Chapter 45
CHAPTER
Benjamin Meyers
BULLOCK COUNTY HIGH SCHOOL UNION SPRINGS, ALABAMA
Benjamin Meyers parked directly across from the sign—BULLOCK COUNTY HIGH SCHOOL—with its image of the school mascot, a hornet. A big one, with human fists and a prominent stinger and a scowl on its face.
Meyers checked the time on his car clock. 3:29. Almost time for the bell.
While he waited, Meyers studied the exterior of the building.
The one-story structure was in a state of disrepair.
Student body was small—less than one hundred per class—and enrollment was declining.
He’d done some research. The school had a demographic mix of races.
Achievement test scores were nothing to brag about.
Occasionally, BCHS lucked into a winning athletic team.
They’d won a state championship a while back, got a new gymnasium built in the flush of that achievement.
It was the only construction update the building could boast.
Meyers heard the bell ringing inside. He stepped out of his car. The students were coming out, walking in clusters. He looked for groups of boys. Didn’t want to approach any girls. Ben wasn’t inclined to land himself in a jail cell.
Meyers knew that BCHS students were required to wear uniform polos, in class colors. White for freshmen, gray for sophomores, black for juniors, gold for seniors.
The color-coding made his prospecting a little easier.
Meyers let the clusters of tall guys in gold pass him by. He had a feeling they wouldn’t engage. At seventeen or eighteen, males weren’t likely to confess to activity that would constitute a crime. Especially a sex crime. Especially a sex crime involving a minor.
Meyers let the freshmen pass, too. They wouldn’t be at the top of the information pyramid.
He aimed for the middle.
There!
He spotted a small group of boys, some in gray shirts, some in black. They were walking fast, jostling and shoving one another. Meyers had to jog a bit to catch up. When he got within hailing distance, he called out, “Hey! Can I talk with y’all a minute?”
The guys kept moving, kept talking. But one turned around, checked Ben out. “Yeah? What do you want?”
“Wanna ask you about a girl.”
That got everybody’s attention. The whole group stopped and turned around. Meyers pulled out his cell phone and pulled up an image from Instagram. It was Nova Jones’s eighth-grade school picture. No telling who’d originally posted it.
He held up his screen. “Y’all know this girl?”
They all leaned in. One kid—short, with a high-pitched, prepubescent voice—spoke up. “Aw, shit, man—that’s Nova Jones!”
His friends groaned, made weird faces and guttural animal sounds. Ben had to speak up to be heard. “Any of you ever hang out with her?”
“Hell, no.” A Black dude in sophomore gray, the tallest in the group. Rail thin, wearing a pair of high-water khaki pants he’d outgrown. “I wouldn’t screw that girl with somebody else’s dick.”
Meyers kept a poker face. Interesting that “hanging out” went right to sex. “Who do you see her hanging out with? Partying with?”
Meyers saw another kid sizing him up. White guy, a junior in a black shirt. Blond hair, athletic build. Had a suspicious air.
The kid narrowed his eyes. “You a cop or something?”
“No, I’m the opposite of a cop. I’m a lawyer. I’m just trying to find out about Nova.”
The blond kid had a swagger. “If you’re not a cop, maybe you shouldn’t be hanging around a school. Asking weird questions.”
The blond kid had a sidekick. Shaggy-haired, squirrelly, with a case of cystic acne. “Yeah, why you hanging around here?”
The tall Black guy looked around, like he was checking for a camera. “You on TikTok? Is this for a podcast? I don’t hang out with Nova, she too young. Too thicc, got that big back. Not hot enough for me. But she’ll do it with anybody. That’s what I hear.”
Again with sex, Meyers thought. These guys seemed to have a one-track mind, at least where Nova Jones was concerned. “Okay, but who’s she with? Specifically?”
“Everybody!” The short kid stepped close to Ben. His face was lit up. “Go ahead, dude! Put me on the podcast. Nova Jones sleeping with everybody! She don’t care if she even knows their name!”
“Ever seen her at a party?” Meyers asked.
A bunch of the kids chimed in all at once. “What party?” “Where’s the party?” “I wanna go!”
Meyers was getting nowhere. He needed to pin something down. Anything. “Okay. Let me get specific. Do any of you know of anyone who says he had sex with Nova Jones last year?”
The blond kid in the black shirt started smirking. “I heard she went down on the whole basketball team.”
Another kid scoffed. “That’s a lie, that some crazy bullshit. Nova Jones always babysitting, dragging these brothers and sisters around. How she gonna hook up with everybody on the basketball team?”
Blond kid said, “I heard it! I swear!” He raised his right hand, like he was taking an oath. Meyers caught a brief glimpse of a symbol burned into his forearm but couldn’t make it out. Looked like a letter.
“I heard that, too,” added another kid. “Nova Jones, she’s the biggest whore in town.”
“Thanks, guys.” Meyers turned back toward his car.
Thanks for nothing.
He was halfway down the sidewalk when one of the boys shouted after him.
“Hey, dude! You want Nova’s number? Just call 4-1-7-I-M-A-H-O!”
Meyers unlocked his car, slid into the driver’s seat, and started it up.
The boys were still shouting. A couple of catcalls reached him. Suggestions of what Nova would do for a price.
“Shit,” Meyers muttered. He put the car in gear and pulled out. He was relieved to have the BCHS hornet in his rearview mirror.
He wished he’d never visited the school. It left him with a bad feeling. Like a storm was rolling in. The kind that turned the sky green and made even Alabama gators run for cover.