And now it was Jack's turn to carry that legacy forward.
“We'll get him,” Jack said quietly. “Whoever's doing this, we'll get him.”
“I know we will,” Colt said. “Now get back out there and start digging. I want everything you can find on wrestling team rosters, coaching staff, recent pharmacy orders for performance-enhancing substances, anything that might give us a lead.”
Jack and Mark left Colt's office and headed back to the bullpen. The afternoon sun slanted through the windows, casting long shadows across the desks. Around them, other detectives worked their cases, phones ringing, keyboards clicking, the steady hum of law enforcement doing its job.
“I’ll start calling distributors and the DEA database,” Mark said, immediately tapping on his keyboard.
Jack sat down at his desk and pulled up a blank document. Then he started writing. Every conversation. Every detail. Every piece of the puzzle that would lead them to the man in the hoodie who was poisoning kids with promises and lies.
28
Rachel was halfway through explaining the difference between a metaphor and a simile during the first period when the scream cut through the hallway outside her classroom.
It wasn't the sound of teenage drama or someone joking around with a friend. This was raw and terrified. The kind of sound that made every adult in the area move on instinct.
The students' gazes snapped toward the door. The classroom went silent except for the growing commotion in the hallway. Voices had risen, along with footsteps running, and someone still screaming.
“Stay here,” Rachel said firmly, already moving toward the door. “All of you, stay in your seats.”
She stepped into the hallway and immediately saw the crowd. Students clustered in a tight knot about ten feet from her classroom door, some of them pressing forward to see, others backing away with their hands over their mouths.
Rachel pushed through the crowd, her teacher's voice cutting through the chaos. “Move. Let me through. Move back. Give me space.”
The students parted reluctantly, and Rachel's stomach dropped when she saw what they were all staring at.
Terrance Bogdin lay on the floor, his body convulsing, his eyes rolled back in his head. He was broad-shouldered and muscular, but right now he looked vulnerable against the scuffed floor. Foam flecked the corners of his mouth, and his skin had gone a sickly pale color that made Rachel's chest tighten with fear.
She dropped to her knees beside him, her hands automatically reaching to stabilize his head, to keep him from hitting it against the floor as his body jerked and twisted. Her mind raced through the first-aid training she'd taken years ago. Seizure. Don't restrain him. Protect his head. Time it. Get help.
“Get the nurse! Someone call a principal!” Rachel shouted, her voice steady even though her hands were shaking. “Now!”
A girl near the back of the crowd fumbled for her phone. Another student ran toward the office. Two other teachers rushed forward, dropping to their knees next to him.
She kept her focus on Terrance. His convulsions were slowing, but his breathing sounded wrong… it was too shallow and fast, like he couldn't get enough air. Another teacher checked his airway while Rachel took off her cardigan and placed it on the floor to cushion his head.
“Terrance,” she said, keeping her voice calm and clear. “You're going to be okay. Help is coming. Just breathe.”
She didn't know if he could hear her or if it mattered, but she kept talking anyway, because it was all she could do.
The crowd of students pressed closer, phones out, some of them filming, others just staring with wide, frightened eyes. Rachel looked up and caught the eye of a junior she recognized from her third-period class.
“Get them back,” Rachel said sharply. “All of you, back up. Give him air. And put those phones away. Now.”
The authority in her voice cut through the shock, and the students began to shuffle backward. A few of them pocketed their phones. Others just stood there, frozen, unable to look away.
Laura raced from the front office with Emma in tow. While Laura worked to keep the kids out of the hall, Emma dropped to her knees next to Rachel, making sure Terrance’s head was protected.
Mr. Haynes rushed forward, talking into the radio held in his hand. “Nine-one-one has been called. Good, good. I’m with the student now. The nurse is coming.”
The school nurse arrived, breathless and carrying her medical bag. She knelt down and immediately started checking Terrance's vitals. “How long has he been like this?” the nurse asked.
“Two, maybe three minutes since the seizure started,” Rachel said. “It's stopped now, but his breathing?—”
“I see it.” The nurse's face was grim as she pulled out her stethoscope. “Good work keeping his head stable.”
The deputy serving as the school resource officer hurried forward. She quietly spoke into the attached radio at her shoulder, then moved the onlooking students farther back and told them to return to their classrooms.
