"Have You Seen Her?" - читать интересную книгу автора (Rose Karen)Chapter Three Twenty-seven down, three to go. And Brad Thatcher's would be one of the three. Casey's hand appeared over the top of the leaning stacks of folders and grabbed another theme paper, sending the stack swaying. Standing, Jenna grabbed the closest stack to avert certain disaster. "Don't even think about it," Casey snapped, not even looking up from her grading. "Dammit!" Lucas bit out. "Just put them back and nobody gets hurt," Casey continued, as if Lucas hadn't spoken. Jenna looked up in time to see Lucas's putt go wide, winced, meekly put Casey's folders back, and sat down. "Sorry, Lucas." "It's okay," Lucas responded glumly. "I wasn't going to make it anyway." "What about me?" Casey demanded from behind the wall of folders. "I didn't do anything to you," Jenna shot back. "I was just trying to bring some order into chaos." She waved her hand at Casey's leaning stacks. "You are a disorderly person." "And Casey's hand appeared to grab another theme. "Why are you procrastinating, Jen? That's not like you." Lucas slid down in his chair. "Because she doesn't want to grade Brad Thatcher's chemistry test, because she knows he probably failed it, and she knows contacting his father about his sudden personality changes is the right thing to do, but she's scared to call any more parents because Rudy Lutz's father cussed her out on Wednesday"-he drew a deep breath- "for failing Rudy in remedial science and getting him suspended from the football team," he finished. And exhaled. Jenna looked at him in annoyed admiration. "How do you do that?" Lucas grinned. "I have a wife and four daughters. If I don't talk fast, I'd never get anything out." Casey's chair scraped against the tile floor and her blond head poked up from behind the paper wall. Five feet tall on her tiptoes, she was only visible from the chin up. "Brad Thatcher failed his chemistry test?" Her brows scrunched, making her look like a profoundly perplexed disembodied elf. "Are we talking about Jenna looked down at the purple folder, sobering. "Yes, only he's not the same Brad. Not anymore. He got a "Jenna." Lucas shook his head, taking on the quiet, thoughtful persona that made him a wonderful mentor to new teachers like herself. "Just do it. Then we'll talk about what to do next." So Jenna grasped her red pen firmly, opened the purple folder, and found Brad's test at the bottom of the thin pile. Her heart sank as she marked an "x" next to every question, feeling hopelessness mount with each one. Brad had been her most promising student. Bright, articulate, a veritable shoo-in for a prestigious scholarship sponsored by a group of Raleigh companies. He'd all but thrown that opportunity away. One more test like this and he'd fail her class, jeopardizing his chances at admission to the top colleges he'd chosen. And she had no idea why. With another sigh she wrote "I didn't think I'd ever put an Lucas picked up Brad's test and flipped through the pages, her concern mirrored in his dark eyes. "I don't know, Jen. Sometimes kids have problems with girlfriends. Sometimes their problems are at home. But you're right. 1 never would have expected Brad to change like this." "You think he's into drugs?" Casey asked soberly, voicing their collective fear. "We all know it can happen to kids from good homes," Jenna answered, slipping Brad's test back into the purple folder. "I guess I need to call his father, but I'm not looking forward to it, not after breaking the news to Rudy Lutz's dad that his son flunked his last test and is on the bench until he pulls up his grade." Casey came around the table and half sat against the edge closest to Jenna's chair. "Mr. Lutz let you have it, huh?" Jenna felt her gut chum just remembering. "I learned some new words during that phone call." She managed a weak grin. "It was certainly educational. I just feel so helpless with Brad, watching him throw his life away like this. There's got to be something I can do." Casey's eyes narrowed. Quick as a flash her small hand shot out and grabbed Jenna's chin. "There is. You call his parents, offer your support, then you step back, Jen. You aren't the savior of the world. He's not one of your pound puppies you can save from the needle. He's a high school senior with enough brains to make his own choices. There's nothing you can do to force him to make the right ones. That's just a cold reality of life. Understand?" Casey had always assumed the role of Jenna's protector, ever since their college days at Duke. It was really quite comical as Jenna towered over Casey's petite frame. Mutt and Jeff they'd been called in college and it was a fair description. Jenna tall and dark, Casey small and blond. Casey, the perennial cheerleader and social butterfly; Jenna, much more quiet and reserved. Now, pushing thirty, Casey still played the mama tiger to perfection. Jenna had long since given up trying to dissuade her from it. "Yes, ma'am. You can let go now." Casey let go, still eyeing her uncertainly. "Let me know how the talk goes with his parents." Jenna found her list of students' parent or guardian contacts. "Brad only has a father." "His mother died about four years ago," Lucas offered. "Car wreck." Casey pushed her mouth into a thoughtful frown. "That alone's enough to impact a kid on top of what he went through last spring with his brother getting kidnapped and all. Look, I need to go. My fourth period's doing Lucas's lips twitched. "I know," he said soberly. "I won't, Casey." When the door closed, Jenna rolled her eyes. " "Yes, you do," Lucas said affably. "So does she. Are you sure you're not related?" "Positive. Casey's mother didn't eat her own young." Jenna turned her focus back to the parent contact information. "Brad's dad works for the State Bureau of Investigation. I bet contacting him is going to be difficult." "Probably." "He'll probably say he's not available, that he doesn't have time." "Possibly." Jenna glared over at him. He just stared back, smiling. "You are maddening, Lucas." "Marianne's told me that every day for twenty-five years." Jenna crossed her arms over her chest and sucked in one side of her cheek. "You know, as a mentor you really suck. Obi Wan told Luke Skywalker what to do." Lucas's salt-and-pepper mustache quivered. "Listen to the Force," he said in a deep voice, then raised a challenging brow. "So what will you do, young Jedi?" Jenna sighed. "I'm going to call his father," she answered irritably. "Then if his dad yells at me like Rudy Lutz's father did, I'll come and cry on your shoulder." Lucas stood up and patted her head. "My box of Kleenex has your name on it." It actually did. Her smile faded as inevitably her mind wandered. If only she and Adam had been lucky enough… But they hadn't been. She sat still, trying to remember the days when Adam was healthy, instead remembering those last days of his life she wished she could forget. She stiffened her back and shook her head, as if the memories could be shaken loose that way. Hardly. She made herself stand up. She only had a few more minutes left on her lunch break and she needed to call Brad Thatcher's father. Today. Before Brad slipped even further away. A second young girl stolen. A second family crushed. They'd caught a break in the case of Samantha Eggleston's disappearance, thanks to a four-year-old Lab named Pal, his eighty-year-old owner, and Sheriff Braden who'd secured the cnme scene and called the SBI posthaste Steven watched Kent search the ground once again on his hands and knees this time wearing a contraption over his head that made him look halt welder and half German spy, complete with mono cle In Kent's hands were tweezers and carefullv labeled plastic evidence bags Harry Grimes canvassed the outer perimeter next to the woods, just as carefully No one wanted any evidence lost. They might not get another chance to catch their prey Steven studied the scene with a clinical eye. It was a clearing, identical to the one where they'd found Lorraine Rush, surrounded by the pine trees that had given this suburb ot Raleigh its name Pineville, North Carolina. Soon this pretty little town would be known for a hell of a lot more than its Christmas tree farms. Soon it would be known as the hunting ground for a new serial killer Lorraine Rush found four days ago. Samantha Eggleston reported missing yesterday morning. Both pretty high school girls. Both missing from their beds in the middle of the night. No sign of forced entry or evidence of an intruder in either case.With the current facts in hand it seemed they were related Steven couldn't afford to think anything else until he proved otherwise The cleanng was deserted now but something had happened here within the last few hours. There was a patch of flattened grass, roughly five by three, which could have held a body at one point. It didn't now The area to one side of the flattened grass was spattered with blood-presumably from the dog that belonged to the owner of this land, although Kent would thoroughly check to make sure none of the blood was human-belonging to either the missing girl or her abductor. The blood trail went from the cleanng back to the owner's house, about a mile away on the other side of the trees, where the dog had shown up an hour before, stabbed and bleeding The old man had acted quickly, following the trail of blood from his house to the clearing. The man's old eyes were sharp-he'd noticed the scrap of white that fluttered beneath the graceful limbs of one of the pine trees. It was a pair of women's underwear, size four with delicate little flowers- the same size and pattern worn by Samantha Eggleston. The old man had immediately called the sheriff, who'd immediately called Steven. Kent sat back on his heels and pushed the monocle up and out of his line of sight. He glanced up briefly "I found a hair," he announced, deeply satisfied "Dark. Very straigh.t" Steven's pulse spiked and he gingerly approached the area of flattened grass Kent was still inspecting, avoiding the areas that were spattered with blood. Samantha Eggleston's hair was dark but very long and curly. That the single hair belonged to their perp was almost more than he would dare to hope. "Unbelievable I can't believe you found anything in all this mess. " Kent grinned before lowering the monocle and dropping back down to his hands and knees. "I'm good. " Steven shook his head "And humble. Don't forget about humble " "And humble," Kent added, now talking to the ground "Bullshit," Steven said mildly "Tell me that hair has a follicle and I'll buy that you're good. Otherwise you're just one more geek in a welder's mask." Kent chuckled "I wish I were a welder I'd probably make a hell of a lot more money." Steven crossed his arms over his chest "Stick with me, welder-boy Follicle or not?" Kent's smile dimmed "No. Sorry " "Dammit," Steven hissed. Without the follicle they'd have no DNA analysis. "Hold your horses," Kent said patiently. "I still may be able to get you a DNA print." "How many days?" Steven asked, gritting his teeth. "Seven to ten." Kent sat back on his heels again. "Where's the dog?" Steven looked over to one side where the sheriff stood with his arm around the shoulders of the dog's owner. "Probably back at the owner's house. The vet should be on his way to patch him up." He hoped the dog was treatable, for the old man's sake, but the Lab had lost a lot of blood during whatever altercation had occurred here in this clearing. "Why?" "I want to swab the dog's teeth." Steven's brows went up. "Why?" "If the dog bit your perp, there might be some skin cells lodged in his teeth." Steven reconsidered the young man who'd joined the SBI only a few months before. "Okay, I stand corrected. You are good. I wouldn't have thought to check the dog's teeth." Kent grinned again. "Can't take credit for that one. Saw it on Steven rolled his eyes. "Of course. We should bypass the academy and just make all our recruits watch "It'd save the taxpayers money," Kent said with another chuckle, his eyes glued to the grass. Steven smiled in spite of himself. He was finding he. Liked the young man's easy manner a whole lot more than Kent's boss's waspish edge. Kent's boss would have normally supervised an investigation of this magnitude, but Diane was currently sunning herself on a cruise ship. It gave Kent a chance to show his stuff and gave the rest of them a much-needed break from Diane. "I'll make sure the vet doesn't do anything that would compromise the dog's teeth." "Thanks. Tell the old man I won't hurt his dog," Kent added, dropping his head back down to search. Steven looked over to where Sheriff Braden and the old man stood silently watching on the other side of the yellow tape. "Any more than he's already hurt," Steven murmured. Sheriff Braden's eyes met Steven's and in them. Steven saw a wild mixture of abject anguish and terrified helplessness. Samantha Eggleston was Sheriff Braden's sixteen-year-old niece. Looking now at Braden's shoulders bowed in grief and terror, Steven felt a connection with the man that went past the polite but inadequate empathy law enforcement felt for the victim, past the kinship for a fellow cop. Steven knew how Braden felt. Knew how Braden's sister felt. Knew how it felt to live with the terror that a madman held your child. Steven carefully made his way to where Braden and the old farmer stood watching his approach. "We may have something," Steven said and Braden nodded, tight-lipped. "You did a good job in securing the crime scene. Mother Nature helped by holding off the rain," he added when Braden said nothing. Steven wasn't sure Braden could speak and Steven couldn't blame him. Braden had seen the dog's wounds, and undoubtedly his mind was conjuring every possible outcome while his heart broke at the mental picture of his niece at the mercy of a vicious abductor with a knife. Steven reached out and briefly clasped Braden's shoulder, meeting his eyes. "I'm sorry," he murmured. "I really do know how you feel." Braden swallowed hard. Cleared his throat. "Thanks," he managed. Then he straightened his back, lifted his chin, and dropped his arm from the old man's shoulders. "My men are chompin' at the bit for something to do here. Anything you guys need, just name it." Steven looked over his shoulder. Kent was still on his hands and knees while Harry was searching the woods. "I think the best thing would be to limit the number of feet trampling the crime scene at this point, but they could reassemble the search party. How many acres are here?" Braden deferred to the old man. "Bud?" "Three hunnerd and sixty-two," the old man answered without hesitation. His voice was stronger than Steven would have expected given the old man's whole body shook in constant trembles. One gnarled old hand gripped a cane. The other he stuck out in greeting. "Name's Bud Clary. I own this land." Steven shook the old man's hand. "I wish we were meeting under other circumstances, Mr. Clary. I do have a special request. Your dog, sir." One gray brow went up. "Pal?" Mr. Clary asked. " Yessir. We want to check his teeth when the vet is finished sewing him up. There might be some evidence there if Pal bit the person who stabbed him." "Hope he did," Clary muttered. "Hope he took a chunk outa the sonofabitch." "Me, too," Steven agreed grimly. "Sheriff, can you tell the vet not to touch Pal's mouth?" Braden was already moving toward his cruiser. "Will do." Steven turned back to Mr. Clary. "Do you need to sit down, Mr. Clary?" Steven gestured toward his car. "I have a folding chair in my trunk." Clary nodded and Steven quickly retrieved the chair and set it up. He'd sat in it next to every stream between Raleigh and William's Sound, fishing for whatever would take his bait. "It might smell a bit fishy," he said as Mr. Clary lowered himself into the chair. "It's okay, boy," Clary replied, attempting a tired smile. "So do I." He settled himself, then drew a deep breath. "I have Parkinson's and the shakes get worse when I'm stressed." He looked over his shoulder at Kent, still on his hands and knees in the middle of the bloody grass, then back at Steven, his old eyes clear and piercing. "Will you find Samantha, Agent Thatcher?" Clary shook his head. "Call me Bud. Callin' me Mr. makes me feel old." Steven smiled down at the old man. "Bud it is, then." He sobered and watched Bud Clary do the same. "Can you tell me what happened, sir?" Bud sighed. "Pal's always takin' off after a bird or a rabbit or somethin'. Sometimes he'll be gone for a couple hours at a stretch, so I didn't think anything about it when he took off about ten this mornin'." "You're sure about the time, sir?" Bud nodded. "I had to take my wife into town for some sundries. We left about ten and Pal followed us out of the house, then took off after a squirrel." He looked up, the midafternoon sun making his eyes squint. "You need to know where we went in town?" "Not right now, sir. What time did you get back?" "It was around twelve-fifteen. Pal was lying on the back porch, bloody and all tore up. The missus saw the trail of blood and right off thought to call the sheriff." Steven's lips curved at the obvious pride in Bud's voice. "Mrs. Clary's a sharp thinker." "Always has been," Bud answered with a satisfied nod. He thumbed over his shoulder. "I took the tractor across the field, following the blood trail until I got to the trees, then I walked the rest of the way till I got to this clearing. Took me twenty minutes or so from the house." He shrugged his thin shoul-ders. "Then I hightailed it back and called Sheriff Braden again and I guess he called you." Then they'd all driven to this clearing, accessing it from an unpaved dirt road that forked off the main highway. Which was how Samantha's abductor had brought her here. And taken her away. "What exactly did you see when you first got to the clearing?" Steven asked gently. Bud swallowed. "I knew I'd see some blood-Pal bleedin' like he was. I guess I didn't expect to see so much blood. I got off the tractor to see if there was anything else, then I saw somethin' white when I got closer." "Samantha's underwear?" They were in an evidence bag, on their way to the lab. The old man's jaw clenched. "Yeah. Her underthings were off to the side, blown under the limbs of one of those pine trees." "Did you touch anything, Bud?" Bud frowned up at him. "No, I did not," he replied indignantly. "I may be old, young man, but I'm far from stupid." "Sorry. I'm supposed to ask." Bud settled back into the chair, arms crossed over his chest, slightly mollified. "All right, then." "When you came close to the bloody area of grass, did you notice anything else?" Bud nodded, his ire suddenly cooled. "Yeah. The blood was still warm." Steven's brows came together. "I thought you said you didn't touch anything." "I didn't. I could smell it. I slaughtered pigs on this farm for fifty years, boy. I know the smell of warm blood." Steven drew in a breath and let it out. So close. Bud Clary must have stumbled on this clearing less than an hour after Pal was stabbed. At least they could pinpoint the time. Given twenty minutes from his house to the clearing, Bud would have arrived at twelve-thirty-five. That meant Samantha had still been here at eleven-thirty. "That's helpful, Bud." He pulled a business card from his pocket. "If you remember anything else, can you give me a call?" Soberly Bud took the card. "I will. Please find Samantha, Agent Thatcher. This is a small town. There's not a soul around that doesn't love Samantha Eggleston or her family. She baby-sits my great-grandbabies." Then he bitterly added the phrase Steven heard far too often. "This kind of thing just doesn't happen in Pineville. We're a peaceful town." Steven was walking back to the grassy area when his cell phone jangled. One glance at the caller ID told him it was his assistant. "Nancy, what's up?" Nancy Patterson had been his assistant since he'd been at his post. She'd been secretary to the special agent before him and the one before that. She was a computer whiz with invaluable experience and Steven trusted her as much as he trusted any woman. "You've had several calls from one of Brad's teachers." Her tone and his own growing worry over his oldest son made Steven stand straighter. About a month before, almost overnight, Brad had changed from a warm, happy boy to a sullen stranger. Any attempt to breach the wall Brad had built was met with sarcasm and anger. They'd been through teenage rebellion, years before. This was different. And now his teachers were seeing it, too. He forced his heart to calm. "What's wrong?" "She wouldn't tell me. She insists on speaking with you in person. She's called twice already since lunch. She's very… insistent." Steven looked around him. They were still gathering evidence and he needed to stay. But his son needed him more. "Did she leave a number where I can call her back?" "Just the school's main number. The first time she called on her lunch break, the second time between classes. She said she wouldn't be free again until four o'clock." Steven glanced at his watch. He could just about finish up here and make it to Brad's school by four. "Can you call the school and leave her the message that I'll meet her in the lobby at four?" "Cutting it a bit close, aren't you, Steven?" "Story of my life," he responded grimly. "Steven!" Harry yelled. "Come here!" Steven looked over to where Harry stood next to the road. "Nancy, I have to go. Tell Brad's teacher I'll meet her at four o'clock. Call me back if she says no. Oh, and, Nancy? Which teacher is this?" "Dr. Marshall. She's his chemistry teacher. Steven, are you okay?" Steven's mouth flattened. "Tell Lennie I'm fine," he said grimly. "I'm not planning to freak out and blow the investigation." "He doesn't think you will, Steven," Nancy admonished gently, making him feel like a truculent child. '"He's worried about you. So am I." Steven sighed. 'Tell him I'm fine. But if I feel stressed I'll go to Meg. Okay?" Meg was the staff psychologist who had continually pestered him to meet with her after Nicky. He'd finally gone, just to get the infernal woman off his back. But she'd helped. A bit. Offering to see her at this point should make Lennie Farrell a happy supervisor. "Okay. I'll call Brad's teacher. Dr. Marshall," she added, reminding him. She knew him well. "Thanks." Committing the name to memory, Steven slipped the phone into his pocket and carefully made his way to where Harry impatiently waited, holding a syringe in his gloved hand. "Damn," Steven muttered and looked back to the flattened grass, the shape of its perimeter clean. "That would explain no evidence of a struggle." "We'll get it back to the lab along with the hair." Harry gestured to where Kent was examining the trail of blood leading back to the house. "Kent wants to watch the vet swab the dog's teeth." Steven sighed. "I just hope we find a lead in a hurry. We're running out of time." "So, did you call Brad's dad?" Jenna looked up from cleaning lab tabletops to find Casey standing in the doorway of her classroom. "Kind of. He was out in the field, so I talked to his secretary. He's coming to meet me in"-Jenna checked her watch-"ten minutes." Casey's brows scrunched. "Out in the field?" "He's a cop." "Hmm." Jenna paused mid-scrub and looked up. Casey looked thoughtful and that was always a dangerous sign. "What?" Casey smiled and sent a chill down Jenna's spine. "I don't know. Cop, widower. Brad's a pretty good-looking kid, so Dad's got to have some good genes…" She shrugged. "Possibilities." Jenna shook her head, feeling a familiar tightening behind her eyes. Casey considered finding Jenna a mate one of her personal goals. Jenna walked to where Casey stood, deliberately towering over her. "Don't go there, Casey," she warned. "Promise me you won't do anything stupid." Casey stared up defiantly. "You're taller today." Jenna's eyes narrowed. "Because I'm wearing these damn shoes you convinced me would be perfect with this suit. My feet hurt and I don't have time for this right now. Promise. No contact with Mr. Thatcher. That includes telephone, telegraph, fax, sticky note, and smoke signals." Casey sulked. "I promise. Dammit." Jenna backed away. "Good." Gathering her papers into her briefcase, Jenna glanced over her shoulder to find Casey looking thoughtful again. Seeing Jenna's stare, Casey brightened. "I almost forgot. I have a date tomorrow night with Ned and he has a friend. I-" "No." Jenna cut her off with a shudder. Ned was adolescent on his best behavior, but his friends were worse. Casey frowned. "Why not?" "I'm having dinner at Allison's tomorrow night." Casey made a grumbly sound. "Blow her off. Ned's friend is really cute." "I can't just cancel on her. She'd be hurt."' "She has the hide of a rhino," Casey muttered. "You couldn't hurt her with an elephant gun." Jenna huffed a chuckle. "She's a lot more tender than she looks." Then she remembered the purpose of Allison's dinner and grew serious. "I can't cancel on her. Next week is the eighth of October." Casey put her small hand on Jenna's arm and squeezed gently. "I know what month it is," she said softly. "That's why I don't want you staying home by yourself. It's been two years since…" Jenna pulled her arm free, suddenly irritable. "Since Adam died. You can say the word. D-i-e-d. As you've pointed out, it's been two years. "I don't think you are, but there's nothing I can do about your being stuck in denial." Jenna shoved her desk drawer closed with far more force than was necessary. "I'm not in denial," she hissed. "Adam's dead. I was there holding his hand when he breathed his last, two years ago October eighth. I am not in denial." Casey set her lips in a firm line. "You're only thirty. You need to start living your life again." Jenna drew a careful breath. Counted to ten. Casey meant well. In fact, every one of her friends and family that told her to start living her life again meant well. "I have a very full life, Casey," she said evenly. "I don't need a steady stream of men on my arm to fill it any further." "No, you don't need a stream of men," Casey agreed quietly. "One would be enough." Jenna laughed, a hollow sound. "And I suppose you're going to find him for me?" Casey just looked at her in that way that cut through every defensive layer Jenna possessed. "So how about dinner on Sunday night? Or Monday or Tuesday?" Jenna sighed. "You're not going to give up, are you?" Casey's smile was triumphant. "Nope." "Where are we going?" "Italian. New place off Capitol. Be there at seven on Sunday?" Jenna didn't need to check her calendar to know she was free. Sunday nights normally found her in bed by nine with a good suspense novel, her two dogs curled up beside her. Who knew? Maybe this friend of Ned's would provide a pleasant evening of company. "Okay. But I'll drive myself so I can leave when I want to." Jenna glanced at her watch and gri-maced. "Shit. Now I'm late. You go ahead and if you see anyone remotely resembling a parent in the lobby, pass by without a smile or a nod. Understand?" "Yeah. Spoilsport." Casey started out the door, then turned around, an uncertain expression on her pixie face. "Hey, Jen? Did you say Brad's dad is a cop?" Something in Casey's face made Jenna's hands still. "Yeah? Why?" "Ask him if he knows anything about the missing girls." A feeling of dread settled in the pit of Jenna's stomach. "What missing girls? Last I heard there was only one missing girl-the one from High Point High that they found dead on Tuesday." "There's another," Casey murmured. "This one from DuVal High. It's been all over the news since last night." Jenna bit her lip. "I had karate last night and went right to bed when I came home. I didn't see the news. God, Casey, two girls? We need to warn our kids." "Lucas says he'll make an announcement on Monday telling all the girls to be careful," Casey said. "So ask Brad's dad if he knows anything more, okay? Anything we can do to keep our girls safe." "I will." Jenna glanced at her watch again. "But I can't if I don't meet him in three minutes. Go on now. I'll call you if I learn anything new." Now subdued, Jenna checked the lock on the chemical closet, locked the door of her classroom, adjusted the straps of both her purse and her packed-full briefcase, and set out for the front lobby at the fastest pace her high heels would allow. "Dr. Marshall, can I talk to you?" Jenna looked over as eleventh-grader Kelly Templeton fell in step beside her as she hurried down the stairs. "If you can run with me, you can." Kelly hastened her step. "It's about my test. I should get partial credit on four problems." Kelly Templeton always thought she should get partial credit. Rarely did Jenna agree. "Tell you what, Kelly. You come by Monday morning and we'll talk. Right now, I'm in a rush." "But Monday morning I have a cheerleading meeting." "I can talk at lunch on Monday, then. Just not now." She softened her refusal with a smile. "You got a ninety-two, Kelly. How much more partial credit can you expect?" "Eight more points," Kelly muttered, then tossed her long dark hair over her shoulder. "All right, Dr. Marshall. Monday at lunch." She veered off toward the lockers without a goodbye. "Kelly?" Jenna called and Kelly looked back, impatience on her young face. "Be careful, okay? Miss Ryan just told me there's a second missing girl." Kelly's eyes grew large. "Oh, wow. Which school?'" "DuVal." Kelly bit her lip. "That's close. I know kids at DuVal." Then a beat later her expression brightened as she shook off the worry as only a teenager could. "See ya, Dr. Marshall." And watching her flounce away, Jenna turned for the lobby at a quick clip on aching feet, wishing she had a tenth of the sixteen-year-old girl's energy. "Dr. Marshall, may I speak with you for a moment?" Jenna skidded to a stop, this time at the sound of the principal's voice, wincing when her ankle wobbled in her damn high heels. Last time she'd go shopping with Casey, she thought irritably, resisting the urge to hop on one foot and massage her ankle. Drawing in a breath to slow her racing pulse, she turned to find Dr. Blackman standing near the office door, his expression grim. Distaste instantly bubbled up at the sight of him. He was an overtly political man and… sleazy. "I'm late for a parent conference, Dr. Blackman. Can I meet you when I'm finished?" By that point it would be after five on a Friday. Blackman would be long gone by then, sitting on the front bleacher of the football game scheduled to begin in less than an hour. "This can't wait, Dr. Marshall," he answered, his voice glacial. "Come with me, please." And without waiting for her response, he turned crisply on his heel. Jenna searched the front lobby. No one resembling a parent waited, so she bit back her annoyance and followed Blackman into his office, hoping whatever was so cata-clysmically important would also be short. A man waited in Blackman's office, staring out the window with his back to them. He was huge, his shoulders at least two feet wide. A black fedora covered his head, a black overcoat draped over one arm. Jenna raised a brow at the sight of the coat. It was brisk for fall in North Carolina, but the coat was surely overkill. Then he turned and Jenna's heart stopped for the briefest of instants at the expression in his narrowed black eyes, the clench of his square jaw. His very body seemed to vibrate although he stood perfectly still. He was angry. He was angry with Dr. Blackman closed the door. "Dr. Marshall, this is Mr. Lutz. I take it you've met before?" Lutz's dark eyes flashed and his nostrils flared. "My son has been suspended from the team." "As dictated by school policy," Jenna supplied smoothly. And waited for Blackman to back her. And waited. The silence became stifling as she and Lutz continued to lock glares. "Perhaps young Rudy's test could be given another look," Blackman suggested from behind her, his tone artificially mild. "Perhaps his answers might have been… misinterpreted." Jenna slowly turned her head and stared at Blackman, for a moment too appalled for words. "It was a multiple choice and true-false test," she said coldly. "You know, Dr. Blackman's thin face became beet red. She noted his trembling hands just before he shoved them in his pockets. "Dr. Marshall, I don't think you fully appreciate the severity of this suspension, to both Rudy and the team." Lutz's square jaw tightened. He deliberately removed his hat, revealing well-tended dark hair, with the hint of silver at his temples. Lutz took a step forward and smiled. Chills ran up and down Jenna's arms. It was not a pleasant smile. This was intimidation, in its purest form. Jenna cleared her throat. "You do agree, don't you, Mr. Lutz?" she asked pleasantly. Lutz smiled again, a mere banng of teeth. "Miss Marshall-" " " "Now I see where your son has learned such impressive disrespect," she murmured, not breaking her gaze. Mr. Thug would look away first, because she sure as hell wasn't going to. Lutz took a step closer, the toes of his black wing tips even with her open-toed sandals. Now she was looking straight up as Lutz had a good five inches on her, even in her heels. "You don't seem to understand who I am, "The scout will not see him play today." Jenna met his anger with what she hoped was cool firmness, because her heart was knocking like an unbalanced piston. "The scout can see your son play as soon as he brings up his grade in my class." She stepped back and drew a breath. Decided to be the only grown-up in the room. Grace under pressure, her father used to say. "You may be able to buy and sell this school, Mr. Lutz, but you can't buy and sell me. If money were important to me, I can assure you I wouldn't be here. I am here, however, and I'm here to see children learn. I can't do that without parental support. If we can't find a way to work together for Rudy's benefit, then you'll get the opportunity to attempt to intimidate Rudy's next remedial science teacher next year, when he repeats the class. Good day, sir." Jenna turned and found Dr. Blackman's face pale, mottled with red splotches of rage. She inclined her head, fighting the urge to smack him. "And thank you for Shouldering her briefcase, Jenna walked out of the office and let the trembles take over. |
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