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Geoffry hadn't been able to think of anything other than Melody's plight with the three girls since he'd shared her dreams. Even his own personal situation hadn't made the vampire feel quite as helpless as what was happening to Melody. Geoffry's plan to help had seemed much more reasonable before he'd spent several hours sitting out in the uncomfortable sunlight. He wish that he'd thought to pull the names of the three girls from Melody's mind when he'd followed her to school.
Well, nothing to do but press on. If all else fails I suppose I can always try again tomorrow.
Shrugging slightly, Geoffry stood and walked towards the main entrance of the school, which looked like it had probably been a shiny marvel back twenty years ago, but now just looked run down and decayed. As the vampire stepped inside the building, a middle-aged man who managed to look stern despite a heavily-receding hairline intercepted him.
“Are you a parent?”
Geoffry reached out with his mind, worming tendrils of thought into the man's subconscious as he pulled a leather wallet from his coat pocket.
“NYPD. I need to question some of your students about a sensitive matter.”
Sight of the nickel badge initially garnered the incredulous response that Geoffry had expected, but he ruthlessly suppressed the thoughts he didn't want before they made it to the forefront of the man's brain.
It's real. Nothing to do but cooperate and hope he doesn't cause too many problems.
Geoffry repeated the mental suggestion and was rewarded with a shift in the other man's thoughts.
“I won't take up too much of your time, but I'll need to see your records to identify the students in question. If you'll point me towards the office and let them know I'm on my way, I'll be out of your hair before you know it.”
The thoughts flowing through the link took on worries about students rights, and possible repercussions, but Geoffry rooted out the assistant principles concerns and replaced them with the idea that really it was the principal's job to worry about that kind of stuff.
After a moment's hesitation, the other man reached down to his side and pulled out a walkie-talkie. “Beth, I'm sending a detective down to you guys. Please let Principal Sorensen know he's on his way, and ask if he can go through the picture files we keep on the students.”
Geoffry suppressed the sigh of relief that tried to give him away, and instead gave the assistant principle a casual nod. “Thanks, and the office is...?”
After walking down the tiled halls in the direction he'd been pointed for a couple minutes, Geoffry's senses picked up a gathering of minds that looked like it was probably what he was looking for.
Upon entering the office, Geoffry found himself confronted by a number of giggling high school girls, and three middle-aged ladies. The two casually dressed ladies had taken up positions behind the large counter that seemed to serve as a barricade to keep any irate students at arms length, while the third lady was obviously waiting for Geoffry to appear.
“Who the hell do...” the principal cleared her throat and then began again. “I mean why are you here, and why wasn't I notified you were coming?”
Geoffry's thoughts had already reached out and wormed his way into the tightly organized mind before him, so he knew exactly why the principal cleared her throat, and it was all he could do not to blush at the thoughts that were darting across the link. Is that what Venice is thinking about all the time she's with me?
“Principal Sorensen I presume?” Geoffry flashed what he hoped was a winning smile, as he mentally reached to turn up the attraction flowing down the link towards him. The annoyance that had been predominant just a second ago was already melting away.
Can it really be all that wrong? It's the only way to make sure that Melody isn't hassled so much.
Realizing that the principal was still waiting for him to answer her question, Geoffry continued. “I'm Allen Smith, NYPD. I apologize for the unusual circumstances surrounding my visit, but the answers to your question are somewhat confidential, would it be possible for us to step into your office.”
Geoffry had actually just been trying to stall for time to think of a reason he was here, but the sudden increase in desire he was feeling through the link told him he'd hit on one of the best possible suggestions he could have made.
Maintaining a slightly irritated exterior that was corresponding less and less with what she was actually feeling, the principal led Geoffry to her office, invited him to sit down, and then instead of taking a position behind her desk chose a seat only a few feet from him.
“Officer Smith, I'm sure you understand my position in all of this. We can hardly allow actions that could result in any kind of outcry that student's rights had been violated.”
Apparently the attraction isn't quite strong enough to do the trick, that or she's normally such a bulldog that she's being incredibly accommodating now in comparison to how she'd normally treat an interloper.
“Please, call me Allen. Of course I understand completely the situation you find yourself in. Trying to balance the rights of the students with their need for oversight and guidance is a task I don't envy you.”
Now, I just need to fuzzy up her recollection of whatever laws might apply and leave her with a solid belief that we've adequately discussed the relevant points, and that she's completely covered from a liability standpoint.
“...so you see, Principal, although a case could be made for prosecuting the girls, we have much bigger fish to fry, and we'll forgo collecting any evidence that the DA's office could use against them. I just need to question them so that we can get a bead on who else is involved. We really need to trace this thing back to whoever is really calling the shots.”
The principal was slowly nodding now as she tried to consider what Geoffry had said through the artificial haze he'd placed over her thoughts.
“Please call me Julia, Allen.”
No, don't think about getting a signed statement outlining what I just said. Thoughts about the parents coming unglued are right out too.
“That sounds entirely reasonable. I'll show you our records myself.”
The search through the student records took longer than Geoffry had hoped, but that was probably more as a result of Julia standing over his shoulder sending affectionate thoughts his way than anything else.
Of course if you hadn't had to all but disconnect her higher brain functions to get what you were after, then that probably wouldn't have been a problem.
After searching through about half of the female students in the school, Geoffry found one that looked familiar. Hmm, I suppose if you idealized this face a little, kind of the opposite from the way that Melody viewed her self as being unattractive, you might arrive at what I saw in her mind the other night.
“Can you please pull up the pictures of all the females that have a class with this student, as well as the total number of classes they have in common?”
Only two other girls shared every class with the first girl, and they also bore more than a passing resemblance to the other girls from Melody's dream, so Geoffry pointed them out to the principal.
“Would it be possible to have these three girls pulled out of class and isolated so that I can speak with them individually?”
It took longer than Geoffry expected, but eventually he found himself alone in a dingy room with the girl that had seemed to be the ringleader in the dream.
I even managed to convince Julia that she didn't need to be present during the questioning, which helps to no end. It is going to be plenty hard enough to pretend to carry on a conversation with one person while messing with her thoughts, I don't think I could manage two at once.
Cindy proved to be shallow and entirely self-centered, in short pretty much exactly what Geoffry had been expecting from Melody's dream. At least she's also none too bright, that should make things a bit easier too. It is hard to believe this girl is the same age as Melody. She has none of the maturity I found in Melody's mind, but then again she's probably never had to worry about anything more traumatic than picking out an outfit for a dance.