“We’re in the process of checking phone records from her brother’s house. We’d like to look over your phone records as well.”

“Of course. Anything to find this monster.”

“Her brother said that she was boy crazy. Maybe she was on a secret tryst. Could she have been seeing someone without you knowing about it?”

“Like a boyfriend?”

“Yes, Mr. Klinghoffner, like a boyfriend.”

“It couldn’t have been anyone from here. None of our students have driver’s licenses.”

“And since when has that ever stopped a determined teenager from getting behind the wheel?”

Klinghoffner said, “It doesn’t, but these kids don’t have access to a car.”

“She was hit about five miles away from here. She could have taken a bus.”

He was straining with thought. “I’ll look into it.”

“Thank you,” I told him. “As I said before, I’m also here for another reason.”

Klinghoffner waited.

“I’m interested in Sarah Sanders … her baby’s father, actually. I think he might have been a student here. She mentioned a boy named David. Probably black. Possibly Down’s syndrome … or maybe mosaic. That’s when—”

“I know what mosaic is,” Klinghoffner interrupted. “Why do you ask?”

“Am I on the right track?”

“David Tyler … twenty-four, black, and yes, he was mosaic. Again, why do you ask?”

“And why do you refer to him in the past tense?”

“Because he dropped out of sight about six months ago. I tried very hard to locate him.” He was pained. “Did Sarah tell you something about him?”

“This is her story. They used to meet in a park and fool around. One day, about six months ago, a gang of boys caught them in the bathroom. They raped her, beat him up and dumped him in the trash. Sarah left the bathroom not knowing if David was dead or alive. She’s been keeping this inside, too scared to tell anyone. It only came up because we asked about the father when we interviewed her about the baby.”

It took him a while to answer. “And you think that this is true?”

“Would she have a reason to lie?”

“Yes, if she was having sex. That’s against the rules here. Maybe she felt a rape would get her off the hook.”

“But then what happened to David?”

Klinghoffner sat back and sighed heavily. “David never lived here, Officer Decker. He was pretty high functioning, as mosaics often are. He had his own apartment, knew the bus lines, and was able to get from point A to point Z pretty well. He was able to do this because his life was very circumscribed.”

“If he was high functioning, what was he doing here?”

“He had a job. We used to have an art therapist, but budget cuts put a stop to that. David could draw and didn’t demand much in the way of salary. And being who he was, he worked well with the other residents. He was well liked.”

“By Sarah Sanders?”

“By everyone.” Klinghoffner’s lower lip trembled. “David was independent … but he was less than completely responsible. He often missed days … one day, two days. When he missed a week, I grew concerned. I went over to his place, knocked on the door, and when he didn’t answer, I opened it with the key.”