Because of a Girl

by Janice Kay Johnson

  “Which students?”

  After a single woebegone look, Emily bent her head. “Mr. Bouchard’s.”

  Meg didn’t have to close her eyes to see in Sabra’s handwriting, Mrs. Remy Bouchard. Sabra Bouchard. She felt sick. Kids had crushes on teachers all the time. She knew in theory that teachers were known to violate every code of decency and have sex with students. But Mr. Bouchard? He’d seemed mature and pleasant when she’d spoken with him in November during parent-teacher conferences.

  “Do you really think...?”

  Despair made Emily look so young. “I don’t know, Mom. She never told me. But—” Her shoulders hunched.

  Meg held out her good arm. “Will you come here?”

  Emily all but threw herself at her mother. The mattress compressed, and Meg winced, but it also felt good to feel Emily’s head on her shoulder, to be able to hold her tight.

  Safe.

  For now.

  “Mom?” It was a shaky whisper. “Um, there’s stuff I didn’t tell you.” Nothing in Emily’s confession surprised Meg, not now that Jack seemed convinced.

  Jack brought an end to her low-voiced reassurances when he returned, wearing his cop face. “If the doctor doesn’t show up pretty quick, I may have to abandon you two for a while. You can call me when—”

  A rapping at the door had his head turning.

  While he and Emily waited in the hall, a new doctor examined Meg and agreed there was no reason she couldn’t go home, as long as she took it easy. He scribbled a prescription for pain meds and told her the nurse would be in shortly with discharge papers.

  Of course, it took another hour before Meg was actually allowed to leave. Emily and the nurse helped her get dressed while Jack went downstairs to the pharmacy to fill her prescription.

  An orderly wheeled her through the hospital and out the automatic doors to the curb, where Jack was ready to lift her into his SUV. At home, he carried her as gently in and up the stairs to her bedroom.

  “Emily can bring you anything you need. Don’t try to go downstairs without help,” he ordered.

  She resisted the temptation to roll her eyes.

  “I’m going to start with a hot bath.”

  Emily, who had been hovering in the doorway, said, “I’ll do it, Mom,” and dashed away.

  Jack cupped Meg’s uninjured cheek. “You scared me,” he said hoarsely.

  “Me, too,” she said softly.

  He groaned and bent until his forehead rested against hers. “I’m afraid to touch you. And, damn, I want to.”

  Her heart swelled. “I want you to. I wish—” She couldn’t finish.

  “You and me both.” His chest rose and fell with a deep, ragged breath. He lifted his head, his jaw set, eyes dark. “I need to go. I’ll have Emily turn the dead bolt behind me. Don’t let her answer the door. If you hear or see anything that worries you, call nine-one-one and then me. Do you understand?”

  “He wouldn’t come here.”

  “I doubt it, but I don’t want you taking any chances, either.” This kiss caught the corner of her mouth. “I’ll call and check on you, and I’ll be back when I can.”

  “Jack?”

  He stopped, his eyebrows up.

  “Do you think Sabra is dead?”

  Expression bleak, he only shook his head. “I don’t know.”

  Meg nodded. “Thank you. For coming right away and taking care of Emily. For being—” What she’d never had: a bulwark against a harsh world.

  She had a feeling he understood. He came back, gave her another careful hug and kiss and finally left.

  Even aching, exhausted and worried, she still had a giddy moment of happiness unlike anything she’d ever felt before.

  * * *

  RIVERA’S CALL THIS morning was the one Jack had been waiting for.

  The principal’s voice had been heavy. “Fred Hurn vaguely remembers ‘the pregnant girl’ coming into his classroom. He says she seemed flustered and said she was looking for someone.”

  “You believe him?”

  “Yes. I’ve known him a long time. Fred has taught in the district for...has to be twelve, thirteen years.”

  Jack had watched an aide pushing the meal cart down the hall, only half hearing the rattle. “And the other?”

  Rivera’s sigh was audible. “Took a while, but I found a student who still had the quiz wadded in the bottom of his backpack.”

  Jack already knew that several students who had Mr. Bouchard second period said he had left a TA to supervise the last quiz they’d taken. “I don’t even think he was back when the bell rang,” the girl had said.

  Since his planning period was third period, he’d have had close to two hours to do...something.

  “It was dated,” Rivera said. “You were right. Damn it.”

  Jack had never heard him swear before. “Doesn’t necessarily mean his absence during the one period had anything to do with Sabra.”

  “Why didn’t anyone see him leave?”

  “He wouldn’t have gone out by the office. And only a few classrooms face the parking lot. Ms. Guzman, whose room does, said she never even glanced out. Now, if we were to canvass the entire student body, chances are good we’d find some kids who did see him.”

  Rivera had always seemed like a decent guy. If what they suspected was true, this was a real blow to him. Jack waited through a silence that stretched.

  “I hope to God we’re wrong,” the principal exploded.

  “If we’re wrong,” Jack had to remind him, “then we’re no closer to finding Sabra Lee.”

  He had thanked Rivera and returned to Meg’s hospital room, hoping neither she nor Emily noted his dark mood.

  He had no choice but to spend a good part of the day interviewing the Yarnells’ friends and family, as well as employees at the dealership.

  The wife’s sister, Mary, who lived in Chicago, told him Denise had intended to leave her husband. “He wasn’t physically abusive, but in my opinion he was emotionally abusive,” she said forthrightly, her voice colored by both anger and grief. “I spent years trying to get her to see that, but she wouldn’t hear me. Once their youngest left for college, though, she wanted to take some classes herself or maybe start working. He put his foot down hard. The more she argued, the more he cracked down. He was calling a dozen times a day to make sure she hadn’t gone anywhere that she hadn’t already cleared with him. It got so unbearable, she told him she was leaving him.”

  “And when was that, Mrs. Koepp?” he asked.

  “Just over a week ago. She saw an attorney Monday. He encouraged her to let Phil think she was backing down, just to give them time to ensure he didn’t move to hide assets.”

  “And do you know that attorney’s name?”

  She did.

  Jack spoke to him, too, verifying everything the sister had said. Meantime, Troy talked to a salesman at one of the dealerships who had happened to pass by his boss’s office when he was screaming abuse at his wife.

  When he told Jack later, Troy shook his head. “Shook the guy up. Sounds like Phil was Mr. Charm himself on the job. Employees thought they were lucky, and he was damn good at bringing in the big accounts. They had quite a few customers who bought their entire fleets from him.”

  Jack grunted. “Barring any surprises from CSU or the autopsies, I think we can tie this one up.”

  “To kill the person you love the most.” Troy shook his head. “I’ll never get it.”

  Jack wouldn’t, either. The minute he was alone, he reached for his phone to call Meg. He needed to hear her voice.

  The fact that thinking about love had immediately brought her to mind didn’t disturb him as much as he might have expected.

  He’d have gone straight to her if he hadn’t had so
mething he needed to do first.

  * * *

  MOM WAS ASLEEP when Jack called to say he’d be by around five thirty. Emily told him she was making dinner.

  “You as good a cook as she is?” he asked.

  “Nobody is as good a cook as Mom, but I know what I’m doing.”

  “Then thank you, Emily.” And he was gone.

  After Mom woke up, she insisted she could walk. As she made her way to the bathroom, Emily hovered but didn’t have to help.

  “And, yes,” Mom said, “I can make it down the stairs, too. But bless you for cooking.” And she gave Emily a soft smile—crooked because her jaw was still swollen—and hugged her, too.

  Mom had begun moaning and groaning her way downstairs when the doorbell rang.

  “Jack’s going to be mad,” Emily warned.

  Jack saw her the moment he stepped inside. “For God’s sake,” he snapped and bounded up to meet her.

  “I’m doing fine—”

  “Sure you are.” He scooped her up like she didn’t weigh anything, and carried her down the rest of the stairs. Mom waited until they reached the bottom before she punched his shoulder.

  “I am not helpless!”

  He set her carefully on her feet and kissed her forehead. “I know you aren’t, but I like helping you,” he murmured, so quietly Emily knew what he said wasn’t for her ears.

  Emily had actually sort of cheated on dinner. Mom had made some pizza crusts from scratch and frozen several. All Emily had had to do was set two out to defrost and rise, make a sauce, grate cheese and do some chopping. This way everyone got to pick their favorite toppings.

  While they ate, Mom asked about his day. After hesitating, he told them about this guy who’d killed his wife and then himself. Jack sounded... Emily couldn’t quite decide. Resigned, she thought, as if he’d seen lots of awful things like that before, but also...sad.

  And then he said a patrol officer had found the SUV that police thought had hit Mom. It had been stolen only a few blocks away, and not long before the driver tried to kill Emily.

  The thought still weirded her out. Somebody tried to kill me. Believing it could be true was freaky.

  “We’re pretty confident the owner is telling the truth.”

  “Where did you find it?” Mom asked.

  “In an alley less than half a mile away.” Jack looked disgruntled. “Guy could have ditched it and jogged back to wherever he parked his own car. He’d have been driving home by the time you were loaded into the ambulance.” Cold rage flashed on his face.

  Every time Emily closed her eyes, she remembered the roar of the engine and the glare of headlights.

  If only I’d run, she kept thinking. Done something. Because she had frozen, her mother could have died.

  “Why did I just stand there?” she burst out, only then realizing Jack had been talking.

  He gave her a funny, crooked smile. “Because you were shocked. That’s the natural reaction, Emily. It’s built into us, maybe something like the way small mammals go absolutely still when they sense a predator. Movement attracts dangerous eyes. If we don’t so much as breathe, we may go unnoticed.”

  “I’ll bet you would have moved.” She felt and sounded sullen, but only because she was so humiliated that she’d had to be rescued because she’d been stupid.

  “I probably would have,” he agreed, “but I’m trained to react differently than civilians. I’ve been a cop for thirteen years now, giving me plenty of on-the-job practice reacting to sudden aggression.”

  She hung her head, although she sneaked a peek at her mother. “But Mom—”

  “Mom,” her mother said firmly, “had an advantage over you. I know you won’t like it, but I was coming to meet you because I’ve been worried about you. I knew you were still asking questions. Plus, I’d noticed the SUV and wondered why someone was just sitting there with the engine running. So I suppose I was keeping half an eye on it without realizing I was.”

  “Oh.” Hot tears suddenly blinded her. “You could have died!” she wailed.

  And suddenly her mother’s arms were around her, and she was whispering, “I love you more than anyone or anything in the world.”

  Only after Emily had blown her nose and wiped her eyes and sat down again did she see the flinty look Jack was directing at her.

  “You’re out of it now, Emily. You will quit investigating.” Every word sounded chipped off a block of ice. “You will trust me to do my job.”

  “I do trust you,” she mumbled and saw him nod, as if satisfied.

  Mom’s eyes narrowed, but she didn’t say anything.

  After she and Jack cleaned the kitchen together, Emily said she had homework and went upstairs. The first thing she did was call Asher.

  She wouldn’t ask any more questions. Without saying the words, she’d promised Detective Moore. Jack. But that didn’t mean she could forget Sabra.

  So the minute Asher answered, she asked him right out. “When you said you’d help me find Sabra, did you mean it?”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  DRYING HIS HANDS on a dish towel, Jack watched Emily leave the room. He’d been hoping for some time alone with Meg. But before he could tease her about her shiner, he was put on red alert by her expression. Tossing the towel on the counter, he went to the table and pulled a chair out at an angle so he could sit facing her.

  “What?”

  She jerked her gaze to his. “What are you talking about?”

  “Tell me what you’re thinking.”

  Meg shook her head. “I don’t see her giving up that easily.”

  He groaned. “Then I need you to play the heavy, even if that’s not your parenting style. What happened yesterday was no accident. You know that.” Meg might not like this, but... “This guy has to know he screwed up. I doubt he’ll go near Emily again, but I still want her promise that she’ll stick with friends all day tomorrow and not step foot out of the building.”

  Staring at him, Meg rubbed her hands up and down her arms. “You’re serious.”

  “Panic makes a man dangerous. Things are coming to a head.” If Sabra wasn’t already dead, Jack’s gut instinct said she would be soon.

  Her eyes were almost hypnotic in her bruised face as she stared unblinking. “Do you really think it was one of her teachers who tried to run Emily down?”

  “I do.”

  “Mr. Bouchard.”

  “Maybe.”

  Yeah, he thought the piece of slime had been screwing a pretty blonde teenager. Odds were this wasn’t his first offense. Creeps like that tended to be serial offenders. Bouchard might have a girl of the year. Or he stuck with one until she graduated. Who knew? But this time, there’d been a big oops. His career and marriage were toast if Sabra named him as the father of her baby. So he’d played her along, convinced himself he could somehow pacify her...short of marrying her.

  But nothing Jack had heard about Sabra Lee made him think she’d take a pat on the head and maybe a bribe to keep her mouth shut. Bouchard wouldn’t have chosen her if she wasn’t vulnerable to his little games, not surprising given that she had no father in the picture and had a volatile relationship with a mother who wouldn’t back her. Men like him typically had exceptional skill at picking out the right victim from the herd.

  But in this case, the son of a bitch had miscalculated. He should have chosen a downtrodden girl like Robin Buckley, the carjacker’s girlfriend. Robin didn’t expect to be loved or valued. She had always kept her head down and borne without protest whatever shit was thrown at her. It had been a miracle that she’d retained enough spine and conscience to be outraged into revolt.

  In contrast, Sabra had never been abused. Whatever you could say about Andrea, she’d raised a spitfire of a daughter, one with the confidence to
demand what was due her. Sure, she’d been foolishly naive in the first place, but she was at an age when it was normal to swing between dreams and self-doubt. And she’d been preyed on by an adult, a man lacking a conscience.

  Jack could see it—first, Sabra breathlessly announcing the pregnancy. Then, as the months wore on and that pregnancy progressed, the promises sounded thinner and thinner until they were damn near transparent. It was far too late for the abortion Bouchard had probably urged her to have. From his point of view, the trap was closing.

  Jack would have believed she was already dead, except if her body was at the bottom of the lake or buried deep in a field, why would the guy take such a big risk to silence Emily? Why not just sit tight?

  “Then you don’t think it’s him?” Meg asked suddenly.

  “He’s at the top of my hit parade,” Jack admitted.

  “All right, then, tell me.” The fire of anger burned in her eyes. “We’re supposed to trust you. So what are you going to do about him?”

  He straightened, pulling back from her. “Supposed to?”

  The discoloration and swelling made it a little hard to read her expressions. “I didn’t mean that the way it sounded.”

  “No?” He sighed. “I keep talking to people. I look hard at his background. Find out where he worked before and find someone willing to be frank. It’s the way of the world now for a teacher to be encouraged to leave but given a recommendation even when everyone concerned knows damn well he’s been molesting students. The parents don’t want to put their daughter on the stand, let her be labeled. The cops can’t prove their case. The administration doesn’t want the publicity. God forbid the parents en masse find out their darlings aren’t safe even at school. The district can’t afford to get sued. What they can do is pass the buck.”

  Meg reached out and took his hand, catching him by surprise. “That sounded personal.”

  He had to clear his throat. “Yeah. On the job, but it gets to you anyway. A few years back, I worked a case like that. Not in Frenchman Lake,” he added, seeing her widening eyes. “I had the creep dead to rights, but the parents of the two boys in question decided they wanted everything that happened buried. Without their testimony...” He shrugged.