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"Can you describe what happened next?"Finn asked, his fingers tapping lightly on the arm of his chair, betraying his impatience.
"Those kids were merciless," Mrs.Brigg continued, her voice thick with anger."They taunted Clive, calling him names, even pouring soda on his head.He tried to fight back, but there were too many of them.The poor boy was humiliated and broken."
She paused, looking from Finn to Sheila."Is he in some sort of trouble now?"she asked, concern etched on her face.
"We're not sure," Finn replied, his voice carefully neutral."We just need to ask him some questions and see what he knows."
Sheila shifted in her chair, her mind racing with questions as she considered the implications of Mrs.Brigg's story.The gymnasium had been a place where Sheila herself had felt most alive and empowered.For Clive Waiters, though, it must have been a living hell.
Her eyes locked on Mrs.Brigg's, seeking answers."Did Clive ever fight back or retaliate against the bullies?"
Mrs.Brigg shook her head, her gray curls bobbing gently."No, he just kept to himself mostly.You know, we had a program here at Mildred Heights for helping troubled students.I personally worked with many of them, even the janitor's son, despite the fact that he wasn't officially enrolled."She sighed, her gaze distant."I tried to get Clive into the program, but his father wouldn't allow it.He believed that Clive needed to toughen up and learn to deal with things on his own."
Sheila clenched her fists, frustrated by the thought of a parent standing in the way of their child getting help.She knew better than most the value of support and teamwork, something Clive had been cruelly denied.
"Clive didn't last much longer after that incident in the gym," Mrs.Brigg continued, her voice tinged with regret."He dropped out of school and quickly fell off my radar.I wanted to follow up with him, but there were so many other students who needed help.Still, I feel guilty about not doing more for him."
"Mrs.Brigg, you've done more for your students than most teachers would," Finn reassured her, placing a comforting hand on her shoulder."You can't blame yourself for what happened to Clive."
"Thank you, officer, but I still can't help feeling responsible," she said, looking down at her hands folded in her lap.
"Mrs.Brigg," Sheila said softly, "you did what you could.As a teacher, your job is to guide your students, but ultimately, their paths are their own to choose.Clive's life took a turn that no one could have predicted."
Mrs.Brigg looked up at Sheila, tears glistening in her eyes."I just wish I could've helped him more."
"Your dedication to your students is admirable," Sheila said, reaching out to grasp Mrs.Brigg's hand."But even the best of intentions can't always change the course of someone's life.Now, we need to focus on finding Clive and getting answers.Do you have any idea where he might be now?We went to his home, but he wasn't there."
Mrs.Brigg frowned in thought, her eyes scanning the office as if searching for an answer."I'm not sure," she admitted, shaking her head."It's been so many years...But back when he was still a student here, there was a bridge he would sometimes go to when he needed to escape from the other kids.It's called Hartnell Bridge.I don't know if he would still go there after all this time, but it's something, I suppose."
"Thank you, Mrs.Brigg," Sheila said, exchanging a glance with Finn.They would have to check out the bridge as soon as possible.
As they gathered their things and prepared to leave, Mrs.Brigg looked at them with a somber expression."I always worried about Clive," she confessed, her voice barely more than a whisper."He was like a pressure cooker, you know?All that anger and pain boiling inside him...I knew that sooner or later, he was going to explode.I just hoped nobody else would get hurt."
CHAPTER TWENTY
Sheila eased off the accelerator as Hartnell Bridge loomed in the distance, its silhouette a dark, hulking shape against the inky night sky.
As they approached the bridge, Sheila spotted another vehicle parked near the entrance—an old, dented pickup truck.The paint had long since faded, and rust clung to the edges of the wheel wells.The windows were fogged up from the cold air, making it impossible to see inside.
Sheila pulled the car to a stop just a few feet away from the truck, headlights illuminating its empty interior.
"Think he's inside?"she asked.
"If he is," Finn answered, "I'm guessing he's been there for a while, given the amount of condensation on the windows."
Just then, Sheila caught sight of a shadowy figure standing on the bridge, partially obscured by the railings.With only the dim glow of moonlight to guide her, it was difficult to see much beyond the person's general outline.
"I think I just found him," she said, pointing as her heart pounded a little faster.
Finn nodded and drew his weapon.He ejected the magazine, checked it, then slammed it home again.
"Stay close," he said, opening his door.Sheila followed him out a moment later.
The chilling wind whipped around them, causing Sheila to shiver involuntarily.They approached the bridge on foot, Finn's weapon drawn and ready, their breaths visible in the cold air.Each step felt heavier than the last, the tension thickening like fog, making it difficult for Sheila to breathe.
There was a sudden movement as the figure tossed something small over the bridge.
"Stop!"Sheila shouted, worried that the figure might be disposing of evidence.Her heart pounded in her chest, her mind racing.
