Page 64 of Dying Truth
‘My husband tried to insist that Carrie return to Heathcrest, but I wouldn’t budge and that was the end of my marriage.’
‘Your marriage broke up because of your daughter’s education?’ he asked, incredulously. Surely there could have been a compromise?
‘No, our marriage failed because only one of us cared about the safety of our daughter.’
Dawson sat forward. ‘Please go on, Mrs Phifer.’
‘Carrie did not wish to return to the school, but Douglas was insistent. It was his old school and he believed heartily in their ability to educate. I hated boarding schools but went along with it as long as Carrie was happy, but she didn’t want to return. She was terrified, and Douglas was unused to not getting his way. His lawyer was much better than mine,’ she said, looking around the room. ‘What broke our marriage was his insistence she go back even though she became hysterical at the very mention of it.’
‘Mrs Phifer, what happened at Heathcrest to make your daughter so frightened?’
‘She received a card. The ace of diamonds. They have exclusive clubs there that—’
‘I know about the clubs,’ he said.
‘Then you’ll know that most kids will do anything to join these groups?’
He nodded, remembering his conversation with Stacey.
‘She was tasked to perform an initiation rite of doing continual star jumps until she was told to stop.’ Mrs Phifer closed her eyes. ‘Nine minutes she managed. When she slowed down her calves were hit with a garden cane. She tried to explain, she tried to tell them, but they wouldn’t listen. They wouldn’t let her stop.’
‘Tell them what, Mrs Phifer?’ he asked.
‘That she was asthmatic, officer. Eventually she collapsed and almost died. She was on a ventilator for two and a half weeks.’
Damn it, Dawson thought. This was exactly what he’d been afraid of.
‘And the school’s response?’ he asked, fearing the worst.
A look of total disgust shaped her attractive features.
‘As far as they were concerned the incident never happened.’
Forty-Three
An overwhelming sadness stole over Kim as her eyes rested on the sheet that smothered the small form on the metal tray.
She glanced at the back of Keats who fiddled with something over at his desk. Yeah, he gave her shit, and plenty of it. But this week his career of choice had dictated that he cut open and dissect the bodies of two children.
She had the sudden urge to tell him that she understood. That she knew that neither the job description nor the training could ever prepare you for the reality. That they had both signed up to represent the dead and neither of them got to choose. She wanted him to know that she got it.
She opened her mouth to speak.
‘There is no doubt this boy died of anaphylactic shock,’ Keats said, beating her to it.
Yes, probably better that way.
He peeled back the sheet to reveal ShaunCoffee-Todd’s face, and pointed to the mouth.
‘His lips and tongue are blue, indicating respiratory collapse. As he couldn’t get air into the lungs the blood couldn’t be oxygenated. The heart muscle needs oxygen to pump the blood around the body.
‘Once one major organ of the body starts to falter, in turn others become strained until they are unable to function. Death is the result of such a catastrophic systems failure. Low blood pressure occurs then eventual circulatory collapse are the final events.’
‘How long did it take him to die?’ Kim asked, quietly.
‘If the shock only affects the respiratory system it may cause respiratory depression and later brain damage in three minutes and death a few minutes later; but death comes quicker if the shock leads to arrhythmia, which it did in this case.’
‘So, how long?’ she asked again.
