by Lisa Jackson
During the walk along the breezeway, Missy sent Shay a withering I’ve-got-your-number look, but Shaylee ignored it and opened the door to the rec hall. Inside, she walked briskly along the short corridor, past the clearly marked restrooms, and into the wide expanse of the common area.
Kids were studying and talking, and Banjo was fiddling around on her guitar while a few others from their pod listened.
Ethan was flopped in a worn chair, while Lucy Yang sat next to Banjo in the same grouping of rust-colored furniture. Lucy was one of the few people Shay liked here at the academy. Obviously smart, Lucy was as unbending as steel. She still had the tough-girl thing going with her spiked hair, untrusting eyes, and hints of the irreverent attitude that had forced her to the academy.
Thank God not everyone had been converted to freakin’ robots. Shay cast a casual glance at Nona, who leaned over her open book to chat with Maeve and Nell. Despite the differences in their looks, those three tried to be cookie cutters of each other with similar clothes, hair, and attitudes. The three girls glanced up at Shay as she walked past. When Shay returned the stare, Nona and Nell looked away, but Maeve sent Shay the same frosty glare she’d been giving her since her arrival.
When he caught sight of Shay being escorted across the cavernous room, Ethan straightened and bolted out of the chair. “Hey! I was just starting to wonder about you.”
Maeve looked peeved.
“She was in the admin building,” Wade announced.
“What?” Ethan’s gaze clouded. “Why?” he asked Shay.
“She couldn’t find the women’s room here,” Missy said, her pale eyebrows shooting up to indicate she smelled a lie.
Ethan got the message. “But—”
“Yeah, I know,” Shay said, cutting Ethan off. “I missed it, okay? Geez, everyone’s acting like I committed some major crime or something. I just needed to pee!”
Wade’s scowl deepened. “Just keep an eye on her,” he told Ethan, then went across the hall, toward the thermoses of tea and hot cocoa.
Shay wasn’t exactly sure of all the dynamics, but it was obvious Maeve was pissed. Did she have a thing for Ethan?
Missy leaned close to Ethan. “If you can’t watch her, I will.”
“Hey! I don’t need a keeper!” Shay had heard enough. She didn’t want any more attention thrown her way. “I made a mistake. Sor-ree. Let’s not make a federal case of it.”
“I got it!” Ethan said to Missy, and the girl actually smirked a bit, as if she couldn’t wait to put Ethan in his place. In a hit of recognition, Shay decided that these two had once hooked up, but something had gone wrong. Maybe the woman-scorned thing? Missy was all about rubbing Ethan’s nose in his mistake.
A few heads turned. Nona’s group was suddenly all ears, and Keesha Bell, the sole African American girl in Shay’s pod, quit paying so much attention to Benedict Davenne. Keesha had big brown eyes that didn’t miss much and cornrows so perfect they reminded Shay of an aerial view of suburban streets. Keesha and BD were tight, and even though there was a rule against getting romantically involved with anyone on campus, it was broken all the time. But now, for once, Keesha and BD were tuned into something besides each other.
“Is there a problem?” Shay’s group leader, Cooper Trent, cut away from the bunch of boys he’d been talking to and strode across the room.
“Yeah.” Shay held up her hands in surrender. “I guess I broke the rules.”
“We caught her in the admin building,” Missy said smugly.
“I was looking for a bathroom, didn’t see the one in here, went next door, and got caught in a fu-frickin’ toilet sting.”
Missy gasped.
A couple of kids chuckled.
Shay was surprised to see Nell actually grin.
Dr. Burdette shook her head as she passed by, frizzy red hair sprouting from her ponytail, but she didn’t stop to chastise.
“It’s all my fault,” Shay continued. “I don’t know what the punishment is for using the wrong bathroom, but I’m guilty as charged.”
Keesha giggled, then put a hand over her mouth to keep from laughing out loud.
“It’s getting a little loud over here.” Wade strode over, a steaming cup in hand. “Let’s pipe down.”
“Yes, let’s move on.” Trent said to Shay, “Why don’t you go back to studying? You know where the restrooms are now, right?”
Shay nodded. So this dude had her back. Or did he? Maybe his ass was on the line because he was her pod leader. If he really wasn’t on her side, she was pretty sure she could count on Father Jake. Or was she kidding herself? Sheesh, this place was nuts!
“Good.” Trent glanced up at Ethan, a quick, silent reprimand, then said to Shay, “If you have questions, talk to me or Ethan … unless you’d prefer to have a female TA.”
Like Missy Albright? Save me! “I’m cool with Ethan.”
Keesha swallowed a smile, and Lucy Yang actually had the nerve to give her a thumbs-up.
“Good.” Trent met Taggert’s unhappy glare. “No harm, no foul, right?”
Taggert looked about to argue, but the main doors opened and Reverend Lynch walked in on a gust of cold air. Wearing a long black coat, he strode to his favored spot in front of the oversized fireplace. He stretched his arms out like an eagle spreading its wings—the motion for everyone to gather closer.
“Sorry I’m late.” He glanced at the clock. “It’s nearly time for lights-out. So, quickly now, let’s lift our voices in praise, then close with a quick prayer.” He motioned toward the piano in the corner while finding the English teacher with his gaze. “Dean Hammersley,” he said to the woman with the body of a marathon runner, “if you could please accompany us?”
Shaylee squeezed into the space between Banjo and Lucy. Ethan, properly chastised, was only a step behind her and was next to Zach Bernsen, the TA whom Shay had silently christened the Viking God because of his Nordic features.
A few feet away, Drew Prescott smirked, as if he felt some satisfaction with her discomfiture, but then she’d already pegged him for a loser. He was good-looking enough, despite his acne. With his dark hair and eyes and with the build of a soccer player, he was always smug, like he knew her innermost secret.
Another one to avoid.
Near Reverend Lynch, Mr. DeMarco, her new chemistry teacher, stood as if he were some kind of sentry. Black haired, swarthy skinned, face set, he stared at the group as a whole, but Shay was certain she was in his sights. He had what she thought of as a lizard’s gaze, one you couldn’t follow.
She tried not to stare at him and looked at the floor, but that didn’t help much.
From the corner of her eye, she saw Missy glaring at her, but she pretended not to notice. When Father Jake returned to stand a few feet behind Shay, somehow she felt a little safer.
As the first few notes of the hymn reverberated through the hall, Shay hoped that Jules had taken her seriously and was finding a way to get her out of this madhouse.
Later, after the final prayer in the rec hall, the Leader slipped outside to stand in the shadows. A few steps out of the lamppost’s circle of illumination, he was hidden behind a copse of saplings while a stiff winter breeze ruffled his hair and cooled his blood.
Surreptitiously, he watched as Shaylee left the rec hall, just as he’d observed her when she’d lagged behind her group on their way to clean the stable. There was just something about her that intrigued him.
Now, Shaylee followed the shoveled path along with the group of students heading to the women’s dorm. While the other girls were talking and laughing under the glowing security lamps, Shaylee hung back from the crowd, the lonely new girl who had no friends. She looked worried, fragile, though he knew better. If nothing else, Shaylee was a fighter.
Even the strongest warrior needs an ally.
Smiling inside, he knew it was nearly time to strike. To take advantage of her frayed emotional state. He would offer her comfort. Solace. A friendly ear and a strong should
er to lean on.
Shaylee Stillman.
He rolled her name through his mind as she walked beneath the lamp, her features caught in the light.
Surly.
Sexy.
Sultry.
Sassy.
Over the past few days, he’d spoken with her, of course, welcomed her. After all, it was expected. But he hadn’t yet shown his hand; he didn’t dare. Not until he was certain she would be a willing candidate.
He needed to learn more about Shaylee, test her, find out if she was ready.
He couldn’t afford another mistake.
CHAPTER 10
With cell phones that connected to the Internet and beamed up to satellites around the world, Jules knew there must be a way to reach her sister. She called Erin, who knew a few tricks to retrieve numbers because of her job working with cell phones. They tried a few tacks, without success. When Jules called the school, no one answered and a recorded message advised her that someone would be in the office the next morning.
It was closing in on ten when Jules called her mother. In response to her concern, Edie laughed. “Really, Julia, what did you expect? Of course she called you, because she thought she could get to you. Reverend Lynch advised me that this would happen; it’s totally normal.”
“It is not normal, Mom.”
“You have to get over this.”
“I can’t. She called me.”
“She can only blame herself for ending up there.”
“Then let’s talk about Reverend Lynch. What about that mansion on the lake? That’s not normal, either. Preachers—at least upstanding Christian preachers—don’t normally live in houses worth several million dollars.”
Edie sighed dramatically. “Of course they don’t. I already explained that the school owns it, and I think it was bequeathed by someone connected to the academy, or maybe some grateful grandparent; I’m not really sure.”
“Grateful rich grandparent.”
“It’s not a crime to have money,” her mother admonished. “Why do you have to be so negative, Julia?” The conversation went downhill after that.
Jules hung up feeling even worse. Was she really putting her own negative spin on this? For all her help, Erin had warned Jules that the way Shaylee was being treated was normal. “All rehab centers cut off communications,” Erin had said. “They have to break negative patterns.”
Maybe Jules was taking this too seriously. Shay was, and always had been, the princess of high drama, waiting to become queen, but so far, Edie wasn’t giving up her crown.
Jules tossed her pen onto the desk and told herself to give it a rest, consider the fact that everyone seemed to think Shay was in the best place for her.
Diablo jumped onto the desk. His long tail flicked, and his gold eyes stared at her fingers as she took another turn at the keyboard of her computer. “Don’t tell anyone,” she whispered, and Googled Cooper Trent. Ever since having drinks with Erin and Gerri, she’d wondered about him. It was stupid and she knew it, but she couldn’t stop herself.
“Oh, great,” she muttered, seeing that there were dozens of articles about him. Photos, too. She weeded through them all, searching for the most recent information, and found that a few years back, he had signed on with the Pinewood Sheriff’s Department in Grizzly Falls, Montana. He was listed as the arresting officer in a few articles, but those had been several years before. When looking at the Web site for the county, Deputy Cooper Trent’s name wasn’t listed, his picture missing.
So either he was fired or he quit and was now off the radar.
Not that she should care. The cat hopped into her lap, looking up at her and meowing. “I know,” she admitted, stroking his sleek head. “I’m an idiot. So what else is new?”
Trent locked the door of the equipment storage shed and gave it a tug, hearing the metal bolt rattle as it held fast. Used as storage for the canoes, snowshoes, kayaks, and hiking and fishing gear, this outbuilding near the boathouse was one of his responsibilities. Satisfied his gear was secure, he turned his collar up against the wind and headed across campus to his cabin, one of several that housed the staff. His place was a long haul from here—over a quarter mile away, on the far side of the dorms and rec hall, closer to the kennels, stable, and barns.
But he wasn’t complaining. He figured he’d gotten lucky. He didn’t have to have a roommate, mainly because of the state of repair of his particular bungalow. It was not only the smallest, but was also the oldest on the campus, one of the few buildings that remained from the years when this isolated spot had been a haven for hunting and fishing. Built in the early 1900s, the original lodge had been demolished and the gravel access road had washed away in spring thaws and flooding. But a few small cabins were still standing. Barely.
Trent could deal with a leak in the bathroom ceiling and plumbing that screeched when he twisted on a tap or flushed the toilet. He’d take a dilapidated old cabin if it meant privacy. The newer staff quarters were like town houses, big enough for two with common walls, each unit identical to the next.
No thank you.
Being near the stable was a plus for him. He had always felt more comfortable with animals than most people, to the point he’d been considered a loner by some, a cowboy by others. Not that he gave a rat’s ass.
When he wasn’t teaching sports like basketball and volleyball in the gym, Trent was the go-to guy for wilderness survival and a backup for Bert Flannagan, who was the horse and dog handler. All his years on the rodeo circuit had been on his résumé when he’d applied for this job. His experience had convinced Reverend Lynch that he should spend time with the animals, which, Trent thought, shoving his hands into the pockets of his denim work jacket, was far more preferable than working with his peers.
The kids he liked.
Sure, a lot of them had attitude problems, and some were seriously on the way to becoming criminals, but for the most part, they could be challenged and changed. He couldn’t say the same for some of the teachers and counselors here.
Was Tobias Lynch, the reverend, theologian, head administrator for the school, as pious as he portrayed himself to be? His wife, Cora Sue, spent little time on campus, preferring the mansion on the shores of Lake Washington, just miles from the civilization of Seattle. Trent didn’t blame the woman, but it was an unusual setup for a high-profile guy like Lynch.
And what about Salvatore DeMarco, the math and science teacher, who was as quick with a knife as he was with a smile? Trent had seen DeMarco gut a fish in seconds, snap a rabbit’s neck, and take down a buck with a bow and arrow. DeMarco was an ex-Marine who’d served in Afghanistan. With a master’s in chemistry, he taught science and math, but also gave lessons in self-defense and survival.
Adele Burdette, headmistress for the girls, was an enigma; Trent hadn’t learned much about her, but she rubbed him the wrong way.
Bert Flannagan was another curiosity. True, Flannagan had a way with the animals, but Trent suspected the man had a cruel streak. In his midfifties with a military haircut and eyes that were often slitted in suspicion, the guy was leather-tough and well-read, more fit than most thirty-year-olds.
Trent had overheard Spurrier and Flannagan talking once, and there was mention of Flannagan once being a mercenary. The truth? A joke? A lie to impress? Trent was betting there was at least a kernel of truth to it; the guy just had that look about him. Trent had never seen him mistreat an animal, though Flannagan reprimanded students all the time. Most recently, Trent had seen him rip into Drew Prescott and Zach Bernsen, two of the TAs, who had tried to pawn off the chore of cooling their mounts to underlings. The boys had deserved the dressing down they received.
As the latest teacher hired—the new kid on the block—Trent wasn’t yet privy to a lot of the inner workings of the school, but he’d done his homework before he applied for the position, and it hadn’t taken him long to figure out that some of the counselors and teachers here weren’t on the up-and-up.
Like you?<
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He felt his mouth twist in self-deprecation. He, too, was a phony, getting this job on a trumped-up résumé. But he didn’t feel bad about the lies on his application, the deception he was perpetrating. It was necessary if he was ever going to find out what the hell had happened to Lauren Conway. The sheriff’s department in this county was stretched thin. A handful of deputies struggled to cover hundreds of miles of deep forest; rocky, mountainous terrain; and long stretches of curving, dangerous highways. Power outages occurred regularly, hikers or campers got lost, and the snaking roads winding through the rugged Siskiyous presented ample opportunity for accidents.
On top of all that, Blaine O’Donnell, recently elected to the position of sheriff in Rogue County, wasn’t the brightest bulb in the chandelier. As far as Trent knew, the guy wasn’t really crooked, just lazy and inept.
So what had happened to Lauren Conway?
Trent wasn’t certain.
Yet.
But he had a feeling her disappearance wasn’t the act of a runaway, as the school administration purported. And the sheriff’s department seemed to have written it off with little investigation. Trent couldn’t help but wonder who from the school had lined O’Donnell’s pockets and campaign war chest in the last election.
Lauren Conway’s disappearance was the reason he’d taken the position at Blue Rock, though, of course, the administration didn’t suspect that he had a hidden agenda, that he was working undercover hoping to discover the truth. He had the feeling that someone here knew more than they’d admitted; he was working on finding out what that something was.
And he was making inroads as the staff and student body began to trust him.
He hoped to keep it that way.
So far, in the past few months, he didn’t think he’d raised much suspicion, but that could change on a dime. Especially if Shaylee Stillman decided to open her mouth and make some noise.
As he passed the interlocking corrals near the stable, he slowed, his gaze scraping the darkened landscape for anything out of the ordinary. Rustic wooden fences, slats gray in the moonlight, bisected fields of glistening snow. Peaceful. Serene. A few thin clouds moving with the breeze.