by Irene Hannon
Mitch paused at Karen’s desk and grinned. “Did you have a spy planted in the boardroom?”
“Didn’t need one. Your face tells the story. Let me give you one word of advice—don’t ever play poker.”
“Don’t worry. It’s not my game.”
“Good. So…the assistant-principal position was approved and you will now have some time to call your own. You should go out and celebrate.”
Mitch reached into his pocket and fingered the square velvet case, anticipating his dinner with Tess. “I intend to.”
“Not alone, I hope.”
“Hardly.”
“I didn’t think so. Give Ms. Lockwood my best,” Karen said breezily, turning back to her word processor.
Mitch stared at her. “How did you know?”
Karen sent him a smug look over her shoulder. “I have my ways.”
Mitch shook his head. “I told you you missed your calling. Would you care to let me know how you found out I was seeing her?”
“Well, I usually don’t reveal my sources,” Karen said, pretending to give his request serious consideration before relenting. “But just this once I guess it couldn’t hurt. My neighbor, a nice older woman, Mrs. Brown, was at the grocery store and ran into Ted Randall—you remember Ted, he used to do some of the groundskeeping work here—and he told her that he’d seen you going into a very nice restaurant the night you left here in the suit. He couldn’t remember the name of it, but Mrs. Brown did, and I happen to know one of the hostesses there. Strangely enough, I crossed paths with her a couple of days later, and I asked if by chance she’d seen you at the restaurant. She knew what you looked like from that article in the paper when you won the award, because I’d called it to her attention and she thought you were a hunk. Well, turns out she did see you. And oddly enough, she recognized Tess Lockwood from some meeting she attended that Tess was covering for the paper. So she told me who you were with. Small world, isn’t it?”
Mitch gave her a dazed look. “I think I’m sorry I asked.”
Karen chuckled. “That’s what my husband always says. So why don’t you get out of here? For once in your life, leave before seven o’clock. The world won’t end. And remember—thanks to the board, help is on the way.”
“Not until next year,” he reminded her.
She waved his caveat aside. “Be here before you know it. And school’s almost out for this year, anyway. There’s more to life than work, you know.”
He thought of Tess, and his lips slowly curved upward. “Yeah. I know.”
“Well, it’s about time,” she declared with a satisfied smile.
Mitch chuckled and shook his head. “Karen, you are priceless.”
She sniffed. “Remember that when it comes time for raises.”
Mitch was still chuckling as he entered his office and headed for his desk. All he had to do was put a few papers in his briefcase and he could be on his way.
Out of habit, he glanced at the phone, noting that the message light was on. Nothing new there. It always seemed to be on. He hesitated and glanced at his watch. The board meeting had run long, and Tess was expecting him in less than fifteen minutes. There was no way he’d be on time if he began checking his messages. And tonight was one night he did not want to be late, he reminded himself, reaching into his pocket again to finger the velvet box.
His expression grew tender and a smile stole over his face. He’d hinted to Tess that big things were up at school and he might have some news after the board meeting. So she was expecting a celebration dinner. But although the addition of an assistant principal was definitely worth celebrating, he had an entirely different kind of celebration in mind.
“That was a fabulous dinner,” Tess declared, leaning back with a sigh in the upholstered chair. “And so is this restaurant,” she added, glancing around admiringly at the discreetly elegant decor.
“And how about the company?” Mitch teased with a smile.
Her gaze returned to his, and her own lips curved up. “Even better than the food and the setting,” she assured him softly.
He reached for her hand and leaned closer. “I was hoping you’d say that.”
Tess studied him for a moment in the candlelight. It still astounded her that this amazing man had come into her life. He was handsome, yes. But even more, he had integrity and character and compassion and honor—all the qualities that really mattered, but which were so lacking in her first husband. Those were the qualities that had made her fall in love with him.
Best of all, he loved her, too. He’d told her so. But he’d also made it clear that he was scared. And that he’d never planned to marry again. He’d been very up front about that. But she sensed that, like her, he’d undergone a change of heart in recent weeks.
Because more and more, she had come to believe that having Mitch in her life—in their lives—was in both Bruce’s and her best interests. Mitch had graciously offered her time to think things through, but she didn’t need any more time to make up her mind. She wanted him in her life. For always. And maybe it was time to tell him that.
Tess took a deep breath and opened her mouth to speak, only to be interrupted by the waiter.
“Could I offer you two some coffee or dessert?”
It took Tess a moment to switch gears, and Mitch seemed to be having the same problem. At last they reluctantly broke eye contact and looked up at the waiter.
“Coffee for both of us,” Mitch said, then transferred his gaze to Tess. “How about dessert?” He winked at her wickedly. “I will if you will.”
She smiled and reached for her purse, glad now for the interruption. She needed to escape for a moment, compose her thoughts, decide exactly what she wanted to say to Mitch so she didn’t sound pushy, just receptive. “Anything chocolate will be fine. Surprise me,” she said as she stood. “Will you excuse me for a moment?”
Mitch stood as well, and the warmth in his smile made her tingle. “Hurry back.”
He watched her disappear before he took his seat again and turned back to the waiter. “You heard the lady. Bring us two of your best chocolate desserts.”
The waiter bowed slightly. “Of course.”
Mitch reached for his wineglass and leaned back, willing his pulse to slow down. In a few minutes he was going to ask Tess to be his wife. And he wasn’t at all sure of her answer. Yes, they’d acknowledged their love. But they’d also acknowledged their reservations. He’d admitted his fear. What he hadn’t yet told her was that now he was more afraid of living without her than of taking another chance on love. On her side, she’d told him of her concerns about Bruce, and he’d promised to give it a little time and see how things worked out. Maybe he was rushing it. But frankly, his patience was wearing thin. He wanted her with him every day, wanted to wake up beside her in the morning and hold her in his arms through the night. He wanted their lives to merge. He wanted to create a new, shared life together. And he didn’t want to wait any longer to tell her that. He reached in again and touched the velvet case. In just a few minutes he would…
His pager began to vibrate, and he automatically reached to his belt and shut it off. He probably should have left it in the car, he realized with a frown. That would have eliminated the possibility of distractions. Since he used the pager only for emergencies, the vibrating warning always signaled a crisis of some kind. Karen had the number, as did the president of the school board. And the police, in case there was an off-hours emergency at the school. So a vibrating pager was not a good omen.
Mitch debated for a moment, fighting against the urge to check the message. Tonight was supposed to be about him and Tess, alone, and he resented the intrusion. But it simply wasn’t in his nature to ignore an emergency—much as he might want to.
He checked his pager. The message was cryptic, and it was from the police. “Please call ASAP.”
Mitch felt his stomach clench. He’d never been paged by the police. Something must be very wrong.
“Mitch, wh
at is it?”
He looked over at Tess, who had already taken her seat, and frowned. “I don’t know. The police just paged me.”
Her face grew concerned. “You’d better call right away.”
“Yeah.” He hesitated for one more moment, then laid his napkin on the table and stood. “I’ll be right back,” he promised. “And I’m sorry about the interruption.”
She waved his apology aside. “Emergencies come up. Take your time.”
He sent her a grateful look and his eyes grew tender. “Thanks for understanding.”
It took Mitch only a moment to locate a phone, and a few seconds after that he was talking to the sergeant on duty, whom he knew.
“Thanks for calling so quickly, Mitch.”
“Sure, Jack. What’s up?”
“Steve just called in. They’ve got an OD situation, and they found your name and phone number in the kid’s pocket. No other ID. Could be one of your students. We need you to do a positive ID.”
Mitch’s grip tightened on the phone. “Is he…still alive?”
“No.”
He closed his eyes and sucked in his breath, feeling the color drain from his face. “Where is he?”
The sound of papers being rustled came over the wire, and then the sergeant gave Mitch the location—a small, largely unused park in Southfield.
“I can be there in fifteen minutes.”
“You don’t need to do that, Mitch. Might be easier just to stop by the morgue in an hour or so.”
“No. I’ll go. Thanks, Jack.”
“Sure. I’ll let Steve know you’re on the way.”
The line went dead, and Mitch slowly replaced the receiver. His hands were shaking, and he jammed them into the pockets of his slacks, fists clenched. Dear God, it was like being plunged back into his own nightmare! It wasn’t his son this time. But it was someone’s son. And deep in his gut he had a feeling he knew who it was. Very few of his students were likely to carry his phone number. Except Tony Watson, who had come to him on more than one occasion to talk through his problems. Who had thought of Mitch as his friend, as someone he could count on. The knot in his stomach twisted more tightly.
He hadn’t even reached the table before Tess was on her feet and reaching for her purse. “What’s wrong?” she asked, panic edging her voice. “Is it Bruce?”
He shook his head. “No. But the police think they’ve found one of my students. He overdosed. My name was in his pocket, and there was no other ID. They need me to come and identify him.”
“Oh, dear God!” Tess breathed, her face a mask of shock. “Is he…is he alive?”
Mitch shook his head.
She swallowed, and he could see the sheen of tears in her eyes. “Do you want me to come with you?”
Though he hadn’t expected that offer, he was tempted to take it. Maybe it would be easier to face if Tess was beside him. But that was selfish. He couldn’t subject her to the scene in the park. He’d been there before, and he knew it would give her nightmares for months. Slowly he shook his head. “You don’t need to see this. I’ll have the restaurant call you a cab.”
She studied his face for a moment, then nodded. “Okay.”
He reached out to her then, laced his fingers with hers. “I’m sorry about this, Tess.”
Her earnest gaze connected with his. “Don’t be. I understand.” And then she moved closer and wrapped her arms around him, as if she sensed his need for some concrete sign of reassurance and support. Despite the curious, if discreet, glances of diners at nearby tables, he held her fiercely, letting her love envelop him and insulate him for just a moment from the horror ahead, drawing from her the courage to face what was to come.
“Be careful,” she whispered close to his ear.
“I will.”
“Call me later?”
“It could be late.”
“I’ll be up.”
“Okay.”
Reluctantly he released her and stepped away, hesitating long enough to reach over and touch her face. She covered his hand with hers, and for a moment their hearts touched. Then he turned away.
He looked back once, when he reached the door. Tess was still standing by the table, her beautiful features bathed in the golden glow of candlelight. And suddenly he had the oddest feeling. It was almost as if his time with Tess had been merely a dream, a brief respite from his true reality—a destiny of nightmares and loneliness. And as he stepped out into the night, a frightening sense of foreboding swept over him that the dream was about to come to an end.
It was a scene right out of his nightmare. The harsh glare of spotlights. The static buzz of walkie-talkies. The flashing lights on police cars. Reporters jockeying for position behind the police barricade. It was surrealistic—and all too familiar.
Mitch hesitated on the sidelines until Steve noticed him and came forward.
“Sorry to interrupt your evening, Mitch,” the officer said.
Mitch tried to speak, but nothing came out. He cleared his throat and tried again. “No problem.”
Steve lifted the police tape and Mitch ducked under. “He’s over there.” The man pointed to a heavily wooded section of the park, then led the way.
Mitch followed. His legs felt wooden, and he had to concentrate on simply putting one foot in front of the other. Steve held aside the brush as they made their way about ten yards into the woods, to a small clearing where a draped body lay. For a moment Mitch thought he was going to lose his dinner, and he forced himself to take several slow, deep breaths.
“I guess you’ve been here before, in your police days,” the officer said sympathetically.
The man’s comment jolted Mitch, until he reminded himself that no one on the force knew about David. The man was simply talking in generic terms. “Yeah.”
“You never get used to it, though, do you?”
Mitch’s throat tightened. “No.”
Steve reached down to lift the drape, and Mitch steeled himself. A moment later, when the boy’s face was revealed in the glare of a flashlight, his fears were confirmed.
“Do you know him?” Steve asked.
Mitch nodded jerkily. “Tony Watson. He…he was one of my students.”
The man gently lowered the shroud and stood, taking down the information Mitch provided on the boy’s parents. Then he closed his notebook and gazed down at the draped form, shaking his head. “What a waste.” Steve sighed and turned back to Mitch, holding out his hand. “Listen, thanks for coming over. Sorry to interrupt your plans for the evening.”
As Mitch made his way back to his car, Steve’s words echoed ominously in his mind. For in his gut he had the disquieting premonition that the man had interrupted not only his plans for the evening, but his plans for his life.
Why hadn’t Tony called?
The question echoed in Mitch’s mind as he drove home. He’d tried so hard to get through to the boy, to let him know that he had a friend, anytime, day or night.
Why hadn’t he called?
Mitch went over and over the situation in his mind as he drove. Where had he failed? He’d talked to the boy’s parents, though their lack of interest had been evident. He’d set up counseling for Tony, but the boy had gone to only one session. He’d tried to get Tony involved in any number of school activities, introduce him to new people, but always the boy returned to the gang. What else could he have done? he asked himself helplessly.
Mitch pulled into his driveway and for a long moment simply sat behind the wheel, too weary to move. Right about now he had hoped to be planning a future with the woman he loved. Instead, a boy was dead, with no future to look forward to. And somehow he felt at fault. There was something he was missing, some connection he wasn’t making, that would point the finger of guilt at him. He knew that instinctively, and his instincts had rarely failed him.
With a tired sigh Mitch eased himself out of the car and let himself into the silent, dark house. The message light was blinking on the phone as he passed,
and he remembered his promise to call Tess. It was getting late, but she was probably still…
He stopped abruptly, and suddenly the missing connection fell into place. Tony had had Mitch’s phone number in his pocket. Which meant he hadn’t forgotten about Mitch’s offer of help. But Mitch had left the office without checking his voice mail. Nor had he checked his home voice mail since early this afternoon.
A sick feeling of dread enveloped him as he stared at the blinking light on his answering machine. He didn’t want to play back his voice mail—here or at work. But he couldn’t hide from the truth. With his heart hammering in his chest, he reached for the phone and forced himself to dial his voice mail at work.
The first few messages were innocuous. The sixth one was like a punch in the gut.
“Mr. Jackson, this is Tony. Tony Watson. Listen, things are kind of…kind of rough right now, you know? I just wanted to talk to somebody, and you said to call anytime so…well, I’m calling. I need to do something to feel better soon, you know? Listen, I’ll, uh, I’ll try your home number. Yeah. Thanks.”
The time on the message was a little after five.
Mitch felt as if his lungs were in a vise, as if the air was being squeezed out of them. Tony had tried to call him. He had reached out. Except Mitch hadn’t been there.
A muscle in his jaw clenched, and he punched the button on his home machine, which showed two messages. Both were from Tony, and had clearly been made from a cell phone.
“Hey, Mr. Jackson, if you’re there maybe you could pick up? It’s me, Tony Watson…” There was a pause, and Mitch heard the desperate note in his voice. “Okay, I guess not. Look, life’s pretty bad, you know? My mom’s gone to Europe or someplace for work, and Dad’s pretty out of it on the booze. He’s not real nice when he’s drunk, so I’ve been trying to stay out of his way. Only, there’s nowhere to go. And school stinks, too. All the kids are creeps—except the guys. I know you don’t like me to hang around with them, but a guy’s gotta have somebody, you know? And they gave me some stuff to try…. They said it would help me feel better. I don’t know, though…”