The Bitterest Pill

Thirty-six

Before heading to Boston, Jesse stopped at the high school. As he was now pretty certain Chris Grimm had been dealing drugs, he wanted to alert Principal Wester and to drop in on Maryglenn. No one except a victim is happy to see the cops, so Jesse wasn’t offended by Freda’s expression when he stepped into the office.

“Morning, Jesse,” Freda said. “Hope this isn’t terrible news.”

“It’s nothing tragic, but I do need a few minutes of Virginia’s time.”

Freda called in to the office to announce Jesse’s presence.

“Go on in, Jesse. She’s waiting for you.”

Principal Wester stood back to the door, facing out the window, much the way Jesse looked out at Stiles Island. Except Principal Wester was peering down at the activity on the athletic field.

“I try not to think about it,” she said, back still to her visitor.

“About what, Virginia?”

“All the responsibility that comes with my job. Come, stand by me.”

Jesse did.

“Look down there, Jesse. Every one of those kids out there has his or her own story. His or her own pain. They have their own small victories and crushing defeats. They have to deal with it minus the benefit of perspective. Everything to them seems so large. It’s all so overblown. And for seven or eight hours a day for almost two hundred days a year, I’m responsible for all of them.”

“Heather’s death has got you in a philosophical frame of mind.”

She nodded. “It has. Why is it we only consider these things when tragedy strikes? I ask you, Jesse, because you, too, bear the same kinds of responsibilities. I’m sure after that horrible business with the white supremacists, you must have thought about what might have happened. It must have given you pause.”

“For about five minutes.” He smiled. “I just try to do what’s right, Virginia, and leave the bigger questions to someone else. I’ve never been very good at figuring out the larger meaning of things, because I’m not sure there is one. I’ve dealt with too much pain and death to worry about it all now.”

“How do you know what’s right?” she asked, turning to look at his profile.

“I think once we’re their age,” he said, pointing out the window, “we already know what’s right, and when we’re not sure about what’s right, we have a good idea of what’s wrong.”

Principal Wester was quiet for a few seconds and then asked Jesse why he’d needed to see her.

He explained about Chris Grimm being missing and about what they had found in his room. He avoided discussing what he thought the odds were of the kid still drawing breath.

“What do you think it adds up to, Jesse?”

“I believe Chris was dealing drugs and was probably the person who supplied Heather with the fentanyl-laced heroin that was the cause of her death.”

Wester looked back out the window, that faraway stare returning to her eyes. “But if he’s run, why tell me?”

“Because if he’s run, someone will replace him. Someone probably already has. You know how to handle these kids and your faculty. I think you should put the word out to your teachers, guidance counselors, and the school psychologist. Let them know if any students want to talk to me about Chris, I’m available. I’m not looking to get anyone into trouble.”

“Understood. Thank you, Jesse.”

Five minutes later, Jesse was looking through the window of the art room door, waiting for a pause in Maryglenn’s lesson. When she stopped and the students began working on their projects, Jesse knocked and stuck his head into the room. A smile flashed across her face before she could stifle it. She was afraid that any student paying attention would know just how she felt about Jesse Stone.

“I was wondering if I might have a few minutes of your time?” he asked, and retreated into the hall.

She followed him out.

“This is a pleasant surprise.” She wasn’t trying to stifle her smile now. “What I’d really like to do is kiss you, but I think we’ll have to table that idea for now. What are you doing for dinner?”

“I’m driving down to Boston right after I leave here. Tomorrow night?”

“Sure. Why are you here, anyway?”

He smiled. “Seeing you isn’t good enough reason?”

“For me, yes. But really, Jesse.”

“I had to talk to Virginia Wester about Chris Grimm.”

“Anything you can share?”

“I think you’ll have an idea by the end of the day.”

“Okay.”

He brushed his fingers across her cheek. “I’ll come get you tomorrow night. You pick the place. Remember, you’re paying.”

“I was hoping you’d forget that.”

“Unlikely.”

“Okay, let me get back in there. They’re probably already talking about us.”

“Let them.”

“They’re teenagers, Jesse. I don’t have a choice.”

“Seven o’clock all right for tomorrow?”

“Perfect. Good luck in Boston with whatever.”

“Thanks.”

Before he could move, she kissed him quickly on the lips and smiled. “Let them talk.”