In a facility like this, Eve imagined the scans probably worked ninety percent of the time. In the state schools of her education, they hadn’t worked ninety percent of the time.
So money, as money could, brought a certain edge of safety.
At the same time, she imagined the system could be caused to jam or hiccup by a five-year-old with reasonable e-skills.
“Let’s have EDD go over this security. Dig down in it to see if it blipped at any time.”
Her bootsteps echoed as she walked the halls. Empty schools were like haunted houses, she thought. If you listened you could hear the sound of voices, the rush of bodies. Generations of kids, she imagined, trooping along in whatever footwear met the current fashion criteria.
She stopped at the nurse’s station, unlocked the door. Inside was a short counter, a stool behind it, a comp unit. There were four chairs and two cots covered with crisp white linens.
Under the counter were standard first-aid supplies. Packs of Nu Skin, cold packs, heat packs, temperature gauges, a home version of the suture wand the MTs carried. Gauze, swabs.
In a drawer, neatly stowed, were diagnostic aids for checking pulses, pupils, ears, throats. As innocuous as they were, she had to block a shudder.
Medicine in any form wigged her.
All drugs—kid-and adult-dose blockers, nausea remedies, fever reducers, cold tabs—were under lock in a cabinet that required a master like hers or a thumbprint and code.
Nothing inside fit her requirements. Though she did study the individually wrapped pressure syringes.
As far as she could see, Nurse Brennan ran a tight ship. Tight, safe, and secured.
Since the comp was passcoded, Eve tagged it for EDD.
“Kind of creepy in here, isn’t it?” Peabody said from behind her.
“Schools are always creepy. Anything fun in Mosebly’s office?”
“Nothing jumped, but I tagged the electronics, and boxed up her disc files. She had the blockers—case we saw her use earlier—and a couple of soothers in stock. Tagged her admin’s stuff, too. Just in case.”
“Good. Let’s go back through the lockers in the fitness area. And just for jollies, we’ll go through the kids’ lockers.”
“All of them? It’ll take hours.”
“Then we’d better get started.”
She could have called a team in, probably should have. They found a mountain of discs, a good chunk of them graphic novels rather than textbooks. Enough candy and salty treats to stock the shelves of a 24/7, memo cubes, comp games, moldy apples.
Flashlights, hairbrushes, lip dye, art supplies, an ancient sandwich of indeterminate origin. Doodles, sketches, empty wrappers, a number of mittens and gloves, neck scarves and caps.
Photographs, music vids, smelly socks, fashionable sunshades, broken sunshades, loose credits, and a forest of chewed-on pencils.
They also found a bag of poppers and three joints of zoner.
“Jesus.” Peabody shook her head. “Oldest kid in this place is barely thirteen.”
Eve noted down the locker numbers, confiscated the illegals. “Top dealer when I was in fifth, or maybe it was sixth grade was an eight-year-old named Zipper. You wanted it, he’d score it.”
“I never even saw a popper until I was sixteen.” Then Peabody waited while Eve answered her ’link.
“Dallas.”
“Reo. Warrant’s in on Mosebly. Took a little time as she tried to block. Still working on Straffo. He’s having a lot more luck bogging the works. You’re not going to get that one through tonight.”
“We’ll start with Mosebly. Thanks.” She clicked off. “Match the locker numbers with the students on those illegals, Peabody. Don’t file anything yet. We’ll talk to them first.”
“Parental notification?”