Here I am. Send Me.--Chapter Nine

After the school shooting, Evelyn finds out about John Toland.

CHAPTER NINE

The little girl stopped in front of Evelyn and looked up. "I know you."

"Yes, Leyla. My name is Evelyn. We met at your house yesterday. You seemed to be very upset."

"I was?" The question seemed an honest one. The child shifted gears. "And you were there when my mommy tried to hurt me."

Melanie looked shocked. Evelyn ignored her and squatted down to look Leyla in the eye. "Yes, I was there. How are you doing?"

"The man was yelling my name."

"What man?"

"The man with the gun."

"In the school?"

Leyla nodded.

"Are you sure?"

The girl nodded again. "I wanted to go ask him why he was yelling my name, but Ms. Jansen wouldn't let me. She told me to stay very quiet."

"And you did what Ms. Jansen told you to do?"

One last nod.

"That was the right thing to do."

"You stay away from her!" Evelyn jerked to her feet to see Leyla's grandmother crossing the parking lot.

Evelyn didn't wait for the confrontation to come to her. "Mrs. Marshall, your granddaughter has experienced a second event in three days. I strongly recommend that you take her to a doctor."

"I'll take her to church tonight. We'll pray her through this."

"Ma'am, your prayers are, of course, valuable but I still recommend that she see a medical professional."

Rachel took her granddaughter's hand. "I'll give it some thought."

She then took Leyla and headed back toward an older Buick with a dented rear panel and rust showing around the bumpers. The little girl never looked back.

Evelyn turned and took a step toward the school when she saw Amanda walking her way. Amanda called out, "Evelyn, can I speak with you for a moment?"

"What's wrong?" Evelyn asked. Amanda wasn't supposed to be there.

Amanda looked past Evelyn to Melanie. "Take over here. I need to speak with Evelyn for a moment. She then shifted back to Evelyn. "Follow me. There's something I need to tell you."

Evelyn looked back at Melanie and the empty-faced kids. "Okay."

The two women made their way through the confusion to Amanda's car. Amanda turned on the engine after they were both inside. Warm air flowed around their feet. The older woman seemed to be struggling to find words. Seeing her superior so obviously nervous, Evelyn's tension ratcheted up.

"What is it? What's happened?"

"Your officer, John Toland was shot during the exchange with the shooters."

Evelyn stopped. "Shot? Is he okay?"

"The ambulance just left. They're taking him to Summit Hospital."

"I need to go!"

"He's a cop. He'll have a good support network. They'll be there for him and his family."

"I need to be there. Take me there."

The drive was just a few minutes, and Amanda started looking for a parking spot in the crowded lot.

Evelyn's impatience boiled over. "You can just let me out here. I'll Uber home."

"I'm glad to wait with you."

"You're needed back with the team." Evelyn wanted this silly exercise in politeness to be over so she could get inside.

"Thanks. I'll head back to the school and make sure all the children are handled safely. We can meet up later at the CTC."

She dropped Evelyn near the crowded entrance. Evelyn wound her way through the various vehicles and into the building. She was stopped at the door and had to show identification. The emergency room was laid out long and skinny. She made her way through the first waiting area, looking for someone that might be there for Toland. She saw three cops sitting together and didn't recognize them. She thought about approaching them but instead sat nearby to overhear any news that might be brought out.

Over the next few minutes, four more officers arrived. They spoke among themselves, and she could make out occasional snippets. The first shooter had been killed but there had been a second that had shot Toland. The second shooter had gotten away.

They all stood when a woman of about John's age was brought in with three teenagers. Evelyn realized that Toland had never shown her pictures of his family. But the deference with which the newcomers were treated by the cops confirmed who they were.

One of the cops came over and stood next to her. "Are you the social worker that rode with John?"

The refusal to use the title co-responder or partner irked her but she swallowed it. "Yes. I am."

He returned the nod. "Thank you for coming." He turned and returned to the group. She was a guest here, nothing more.

She sat there, alone on the edge of the growing crowd, for over an hour. Doors opened and doctors and nurses came and went. Each time, a hush settled over the room, and each time a collective sigh was released when the medical professional passed on through. When a news bulletin about the school shooting came on the television, one of the officers stood up and monkeyed with it until it shut off.

Time dragged.

After two hours, a nurse came out and waded into what had become a sea of blue uniforms and leaned over Toland's wife, speaking softly. Mrs. Toland stood and was led by the nurse from the room.

Evelyn watched as several of the officers dropped to a knee around the family and soft words were spoken. All eyes were shut. They were praying. Was God even listening? And, if so, did He care?

Another twenty minutes passed, and the same nurse came out and gathered up Toland's children. They, too, were taken back. The room with over thirty people jammed into it was utterly silent and still. They all knew the answer. John Toland was dead.

John's family was with the doctors. His police comrades-in-arms were gathered together, consoling and commiserating. And then there was Evelyn. There was nothing she could do, no words she could say, and no one to whom she could say them. She was an outsider that didn't belong. Death was intensely personal, and she was a trespasser.

She got up and left.

Now she was alone with her thoughts, which was not the place she wanted to be. She should have spoken with Toland's wife... shouldn't she? But what could she have said? It would have forced the woman into pleasantries with a stranger. It would have been presumptuous... inappropriate. No, not inappropriate, but not right, either.

Why was she making this about herself? A family had lost their husband and their father. She was nobody, the representative of a program that was imposed on John Toland by a city with overcrowded jails and a public perception problem. He had never complained and had always been polite and even seemed to try and make the best of things. But she was an assignment, nothing more, a requirement of his job.

The weather was taking a turn and a lightning flash made her blink as she left the building, and rain began falling in perfect cadence with her stepping out from under the emergency room entry canopy. She forgot where she had parked her car in the huge lot and just began walking. She first felt the cold water streaming down her neck and then her hair began matting down to the top of her head and sticking to her cheeks. Pulling it away, she stuck the limp strands behind her ears as she splashed through a puddle and slipped in the mud. Her twisting effort to stay on her feet tweaked her ankle slightly and she began to limp.

The temperature had dropped ten degrees in the last hour, and the relentless blasts of wind and rain sapped the heat from her body. Her upper torso began shivering. Standing in the middle of the parking area, she began to slowly turn, looking for her car... or looking for the company car.

That is when she remembered that Amanda had dropped her off and her car wasn't there.

And that is when she began to cry. She continued crying as she made her way back to the lobby where the air conditioning was on for some reason which took her focus off her plight and onto her wet clothes and the cold air being blown past by the powered fans of the HVAC system. Her tears were washed away and any damage to what little make-up she wore would be attributed to the rain.

She pulled up her Uber app, stared at it for a second, and then put it away. She called Chris Leighton.