Page 18 of One of Our Own

Miguel quickly rattled off the statistics of how common it’d become, especially within the last five years, to hold boys back in kindergarten and again in middle school. By the time they got to high school, they were a full two years older than the rest of the students in their class. He talked about how there were two nineteen-year-olds at Buckley and one twenty-year-old—two were basketball players and the other a football player. I knew it happened, but Hunter was a runner, and that sort of thing didn’t happen in his sport. The last thing you wanted in a runner was for them to be too big. Size gave no advantage. So I never thought much about this practice or its implications.

“If we find out that one of them was involved, we’re suing the school. Because guess what? There’s a reason we don’t let our teenage daughter hang out with men, especially around men drinking alcohol.”

“You’ve come here today to ask for the community’s support. What can we do to help you?” Rachel asked. Her eyes were kind.

“The investigators have created an anonymous tip line for anyone with information about that night, or the drugs, or the video to come forward.” The number flashed on the bottom of the screen.

Mrs. Danes finally lifted her head from her husband’s shoulder and pulled away from him. She gave her first look at the camera. The devastation in her eyes rocked me to my core. The unrelenting pain of a mother who’d discovered her child had been hurt. We felt it in our bodies, like it was happening to us.

“Please… please…” Her voice warbled. She was doing everything she could do not to burst into tears while she spoke. “They hurt my baby girl so bad, and you’ve got to help us find who did this to her. Please.”

Rachel’s eyes filled with tears. She had three girls of her own. One of them was a junior at Buckley. “I’m so sorry this is happening, and we wish you and your family all the love and support possible while you go through this difficult time.” Rachel shifted her gaze to the camera, to everyone watching. The tip line number flashed back on the screen. “The number to call is at the bottom of your screen, and we’re asking all of you to help find Chloe’s attackers and bring them to justice. If you can think of any information that might be helpful, reach out. Talk to your kids. See what they know. And please, don’t share the video.”

Mr. and Mrs. Danes gripped each other tightly. “Thanks, Rachel.”

Miguel’s and Rachel’s faces were grim as the video box of the Danes disappeared.

“Wow,” Miguel said solemnly. “What a terrible tragedy. I hope our viewers are able to help.”

“Yes, me too,” Rachel agreed, nodding her head. “I think we might need a break after all that, and when we come back, maybewe can show clips from last night’s puppy show at the 4H building? Feel like we all need something to help us feel better.”

“Definitely,” Miguel said, turning around to face the camera. “We’ll be back soon with the Winston Dog Festival.”

They cut to commercial. I sat in front of the TV while my brain swirled. When I said she should go to her parents, I’d never expected her parents to go to the media. I wasn’t prepared to see a victim’s face, especially a child’s, broadcast on live TV like that. And I wasn’t sure how I felt about it. All I could think about was Hunter and how private he was. He didn’t even like me posting anything about him on social media to my small handful of friends and followers. I used to post all the time: cute photos of us out and about around town, or celebrating holidays. But once he hit middle school, he started getting embarrassed by it, so I only posted stuff he gave me permission to.

Chloe— I paused. That was her name. It felt strange to think of her with a name. And now a face. Because Mr. Danes had plastered it all over the screen. Was he supposed to do that? I’d seen Rachel’s and Miguel’s expressions when he did. They’d both looked totally surprised, then quickly brushed it off, but I’d caught it. Didn’t we try to keep victims’ information private? Especially when they were minors?

I just couldn’t imagine Chloe wanted this. She’d been so secretive. And mortified. Her father had brought up the video and asked people not to watch it, but that seemed like wishful thinking to me. Telling people there was a video out there probably just piqued their curiosity, and they could be googling it right now.

What had I done?

CHAPTER TWELVE

“How did you know this was happening? Did they go to the police? Were you the one to take the statement? How did Chloe seem?” I questioned Stan rapid fire, barely able to catch my breath. I’d called him as soon as I got in my car, hoping he was one of the detectives that met with the Danes down at the station.

“They came in yesterday morning, and it was an absolute disaster. We already knew we needed everybody ready and all hands on deck because Mr. Danes called the night before, and he was absolutely furious. Understandable, but he was ready to go find those boys and take care of them himself, so we had to try to de-escalate the situation.”

That detail stopped me in my tracks. I knew there was a gun in the house somewhere. Did Stan remember that? Of course he did. He’d be a terrible detective if he didn’t. “Was Chloe with him?”

“She was.”

“What was she like?” He could lose his job for having this conversation with me, and I could hear the slight hesitation in his voice. But he knew me well enough to know he could trust me. Also, I’d helped him navigate the sticky gray edges of his divorce a few years back, free of charge, and he owed me a favor.

“I didn’t take her statement, but she wasn’t in a good placeat all, and I’m pretty sure she wasn’t there willingly. Her and her mom both seemed a bit shell-shocked, but Mr. Danes had shifted into take-down mode. He was determined to go after everyone involved, and nothing was going to stop him. Honestly, I’d feel the same way. Who wouldn’t? He bulldozed his way into the station and forced her down there, too, but what other choice did he have? You couldn’tnotreport something like that. If there are high school kids going around drugging girls at parties and assaulting them, you’ve got to do whatever you can to stop it. And… listen, I didn’t tell you this until now because I don’t work sex crimes and hadn’t talked with them about the case until yesterday, but there’ve actually been a few other instances of young girls being drugged and raped within the last year. The detectives investigating those cases are wondering if Chloe’s is related, so it’s an even more serious issue than we originally thought. Not that it wasn’t serious to begin with.” He cleared his throat. “Anyway, we called in our crisis response team and one of our victim advocates is the one who took her statement.”

“But forcing her to go down to the police station and give a statement before she was ready… don’t you think it could all backfire?” I realized the hypocrisy in what I’d just said.Iwas the one who made her tell her parents before she was ready. And look what happened.

“I know. Feels harsh, but he wasn’t wrong. It’s now been weeks since the assault, and we’ve already lost valuable time. All the physical evidence is gone. Washed away. Now our team is working its way backward. We’re going through the video, and a few of the officers are headed out to the school today to question students.”

I wondered if Chloe was at school today. How was she supposed to go to school after something like this? Before, I’d told her there was no way everybody knew about what happened, but thischanged everything. If there was a remote chance somebody didn’t know about the assault or the video as of yesterday, it was gone now.

“Did she say who did it?” I asked. Maybe that would be the saving grace in all of this. They’d arrest the boys who hurt her and she could start to heal.

This time there was even more hesitation to answer my question. “We’re compiling a list of names of possible suspects,” Stan said, being intentionally vague.

I didn’t push. I wanted to keep him on my side. But I was dying to know if Hunter was on the list. Or what about Shai? Any of his other friends? “Have you watched the video?” I asked instead.

“I have.” His voice grew thick with emotion. No doubt he was thinking about his ten-year-old daughter at home. Only a few years younger than Chloe.

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