Public Service…today’s writing, unedited, incomplete…

Dr. Sara L. Sanchez, president of Southern U, sat behind a walnut desk and looked up as Rankin and I entered. Her brown eyes took us in, as she glared at us over the top of her horn-rimmed glasses. She gave us a tight lipped smile and motioned for us to sit in the chairs in front of her desk.


“Who are you?”


“I’m Detective Konan, this is Detective Rankin.”


“I’m Dr. Sanchez. What do you need, detective?”


“Well, I’m glad you asked. I left a message asking about an incident with a student named Chloe.”


“Did I return your call, detective?”


“No, you did not…”


“Then, I have nothing to say to you about an incident with ‘Chloe.’ Feel free to leave.”


Rankin looked at me and raised his eyebrows. He stood and moved toward the door, but I remained seated. Sanchez and I locked eyes.


“So help me God, if I find anything connecting Chloe to this school, your administration, your staff, heck even your janitors or teacher’s aides, I’m coming back in here, slapping you in cuffs, and dragging your skanky butt out in front of all of ‘em. At a minimum, I’m throwing you in jail for obstruction of justice.”


Sanchez’s mouth fell open, and I stood to leave. She cleared her throat, and I walked out her office. Rankin grinned at me when I slammed her door.


We walked down the long hallway and down the stairs to the guards. The one that led us upstairs signed us out.


“I’ve got a question for you two. Do you remember a student that caused an incident here by the name of Chloe Robbins?”


“What kind of incident?”


“She poisoned the cheerleader squad with hemlock.”


The youngest guard shook his head and said, “I started working here two weeks ago.” I looked at the other guard and he motioned toward the door. He walked out from behind the desk and motioned for us to follow him.

The guard stopped out of view of the cameras and said, “We don’t talk about that here, but yes, we had a student named Chloe that caused an incident here by that name.”


“Have you got proof?”


“Yeah,” the guard said, as he handed me a notepad. “Write down your email. I’ll send it to you.”


I wrote it down, and Rankin asked, “What’s the big deal about this chick? She no longer goes to school here.”


“It’s because she works here now,” the guard replied.

I shook my head and handed the guard his notepad. “That’s impossible. The only person who worked here was her sister, Wynette.”


“You don’t understand, detective. Wynette is Chloe, Chloe is Wynette. Two women living in the same body.”

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