the double set of glass doors. Cutter suspected they weren’t the first to come to this school with muddy boots.
Markham stood at the top of the steps, bag in hand, looking a little stunned. “Is she all right? That girl who crashed out the window?”
“Who, Doreen?” Jasper shrugged. “I’ll go and take some photos of her injuries in a few minutes. Sad deal, that one. I’ve been tellin’ her to get away from Archie since I moved here two months ago.”
Lola faced outbound without being told, keeping watch for Daisy Aguthluk or any other threat. Cutter put his body behind the judge, and gently cajoled everyone toward the front doors.
“I’d like to be kept apprised of her condition,” Markham said.
“You bet, Judge,” Cutter said. “We should get inside.”
Ewing, the attorney for the nonprofit corporation, shuffled along with his bag, grousing under his breath. “Now everyone’s in a hurry.”
The school had two sets of doors, providing a dead air space or arctic entry, to conserve heat. Lola paused alongside Cutter at the outer set of doors.
“Reminded me of that old no-win scenario they tell us about in the academy.”
“Weren’t they all no-win?”
“True,” Lola said. “Still, I’m surprised you peeled off from the detail to save the girl.”
“Are you really?”
“No, boss.” Lola laughed out loud. “Not one damned bit.”
Cutter relaxed a notch once the judge returned to the school proper. It wasn’t exactly a fortress, but any building was better than standing in the fog like sitting ducks.
There was a small lobby just inside the door with two long classroom wings running east and west from a center common area that served as the lunchroom. The main office was just inside the front doors. On the opposite side of the lobby was a set of restrooms labeled in what was presumably Yup’ik, written underneath the plaques that designated them BOYS and GIRLS. A piece of printer paper was taped to each door with a reminder about the water limits of the village. IF IT’S BROWN FLUSH IT DOWN. IF IT’S YELLOW LET IT MELLOW.
“Kind of in-your-face,” Markham’s law clerk said.
Jasper gave a shrug. “It is what it is. Pipes tend to freeze this time of year. There’s a storage tank for water under the school, but a lot of houses still use five-gallon honey buckets to take care of business. Most kids wait until they get to school so they go through a lot of water . . .” He waved at two elementary-age girls coming down the hall toward them, on their way to the restrooms. Both stopped and giggled when they saw the group of strangers with their VPSO. Rosy cheeks, jet-black hair, fleece jackets. Cutter could not remember ever seeing more vibrant smiles.
“Whach you’re doin’ here?” one of the girls asked, staring at Lola.