by Lisa Jackson
Jules frowned at the mention of her ex. “No.”
“Of course not,” Gerri said skeptically.
“I believe you.” Erin eyed her friend as she bit into the slices of tuna and salmon. To Gerri she added, “You know Sebastian was just a rebound thing.”
Gerri lifted a shoulder. “Rebound thing that turned into marriage.”
Jules saw no reason to hide what was going on with her family, and she had drunk just enough saki to let down her defenses. “It’s my sister,” she said with a sigh. Then, while finishing the remainder of her meal, she launched into the story.
Gerri and Erin only broke in to ask a question or two, but for the most part, they were rapt, spellbound by Shay’s problems, not particularly sure Jules was looking at the situation the way she should.
“So … I can’t shake this really bad feeling about the whole thing. I think it’s a big mistake,” Jules admitted. “I hate the fact that there’s no communication between the students and their families.”
“All those rehab places are like that,” Erin offered. “They have to cut off negative influences.”
“But that’s not me,” Jules defended. “I support my sister.”
“I know, but it’s all part of the treatment.”
“Maybe the doctors and teachers and psychologists at Black Rock—”
“Blue Rock.”
“Okay, whatever. The people there are professionals. Has it ever occurred to you that they know what they’re doing?” Gerri offered. “Shay was getting herself into trouble. It sounds to me like the judge was lenient, giving her another chance. Come on, Jules, you know she’s got problems.”
“We all got into trouble,” Jules said. “We all experimented with drugs, alcohol, and sex.”
“Just weed,” Gerri clarified, “and nothing after college.”
“Shaylee was arrested a couple of times, right?” Erin touched Jules’s sleeve. “I know you worry about her, and I hate to agree with Gerri, but maybe this place is the best thing for her. You’ve got to quit mother-henning her; she’s almost eighteen. Believe me, she can handle whatever that academy dishes out.” She took a swallow of her wine and effectively changed the subject. “So, let’s talk about you. How’s the job hunting going?”
“Dismally.”
“Sorry that I can’t help you out. They’re laying off teachers at my school,” Gerri said. “I think I’ll be okay, but the first-year teachers are really worried.”
“The economy sucks,” Erin agreed. “My company’s cutting hours.”
“There’s a job opening at Blue Rock.” Jules sipped her drink, letting it heat her from the inside out.
“Uh-oh. Don’t tell me you’re thinking of applying?” Erin smelled trouble.
“No, I don’t think so,” Jules said, though, in truth, the idea kept taunting her. “One of the teachers there was let go.”
“Maris Howell, right?” Gerri asked thoughtfully. She wiped an imaginary spill from the black lacquer tabletop.
Jules was surprised. “How did you know?”
“I know her … well, kind of. We met at a seminar the first year I was teaching, and we kept up for a while, then lost touch. I saw her name in the paper a while back, and I tried to contact her, but no answer. The phone number I had wasn’t hers any longer and same with her e-mail.”
“You know what happened?”
“Uh-uh.” Gerri frowned into her empty martini glass. “Not really. But I was surprised about the scandal. It doesn’t make sense. Maris seemed like a real straight arrow. Into her church. Big on her family. She did lose her fiancé in Afghanistan, though, and that could have changed things. She could have flipped.”
“Innocent until proven guilty,” Erin reminded them all as she twisted her wineglass in her fingers and turned to Jules.
“So you’re down because of Shay?” Gerri said skeptically. “It’s not a man thing?”
“Of course not!” Jules shook her head. “Let’s not go there.”
Gerri tapped a fingernail on the lacquer table. “If you ask me, she never got over Cooper.”
“What!” Jules said, nearly choking on a swallow of saki.
“The rodeo guy.” Gerri wrinkled her nose. “He was sexy, but really, he rode Brahman bulls, for God’s sake. What kind of a weird macho thing is that?”
“It’s cool. Sexy. And there’s big money in rodeo if you’re good,” Erin said.
“Yeah, well, there are other ways to earn a living.” Gerri pulled out the small plastic pick and sucked an olive into her mouth.
“You’re just too urban to understand,” Erin said. “The whole cowboy imagery and legend, the loner on his horse, is part of most females’ fantasies.”
“Not this girl,” Gerri said.
Erin lifted a shoulder. “But it is for me, and maybe for Jules—”
“Hey, you don’t have to talk about me as if I’m not here,” Jules cut in. “And I am so done with cowboys. I’m through with anyone remotely associated with the rodeo.”
“Uh-huh, sure. Once a cowboy groupie, always—”
“No way.” Jules shook her head.
“If it’s any consolation, I think Trent gave up the whole bull-riding thing, too.” Erin twirled the stem of her wineglass between her fingers.
Jules looked away, trying like crazy not to express interest when, the truth of the matter was, she still found Cooper Trent a little interesting, still a bit dangerous. There was something about him, a fearlessness that had intrigued her, but she’d tried, oh, God, she’d tried to forget him. To the point that she’d married someone else.
A mistake.
“So he’s not a cowboy anymore. Bully for him.” Gerri smiled at her own little joke as laughter erupted at one of the nearby tables, where two couples were huddled together, each trying to outtalk the others. “So what’s Cooper moved on to? Calf roping? Pig wrestling?”
“Funny,” Erin said, wrinkling her nose. “Last I heard, he finished some training and was hired as a deputy in Colorado somewhere. No, that’s not right. It was Montana, I think. Some little town I never heard of … not Great Falls, but something very similar.” She shrugged. “Grizzly Falls, maybe? Not that it matters.”
“A cop? Trent’s a cop?” Jules said, disbelieving.
“Or was … I’m not sure. I lost touch. I could ask my brother if you’re interested.”
“I’m not!” Jules was firm.
“Then I guess you haven’t talked to him since the two of you broke up?”
“Not once.”
“In five years?” Gerri was surprised. “Why not?”
“No reason.” What she and Trent had shared was ancient history. So why was it that she still had dreams about him? Erotic dreams that left her breathless and sweating—that is, when she wasn’t experiencing the recurring nightmare, that horrid, disturbing dream of her father’s murder.
“She’s moved on,” Gerri said, but Erin didn’t seem convinced.
Jules wasn’t interested in rehashing her love life, so she turned the conversation around. “What about you two?”
Erin’s eyes flashed, as if she’d been waiting for someone to ask. “You won’t believe this, but I actually found someone online.”
“Craigslist,” Gerri offered.
Erin rolled her eyes. “Not quite.”
“Close enough. His name is Franklin, and he’s all she ever talks about,” Gerri said, shaking her head. “I’m surprised it’s taken so long to get to the subject.”
Erin sighed. “Franklin is the best.”
“Despite his name,” Gerri teased.
“It’s a great name.” Erin wasn’t about to hear one bad word about the new man in her life.
“So what about you, Gerri?” Jules persisted.
“Nothing. Just broke up with a guy I dated all of six weeks.” She rolled her expressive eyes. “He definitely wasn’t the one.”
“I don’t know if there is such a thing,” Jules said, glad the conversation had sh
ifted away from the unsettling topic of Cooper Trent. “So, come on,” she urged Erin, “tell me about Franklin.”
The waitress paused at their table. “More of the same?” she asked, and they ordered another round.
“So … back to Franklin.” Erin waxed poetic and went on about the new love of her life, a car salesman who was taking classes to become an accountant.
Gerri rolled her eyes, an unspoken B-O-R-I-N-G in her gaze, but Jules enjoyed the easy exchange among friends, catching up as they talked and laughed over the next two hours.
By the time she returned to her car, Jules felt better, more balanced. Luckily, she hadn’t collected a parking ticket, though the meter had run out, and she drove home without incident.
“Things are looking up,” she told herself as she locked her car and stepped through a puddle on her way to the front door.
Inside, she shook off her wet jacket and spent a few minutes playing with Diablo when she found his one-eyed catnip mouse under the couch. “Right where you left it,” she admonished as he slunk off, carrying the shredded thing between his jaws.
“Fine, be that way,” she kidded, then walked to the kitchen to check her messages.
There was only one. No caller ID.
“Jules,” Shay’s voice, a whisper, quivered on the recording. Jules froze, staring at the answering machine.
“Are you there?” Shay asked. “Jules? Oh, God, please pick up! It’s Shay …”
Jules’s heart was beating in her eardrums as she tried to hear Shay’s soft, frightened voice.
“You have to get me out of here, Jules,” Shay whispered frantically. “This place is horrible. But you can’t call. I’m not supposed to be on the phone. Just please, please find a way to get me out of here! Uh-oh—”
The line went dead.
CHAPTER 9
Anxiously, trying not to make a sound, Shay clicked off the phone. Was it her imagination, or was someone on the other side of the door to this darkened office? It was supposed to be empty, but Shay had sneaked through a back way that didn’t quite lock, the entrance used by cleaning staff.
One of the students, JoAnne Harris, the girl who was never far from her banjo, mandolin, or guitar, had clued her in. That JoAnne went by the name of Banjo was just plain lame. But at least, while they had sat near each other cleaning tack earlier today, Banjo had let it slip that there was a secret way to call out to the real world. If you could sneak into the admin building, you could get through with a special code that one of the students had found while cleaning Charla King’s desk. That was how Shaylee had been able to reach Jules, who hopefully would find a way to spring her.
The codes changed monthly, Banjo had confided, but Charla King kept the list taped to the inside of a desk drawer that she sometimes forgot to lock.
So, even if Banjo’s name was stupid, at least she was willing to give up a few secrets of this place.
Again, she thought she heard voices in the hallway.
Damn!
Wasn’t that just her luck?
No one was supposed to be patrolling the halls of the administration building at this time of night. And if they found Shay here, what punishment would those dorky TAs dream up? So annoying, those überstudents who’d been brainwashed into believing they were superheroes or something. The TAs would act like she’d committed a major crime, just because she strayed from the rec hall next door.
Now the voices were louder. A man and a woman.
Shaylee shrunk into a dark corner, but bits of a heated argument seeped through the glass door with its blinds snapped shut.
“Let’s not go there, okay? I get it. I should have known she was going to bolt. My mistake!” A high-pitched, girly voice hissed through the hallways. Shay had heard it before and knew in a heartbeat it belonged to Missy Albright, one of the TAs. Was she talking about Shay and the fact that she’d slipped away from the group that had congregated in the rec hall?
Damn!
She had to hide, and fast!
Noiselessly, she dropped to her knees and crawled around the corner of the desk, using it as a screen if anyone walked through the main doorway. Even so, she felt like a dead duck.
A male voice responded to Missy. He sounded angry, but Shay couldn’t tell who it was or even what he was saying.
With a loud click, the door opened and the lights flipped on, offering wobbling illumination as the fluorescent tubes overhead flickered on.
Shay held her breath.
She couldn’t be caught here!
“See? Nothing!” the male voice said. “No one’s here.”
“I swear—”
“Just calm down.”
“Like I should have calmed down with Lauren?” Missy challenged.
Shay felt the blood rush through her head. They were talking about Lauren Conway, the girl who had disappeared one night. She’d already heard the rumors about her. No one knew if Lauren was dead or alive. Had she escaped? Had she met with some accident and died? The weirdest theory was that someone had killed her and she’d returned to haunt the school. Maeve Mancuso, a twit if ever there was one, was certain she’d seen Lauren’s ghost lingering in the gazebo under a full moon.
“Don’t patronize me, okay. It’s not cool.” Missy was really riled.
Shay squeezed her eyes shut and prayed the blond TA wouldn’t step farther into the room.
“We should get back,” the man said.
The lights clicked off.
Shay wasn’t fooled. They hadn’t left.
She waited.
A few seconds later, the door closed with a soft thud.
Still, she wondered if Missy, after winking to her companion, had stayed inside to flush Shay out. Shay didn’t move. Slowly and silently, she counted out the seconds: one thousand one, one thousand two, until she’d clicked off a good five minutes. There was no sound in the room aside from the soft rush of air through the heat ducts and the wild hammering of her heart.
When she could stand the tension no longer, she peeked around the corner of the desk, and deciding Missy hadn’t stayed behind in a ruse to catch her, Shay climbed to her feet.
Her pulse was jumping, her nerves as tight as bowstrings.
Now, wondering if her actions were being filmed by hidden cameras, Shay eased out of the room quickly. In her haste, she banged her thigh into the corner of a desk and bit her tongue to keep from crying out.
Her pod leader and Ethan thought she was in the restroom, so she had to hurry back to the rec hall, where everyone gathered after dinner. She bit her lip and grabbed the handle of the door. God help her if anyone saw her slip into the hallway.
Now or never. She opened the door and found the hall empty. With a loud click, it shut behind her. Barely breathing, she hurried to the main corridor that, beneath the roof of a breezeway, led back to the rec hall.
She was nearly to the door when she heard footsteps behind her. What? She had thought she was alone.
Glancing over her shoulder, she saw Dr. Wade Taggert, one of the psychology teachers and counselors, following her. Shay’s heart nosedived. Wade, with his thin goatee, was somewhere around forty years old and seemed always a little edgy, tweaked. At his side was that stupid Missy Albright, the platinum-blond TA with the squeaky voice who had nearly caught Shay in the admin building.
Great.
“What’re you doing in here?” Wade’s voice boomed down the hallway.
Was it the same male voice she’d heard while she’d been hiding, the same guy talking with Missy? Shay wasn’t sure, but now she had no choice but to stop and turn.
“Isn’t this where the restrooms are?” she asked innocently.
Missy’s eyes narrowed.
“I mean, why are you in this building?” Wade explained. “There are restrooms in the rec hall, and that’s where everyone’s supposed to be at this hour.”
Except you two, Shay thought, but held her tongue. She decided to go with confusion rather than say something that might land h
er in trouble. “Well, I thought so, but I couldn’t find one, and I knew there was one here, because I’d used it the first day when I was being registered. I really had to go, so …” She left the rest for their imagination and tried to look sheepish and flustered.
Missy obviously wasn’t buying it. “Really?” she mocked. “There’s a set of bathrooms just down the hallway from the conversation pit. You must’ve walked right past them on your way out.” God, her voice was grating.
Shay shrugged as if she knew she’d been an idiot. “I didn’t.”
“Well, now you know. Come along.” Wade was glowering at her as if he didn’t know what to believe. Beneath his goatee, his lips flattened over his teeth in irritation. “Didn’t your pod leader assign you an escort?”
“Yeah,” she said, thinking of Ethan Slade. “But, you know, he’s a guy.” If only she could blush! That would help. Instead she tried to appear uncomfortable, staring down at the floor. She hoped this was all worth it, that Jules would show up.
As Wade reached for the door, Shay saw movement from the corner of her eye. She turned just as “Father Jake” appeared from the shadows, walking rapidly, long strides moving him along the breezeway toward the admin building. “Is anything wrong?” he asked, quickly sizing up the situation as Wade opened the door.
“Miss Stillman apparently got lost.”
“Easy to do.” Father Jake didn’t appear worried.
“She couldn’t find the restroom,” Missy supplied, her littlegirl voice disbelieving as she rained one of her I’m-just-so-darned-cute smiles on the handsome preacher.
“But she found one. So we’re all okay?” Father Jake said with an easy smile. “Right?”
“Right.” Shaylee couldn’t help liking him a bit.
Father Jake grinned. “Good, good. Then you’d better join the others.”
“Let’s go.” Taggert’s eyes had slitted. He held the door open, and the girls passed through.
“I’ll be there in a minute,” Father Jake said, then continued walking swiftly toward the chapel. Shay wanted to follow him, the preacher in jeans and a thick down jacket. He, at least, seemed real.