DEATH IN PERSPECTIVE by Larissa Reinhart

a similar pace to Laurence
     Mayfield. “My name’s Cherry Tucker. Are you with Line Creek PD? Actually, my grand d addy’s good friend is Sheriff Will Thompson. You know him?”
    The officer smiled. “Sure, I know Thompson. Tell him Detective Daniel Herrera said
     hey.”
    “I sure will. Looks like you’re confiscating some evidence. Is this in relation to
     the Maranda Pringle suicide?”
    Detective Herrera pivoted and stopped in front of me. “What do you know about Maranda
     Pringle?”
    “Nothing, really,” I said. “I just started here yesterday and found out same as everyone
     else. I’m going to do art work for Mr. Tinsley and he’s worried about the texts going
     around.”
    “Is he now?” Herrera’s face remained impassive, but I was tuned to cop behavior. I’d
     just put Tinsley on a person of interest list. “Why’s that?”
    “He didn’t say, but seems it’s common knowledge that Miss Pringle got a revealing text that might ’ ve pushed her over the edge.”
    “Be careful with rumors,” said Herrera. “They often turn out not to be true.”
    “Yes, sir. But what about in Pringle’s case? Did she get a text? Maybe if it was known
     her suicide had nothing to do with the text attack, everyone will feel better.”
    “Nice try . ” Herrera smiled. “I’ll tell you this. Pringle was a troubled woman. And don’t worry
     about the text prankster. Probably some kid with his own issues.”
    “Are you Line Creek boys using a code name for the anonymous texter?” I grinned. “I’ve
     heard some creative codes used by the Sheriff’s Department.”
    “If it was code, what would be the point in telling you?” Herrera chuckled and shifted
     the computer.
    “Mr. Tinsley calls him the Phantom, after the Phantom of the Opera . There’s some connection , but I’ve never seen the play.”
    Herrera smiled. “I like that. The Phantom Texter. Don’t spread it around, though.
     The kids will probably think it sounds cool and a mess of copycats will start.”
    “Yes, sir.” I saluted him. “Speaking of copycats, you think there’s any connection
     to the Ellis Madsen suicide last year?”
    Herrera’s smile flipped to a scowl. “No, I don’t think there’s a connection. That
     was a case of cyberbullying and a teen whose parents didn’t check her computer or
     phone to see what was going on in her life. These parents are too concerned with respecting
     their kids’ privacy and not enough for their safety.”
    “Pretty bad, was it?”
    He looked past me. The lines around his eyes and mouth tightened and lengthened. “No
     one stood up for Ellis Madsen. She felt completely alone in those attacks. Her friends
     abandoned her, fearing they’d get made fun of, too. Assholes , every one of them.”
    “So, Miss Pringle’s text was completely different?”
    He lost the far-off, pained gaze and settled his sharp, brown eyes on me. “Are you
     this nosy with Sheriff Thompson’s cases?”
    I laughed. “Pretty much. But I figure there must be something to this Phantom Texter
     or you wouldn’t be confiscating computer equipment.”
    “Didn’t say this had anything to do with anything. Maybe I like to carry around computers
     for kicks.” He hoisted the hard drive to his hip and pointed to the office. “Go get
     your building pass, hon’.”
    “See you around, Detective Herrera.”
    He smiled and trudged toward the front doors.
    Herrera worried about copycats and called the Phantom a prankster. But he didn’t deny
     that Pringle had gotten a message from the Phantom. I needed to know how many other
     faculty members had gotten texts, too.

      
    When I had finally stumbled through the theater wing doors with the proper identification
     hanging around my neck, I found Laurence lying on a bean bag, reading a book. He didn’t
     look up from the book, but pointed toward the far left set of doors. I pushed through
     and found myself in yet another hall of doors. Some had gold stars.