The Word of a Child. Janice Johnson Kay

      Sick. She seized on an excuse no one would dispute.

      “Yes.” She swallowed. “I’m sorry. I’m not feeling very well.”

      Detective Connor McLean abruptly turned his back so that he looked out the window rather than at her.

      “The flu is going around,” Ed Lamarr said. “Here. Why don’t you come in and sit down.”

      In? She couldn’t.

      But it seemed she could, because she allowed herself to be led to the chairs facing Noreen’s desk. Sinking into one, she tried not to look at the broad, powerful back of the man gazing out the window.

      The principal sank back into her seat. “Do you feel well enough to talk about Tracy for a minute?”

      Mariah breathed in through her nose, out through her mouth. Slowly, carefully. She could be strong. He had never threatened her, never raised his voice.

      He had only destroyed her marriage and her belief in both her husband and herself.

      No. Her fingernails bit into her thighs. Be fair. It was childish to hold him responsible. He was not the accuser. If he had not come, it would have been someone else. He was only the messenger. The arm of the law.

      Lily Thalberg’s voice.

      As now he would be Tracy Mitchell’s.

      “Yes.” Miraculously Mariah heard herself sound calm, if far away to her own ears. “I’m fine.”

      “Ah. Well, let us know if it gets the best of you.”

      Mariah sat with her knees and ankles together, her spine regally straight. Poised. A lady, who would never let anything get the best of her. “Of course,” she agreed.

      “Then I want you to meet Detective Connor McLean of the Port Dare Police Department.”

      Had he recognized her, or only seen that the sight of him upset her?

      He turned.

      She said stiffly, “How do you do.”

      He nodded. “Ms. Stavig.”

      Noreen smiled at Mariah. “Tracy Mitchell chose to come to Mariah. She tells me ‘everyone’ says you can be trusted.”

      Mariah focused fiercely on the principal, blocking out her awareness of the police officer.

      “In this case, of course, I couldn’t keep what she told me confidential. In the future, students may not think I can be trusted.”

      “She understands that you did what you have to do.”

      “Did she ask you to keep what she told you confidential, Ms. Stavig?” asked Detective McLean.

      Mariah stared fixedly at the pencil cup on the principal’s desk. It was a crudely made and glazed coil pot, a child’s effort. “No,” she said. “What Tracy wanted, I think, was for Mr. Tanner to be fired. She must have realized I didn’t have the power to accomplish that. She did get somewhat upset at the idea of the police becoming involved, and particularly that she might have to testify in court.”

      From her peripheral vision, she saw him pull a notebook from an inside pocket of his well-cut gray suit coat. “Will you repeat what she told you to the best of your memory, Ms. Stavig? I believe she may have been more expansive with you than she was with Mrs. Patterson.”

      “Yes. Okay.” Mariah took a deep breath and began, at first disjointedly, feeling herself blush at the recitation of physical details, before pulling herself together to conclude like the articulate teacher she was.

      “What was your first reaction?” the detective asked.

      “That one of her mother’s boyfriends…” Mariah stopped herself and felt heat in her cheeks.

      The principal smiled ruefully. “The same thought occurred to me.”

      “Is it possible she’s accusing Mr. Tanner as a smokescreen?”

      When no one else responded, Mariah did. “Anything is possible.”

      He continued gently, relentlessly. “Tell me what you know of her home life.”

      Mariah did, watching from the corner of her eyes as he took detailed notes.

      “Do you know Gerald Tanner well?”

      Surprised and made uneasy by the question, Mariah was unwary enough to look at him. Their eyes met briefly, and she turned her head quickly.

      “Well, um, no,” she fumbled. “He’s new this year…”

      “Aren’t you planning a project together?” Ed Lamarr asked.

      “Yes.” Mariah explained. “We’ve never had any discussions I’d consider personal, however. I don’t even know if he’s married or has children.”

      “Actually he’s single,” Noreen contributed. “No children.”

      Mariah didn’t want to know that or anything else about her colleague. She wanted this never to have happened.

      “What will you do?” she asked the principal.

      “I’ve asked him to come to my office. I’ll have to tell him about the accusation, of course. Tracy has gone to the hospital for an exam, and, um…”

      Mariah nodded.

      “Unless DNA is recovered, however, the exam won’t be conclusive. Well,” she corrected herself, “unless she’s never had sexual intercourse at all and the entire story is fabricated.

      “Detective McLean will be conducting an investigation. I fear parents will demand that Mr. Tanner be suspended during the course of it. I’m undecided about that yet. Students have been known to make frivolous accusations. I don’t want to overreact.”

      “Tracy’s grades are suffering in my class,” Mariah said. “She may be flunking his.”

      “And yet, the fact that she is a poor student can have no bearing on our response to her allegation,” Noreen Patterson pointed out. “In fact, I suspect her failing grade explains why she responded to his…um, blackmail. He wouldn’t have had the same leverage with a better student.”

      Mariah nodded. “Yes. I understand. It’s just that…”

      “That?” the principal prompted.

      “It occurred to me today while we were talking that she and I were alone in a classroom with the door shut. She could have claimed I’d said or done anything. How will you ever know the truth?”

      The police officer stirred. “I doubt a thirteen-year-old girl who is a poor student has the sophistication to have built an airtight case. She’ll have talked to friends, for example, possibly bragging about how she was going to get rid of her computer teacher and make everybody feel sorry for her. Clearly she didn’t understand that her accusation would go outside the school. In the stress of having to repeat her story to me, other officers, somebody from Child Protective Services, even a D.A., she’ll likely slip up.”

      “If she’s not telling the truth,” Mariah felt compelled to say, surprised at her sharpness.

      He lifted a brow. “Exactly.”

      She started at a rap on the glass inset in the door.

      Galvanized, Mariah leaped to her feet. She said hastily, “I know you’ll want to talk to Gerald without me here. Unless you need anything else, I’ll be going home now.”

      Detective McLean’s light eyes flicked from her face to the man who stood behind her.

      “Actually, Mariah, I was hoping you could stay.” Noreen cleared her throat. “I’d like your thoughts.”

      Thoughts?

      She was backpedaling, careful to avoid looking at the police