I Just Can't Deal With It
Previously: The Thomases meet with the team to hear the latest.
Need to catch up on The Spring? Visit the chapter index right here:
1:53 PM - Friday, November 6, 2014
US Park Police Office, Ft Winfield Scott, The Presidio
Carole Thomas closed her eyes for a long moment as a tear made its way down her cheek. Her husband stared off into the mid-distance, eyes weary.
“We’ve spoken with Charlie at length,” Jeannie began quietly, “and he was not present at the party at Inspiration Point. He packed his DJ gear, drove Ryan home in time to make curfew — which Alexa had asked him to do, and then returned to the Hartman home in order to try and catch the group before they left for the park. Unfortunately, he received a spiked drink which made him very sick and he fainted.”
“Spiked —?” Carole whispered, “how—how was it spiked? With drugs?”
“Charlie is sober and takes Antabuse in order to assist with his recovery. The person who made him a drink may or may not have purposefully added alcohol in order to make him sick. We cannot be sure.” There was a long silence.
“I’m— I’m sorry Officer Hagen,” Spiro Thomas began quietly. “Can you tell us anything that you are sure of? I mean — am I wrong in thinking…if Charlie had his drink spiked and then someone harmed my daughter, it sounds to me like those two things are connected to me.” Spiro’s dark eyes narrowed on Jeannie.
“We think the same, sir.” Mark offered quietly. “But we are still confirming a lot of information. We are still working to corroborate statements and gather evidence. What we can tell you is that your daughter was targeted by unknown bullies who seemed to have doubled-down on their efforts on Halloween. The evidence points to a — “ Mark glanced to Jeannie briefly, “well, we are hearing that it was a prank that may have gone too far.”
“That’s — that’s unacceptable to me.” Spiro stared at Mark blankly.
“We all agree on that, sir.”
“Do you have children, Agent Greenberg?”
Mark sighed slightly. “I’m about to have a baby any day now. A girl.”
Spiro swallowed hard at this, his eyes squinting away tears. “Then you know that a prank gone too far is unreasonable. I know teens do wild things — I was young once too, but I didn’t kill anyone.” The father shook his head in disbelief. “Seb and his friends — do you think they would do this to Alexa because of the Tahoe thing? Why wouldn’t they leave her alone?”
“That’s what we’re working to find out.” Mark offered quietly. “And we will need your help. Mrs. Thomas, you said you would work on a statement for a press conference?” Carole nodded slightly, face bent. “We’d like to have a press conference this afternoon. We’re going to launch a tip line and a request for additional photos or videos of the party at Inspiration Point. Gathering more imagery will help us confirm some essential elements of the case. I’m sorry that I can’t be more specific right now, but there’s multiple investigations happening now.”
Spiro Thomas cleared his throat slightly. “The Hartman raid this morning? Is that part of this?”
“Well,” Mark began, tilting his head, “the party on Friday was at the Hartman home, and we did find evidence of illicit drugs among the people who continued from that home over to Inspiration Point. We have been told that Tripp Hartman was a known drug supplier among his peers. Our investigation was in partnership with other federal agencies who were already investigating the Hartmans for their own reasons. I’m sorry, I can’t give you further information on that.” Spiro nodded slightly at this.
“The Hartmans —” Spiro shook his head. “I’ve never even met these people but they harmed my daughter more than once.” He exhaled a shaking breath. “I — I don’t know — what, what can I even do here? Please tell me what I can do. I’m already so helpless.”
“We need you to be at the press conference, but again I want you both to understand that this case will get very big very quickly. A beautiful young girl who dies under suspicious circumstances is always media fodder. We’re hoping that the Hartman investigation will pull some of the focus, but we just don’t know how this will play out. You may get media requests: interviews, statements, all of that. You may want to designate a spokesperson.” Carole shook her head, but didn’t speak.
“I’m going to make sure your street will be closed to anyone that doesn’t live locally.” Paco added. “It’s a National Park so we can draw some boundaries around press access. I’m going to do my best to keep them outside of the park entirely, but they’ll take what they can get.”
Carole reached to grasp her husband’s hand again. The two shared a long look in silence.
“We have some very strong leads.” Jeannie said quietly, trying to reassure the parents. “We can’t tell you more, but we are getting more clarity with every conversation we have.”
Spiro Thomas nodded slightly while his wife sniffed and pulled more tissues from the box.
“I — I know. We know you all are doing everything you can. We trust you. We just — we just need some answers.”
“We’re going to get them for you, sir. I promise you.” Mark concluded.
2:23 PM - Friday, November 6, 2014
2945 Pacific Ave between Broderick & Baker
The moment the Thomases left with the instruction to meet back at around 4:30pm, Jeannie and Mark departed up the hill to Pacific Heights. The 1920s-era building was painted freshly white, with brass fixtures buffed to a mirror finish. The large glass front door was decorated with wrought iron scrollwork in a crisp black, hinting at the black-and-white checkered floor inside. Mark rang the callbox after scrolling through the list of tenants to find “Tyson”.
The box rang 4 times and then went to voice mail. Mark dialed again, receiving the same result. Jeannie stepped in front of the box and pressed the buttons until she landed on “Manager” and dialed the number who immediately buzzed them both inside.
The small vestibule had a large mirror along one wall with a staircase beginning at the back. Jeannie rang for the elevator while Mark flipped through the mail left out on a console table.
“What are you even looking for?” Jeannie asked wryly.
“Just wanting to see if she’s picked up her mail…she hasn’t.” Mark pulled 4 envelopes from the pile and grabbed them just as the elevator opened.
“What do you think we’re going to find up there?” Jeannie whispered.
“I have no idea. But, the Headmaster said she’d called out sick, so hopefully she’s actually sick.” Mark huffed, leaning against the back of the elevator. “Why, what do you think we’re going to find?”
“I’m just trying not to think of the possibilities. Jen Tyson’s not exactly the most stable person in our cast of characters.”
The elevator pulled to a slow stop at the top floor, revealing a classic arched hallway in white stucco with arched doorways in deep mahogany wood finished in a glossy glaze. Apartment 6 was one door down. Jeannie rang the door bell to the side which made a sharp buzz, but also knocked sharply as a television was playing loudly inside. Both of them heard someone approach softly from the inside of the apartment, and noted a shadow move behind the peephole. Jeannie knocked sharply again.
“Jennifer — it’s Jean Hagen and Mark Greenberg. We need to speak with you. The Headmaster at Academy said you’d stayed home today?” Jeannie called into the door. There was no answer.
Jeannie knocked again and Mark leaned into the doorbell, extending the buzz for a few long seconds.
“Jennifer — open the door please, we need to speak with you.” Mark added. “Or we can simply speak through the door so your neighbors can hear?” There was a slight stirring on the other side of the door. “Jennifer we can hear you inside. It would be better if you’d open the door, please.” Mark buzzed the doorbell again, longer this time.
The broad wood door jolted open to reveal a bright white room, but no one was visible.
“Jen —?” Jeannie asked cautiously.
“Come in if you want to talk.” The voice sounded warbly and strange. Jeannie glanced at Mark and instinctively put her hand onto her Sig, unsnapping the holster. He nodded slightly and pulled his pistol from his own holster. Jeannie eased forward slightly and peered around the door carefully, using it to block most of her body. Jen Tyson was propped against the wall in a set of pajama shorts, tank top, and a ratty bathrobe that was white with turquoise stars quilted into the surface. The girl looked wan and unfocused.
“Jennifer — are you sick? The Headmaster mentioned you called out sick.” Jeannie was cautious as she approached, lowering her hidden hand to signal to Mark that she wasn’t dangerous.
“I’m — I’m okay.” Jen stammered. Her large blue eyes danced a little before they settled on Jeannie. “Why are you here?”
“We need to speak with you. We have a few more questions for you and we’re hoping you can help us.” Mark eased into the door and stood behind Jeannie, pushing the door closed behind him. “Can - can we sit down somewhere?” Jeannie asked quietly. Jen’s eyes were huge and her cheeks looked hollowed-out, but she looked older somehow. Her unkempt blonde hair now featured a broad streak of pink and purple and the whole mess was piled up into a haphazard bun on her head.
“Sure.” Jen said softly. She moved past both of them, leading them toward the back of the apartment which featured broad windows that faced south over the city, offering spectacular views. The main piece of furniture was an oversized, squishy, sectional upholstered in bright white fabric. Accents of white coral and a large dish of seashells graced the coffee table with a large art book about surfing. An overly-large chair sat in the corner in a bright turquoise blue.. The chair looked like something someone with poor taste would have chosen as an “accent” piece in the room, but the effect was so wrong it was jarring. The color of blue was sickly bright, almost juvenile — something you’d see in a kid’s play space. It wasn’t a chair for a sophisticated apartment that was trying to look like a beach house. The rest of the room’s white-on-white was so basic Jeannie wondered if the apartment was staged. There was nothing personal in the space. No photos, books, not even a plant. It felt sterile, and the blue chair felt like an amateur mistake. Luckily, the view was so beautiful that very few people would look at anything else in the room.
Jen Tyson plopped down into the nest of white cushions on the broad sofa sectional, finding a pocket for herself deep in the L-shaped corner. She pulled a large, chunky white throw blanket over her, which unfolded to reveal the television remote. The TV above the fireplace was showing some reality show on re-run, but Jen was transfixed. She was unconcerned about her visitors who glanced at each other wondering how to proceed.
“Jen — do you mind? We really need to speak with you.” Jeannie stood directly in front of Jen on the sofa, blocking her view of the TV. Jen’s eyes finally focused on her and she looked confused. “Can we get you to turn the TV off please?” Jen considered her and then slowly reached up with the remote, the TV shutting down with a soft pop.
“Thank you.” Jeannie said into the now-silent room. Mark had been staring out at the view from the large windows, finally turning to face them in the silence. “Now — do you think, could we possibly go sit in the dining room? I realize you may not feel well, but we do need to speak officially.” Jeannie stood again as Mark stepped forward, hoping that the two of them would get Jen to move. Jeannie needed this girl to focus, not hide under the covers. Jen tossed back the throw blanket with a huff and stood on her spindly legs, leaving her robe open as she stormed away, leading them into the dining room, which was also entirely white. A set of oddly-shaped modern candleholders in turquoise blue held an array of white candles that were leaning in every direction but straight up. Again, the tone of blue was all wrong; it made Jeannie think of a Malibu Barbie sports car, or some awful shade from the 80s.
Jen pulled out an armchair from one end of the dining table and draped herself into it, folding her legs up onto the seat, revealing her bare legs and knees. Jeannie sighed, glancing at Mark who looked impervious.
“Thank you, Jen.” Jeannie said gently. “Are you feeling alright? Have you been to a doctor?”
“I’m fine.” Jen’s voice was small. “I’m not really sick, I just didn’t want to go to school.”
“Doesn’t a parent need to call the school to get you excused? Are your parents around?”
“No.” Jen scoffed. “My Mom’s away. I called Marjorie and she made it happen.”
“Marjorie Sands? The guidance counselor?” Jeannie couldn’t hide her surprise. Jen nodded, blinking her large blue eyes. “That’s — unusual.”
“She — she understands that some days I just — I just can’t deal with it. She covers for me.”
“I see.” Jeannie knew this was entirely unorthodox and likely unknown by the other administrators at the school. “What do you mean you just can’t deal with it? Can you tell me about that?” Jen sighed and rolled her eyes slightly in response.
“School is just, like, a lot, you know?”
“What makes it less, Jen?” Mark asked her quietly. “Do you rely on prescriptions to make school more easy to manage?”
“Um.” Jen swallowed, “they aren’t prescriptions for me. I just get them…I get them from Tripp sometimes. They help me. I mean, like, I have my own prescriptions from my doctor, but they’re, like, they’re just so I kind of stay even, you know?”
“So what do you get from Tripp?” Mark’s voice was calm and understanding.
“Just like, like things that make me feel better. Things that make me feel a little more fun.”
“Do you know the name of what you get from Tripp?”
“It’s Oxy.” Jen said simply, popping one shoulder in a shrug as her robe slid down. “He gets me tens of Oxy.”
“Tens, like ten milligrams?” Jen nodded once. “And how many do you take?”
“Um. I don’t know. I take them all day...whenever I need to kind of feel happier.”
“When did you start taking Oxy, Jen?” Mark asked gently.
“Um, like maybe in sophomore year? Seb had hurt his ankle in basketball and he got some from the doctor and I tried one and I liked it. And then Tripp told me he could get me some if I wanted.” Mark nodded at her silently, trying to assess how dilated her eyes were.
“When did you last take one?”
“I — I haven’t had any in a few days. That’s why I didn’t want to go to school. And yesterday, you know, Alexa’s funeral. It was awful. I sent a text to Tripp yesterday but I haven’t heard form him.”
“Okay Jen. That’s good because we need to be very clear with you in this conversation, so it’s better that you haven’t had any Oxy today. Have you had any other prescriptions or drugs?”
“N-no. Just my sertraline. I take it every morning. And coffee, I had coffee.”
“Have you eaten today?” Jeannie asked her, Jen’s eyes roving over to her.
“I’m not hungry.”
“Okay.” Mark swallowed. “So from what you said Jen, Tripp has been getting you Oxy for two years now?” Jen nodded. “Do you pay him for these drugs or are they gifts?”
“Um. It depends. Sometimes I pay and sometimes he hooks me up.”
“Got it. Well, we’ll talk about that later. But what we need to know about is the GHB. Did you know that some of the Trick-or-Tito’s at the party last Friday night had GHB in them?” Jen considered Mark for a long moment.
“Yes.” She whispered.