by Kim O'Brien
Ty drew an exaggerated breath, as if this news were monumental. “No wonder Mother Tilly is scared,” he said.
Laney frowned. “She doesn’t have to worry, and neither do you. I know all about safety catches.”
“When I’m around you, there is no such thing as safety,” Ty muttered. “I’m beginning to feel sorry for Rock.”
“Fine,” Laney said. “Feel sorry for him all you want, but spare me the details.” She turned on her heel and shot him a look. “I’ve got lockers to search.”
Ty waited until her back was fully turned before he released the smile he’d been struggling to hide for the last five minutes. He wanted to shake her for playing with guns; at the same time, he wanted to laugh until his ribs ached. He could accuse her of many things, but he couldn’t deny that when he was around her the blood pumped gladly through his veins, the air sang in his lungs, and the sunlight held an electric touch on his skin.
For a moment, he allowed himself to imagine that light coming into his house, blasting away the shadows, filling the empty spaces with something that had been absent for a long time—the sense of joy.
And then he reminded himself that she was engaged to another man and her father was his opponent in a close race for sheriff. And if that wasn’t enough, he’d been left at the altar and cleaned out financially.
Holding these thoughts firmly, Ty pushed the smile to the back of his mind, arranged his features into his best professional scowl, and walked toward the front door of the high school.
Ty studied the locked doorway for a moment then took a slim tool out of his pocket. He inserted the piece of metal into the keyhole, twisting and simultaneously throwing his shoulder against the door. With a loud popping sound, the door flung open.
When they entered the building, Ty’s heart began to pound. Everything his eyes took in—the glossy, waxed floors; the walls painted an ugly, toxic green; the stainless steel water fountain—reminded him of another school and another time.
For once, he welcomed the ghosts that swirled around him. A sour smell filled Ty’s nostrils. “What’s that smell?” Ty looked at Angel suspiciously.
“It’s not Angel,” Laney replied. “Maybe it’s the school.” She lifted the hair off the back of her neck with her one free hand. “It’s hot in here. They must have turned the air-conditioning down for the weekend.” She held the dog in the air, just under Ty’s nose. “Here, take a whiff.”
The last thing Ty wanted to do was smell the hairy dog raised like a sacrifice to his nose. He had no choice, however, but to sniff the dog that was close enough to lick his face and who proceeded to do exactly that. Although he made a sound of disgust, the hot pink tongue that washed his face comforted him. “Some police dog,” he muttered. “Probably aced the classes in licking criminals to death.”
Laney giggled softly. “Nope, but he was the only dog in his class that could do a handstand.”
Ty stopped in his tracks. “What?”
Laney tugged his arm. “Come on. Do you want to check lockers or not?”
“Yes, but with a dog that does handstands?”
“He has many talents.” She took a step forward. “Let’s get going. We’ve got a lot of ground to cover.”
Ty shrugged off the feeling of impending doom and followed her. He was only too glad to get off the subject of the dog. “You seem to know your way around here pretty well.”
“I went to school here,” Laney replied. “And you know our church meets in the gymnasium.” She pointed to a door on their right. “There’s the biology classroom. Want to see the exact spot where I threw up when we were dissecting frogs?”
“I’ll pass on that,” Ty said, swallowing hard his own memory of hundreds of frogs hopping out of the biology classroom as Mickey triumphantly herded them to safety.
Coming to the double doors, Ty stopped Laney again and peered covertly into the dark recesses of the stairwell. Satisfied that all was clear, he moved them up the stairs to the second floor.
Starting at the far left of the building, they began searching lockers.
It was slow work. First Laney let Angel sniff the bottom of the locker, and then she held him up to the vents so he could smell the upper half. The little dog moved slowly around the perimeters of the lockers, his big ears upright and alert, his black nose delicately brushing the metal surfaces.
For the most part, Ty watched with his arms crossed. He had a feeling they were on a wild goose chase, that even if the contents necessary to build an atom bomb were within one of these lockers, Angel would walk right past it. That meant he was there for only one reason, and that reason was standing right in front of him. The thought did little to improve his mood.
He disciplined himself not to speak to her for the first thirty minutes, and then he got bored with the silence. “So how’s the studying for the premarital exam going?”
Laney lifted the dog. “Fine,” she said. “We’ve been through three volumes of the cookbooks.”
Ty grinned. “What about studying things about you? Does he know about you being a black belt and winning that sharpshooting title and Angel’s degree from doggie Quantico?”
Laney swallowed visibly. Ty tried not to enjoy her look of discomfort. She didn’t have to tell him Rock didn’t know these things; he saw it in her eyes. He was about to continue teasing her when he heard a noise.
“Get Angel,” he hissed at Laney. “Someone’s coming.”
After giving Ty a quick, agonized look at the thought of discovery, Laney sprang into action. She ran after Angel, startling the dog so badly he bolted. “Angel!” she called.
Ty turned at the panic in her voice. He watched the dog disappear down the long corridor. He twisted the knob of a nearby classroom and found it locked. “Forget the dog,” he ordered.
Other classrooms proved to be locked. Now the sound of footsteps echoed more loudly, and he heard the click of a door opening.
Ty tried another door. As it swung open, he pulled Laney inside a small, dark room. He banged his head on a shelf and knocked a roll of toilet paper into the metal bucket at his feet. Two brooms hit him in the back of the head as he wiggled deeper into the shallow closet, pulling Laney after him.
A metal bucket was between his feet, and an electric floor polisher pressed into his leg. The room smelled of disinfectants and detergent. Laney’s head brushed his shoulder, smelling of lilacs and summer, sunshine, and something so faint he bent closer, trying to define it.
He ordered himself to pull back, as if he commanded troops that faced sure and complete annihilation if the retreat were not imminent.
“Ty?”
He heard Angel whine just outside the door. The dog must have heard Laney’s voice.
“Ty?”
Pressing himself deeper into the closet, he bumped a shelf. The next thing he knew, something hard clunked him on the top of his head.
“Ouch.” He instantly promised never to purchase powdered cleanser again, if that’s what the can turned out to be.
Laney giggled. “Are you okay?”
Before he could reply, the door to the broom closet swung open. A small woman with big hair teased into a great yellow bouffant stared back at him.
“Mrs. Henley!” Laney exclaimed in a voice so falsely bright that Ty cringed. “How nice to see you again.” Laney stepped out of the broom closet with her chin held high. Ty caught the push broom before it hit her in the back.
The muscles in the older woman’s neck quivered before any words came out. “Laney Varner? What are you doing in that broom closet? And who is this man?”
“Detective Ty Steele,” Ty said, deftly stepping around the tipped metal bucket and ignoring the can of cleanser that rolled out behind him.
Mrs. Henley’s eyes narrowed from behind her red, wire-rimmed glasses. “You’re the one running for sheriff.” Her right eyebrow arched. “I’m sure there’s a good reason for all that clanging around in the broom closet.”
Laney turned brick red.
“It’s not what you think,” she said.
“We’re here on police business,” Ty said, aware of how absurd this sounded yet saying it anyway.
“Police business?” Mrs. Henley asked. “I suppose you’re checking to see if our electric floor buffer is up to code.”
Laney threw her shoulders back. “Detective Steele and I are spot-checking lockers,” she said. “Our canine officer is on site.”
“Canine officer?”
Laney pointed at the papillon that had recovered from its fright and now nosed curiously around the principal’s ankles.
The older woman squinted at the dog. “That’s a canine officer?” She sniffed. “And underneath this gray suit I’m wearing a Wonder Woman costume.”
The thought of the strict principal in a superhero costume nearly undid Ty. Before he could stop himself, he glanced sideways at Laney, who had her hand smashed over her mouth. As their gazes met, Laney’s face attained the deepest shade of red he’d ever seen.
“You may joke, ma’am,” Ty said quietly, “but we’ve received an anonymous tip that one of your students may be hiding arms on the premises.”
Mrs. Henley put her hands on her hips. “A student hiding guns? No way. Somebody is playing a joke here.” She looked pointedly at Ty.
“It’s no joke,” Ty replied.
“I suppose your tip told you there were machine guns in the broom closet?” The woman’s hairdo seemed to puff out in a mute statement of incredulity.
Laney looked at the ground. Her shoulders shook. This didn’t help Ty’s own suicidal urge to laugh. Since when had he lost his senses? “I can assure you we’re here on police business.”
Mrs. Henley’s eyes blinked rhythmically as she considered Ty’s words. She frowned as Ty held her gaze without flinching. Angel, evidently bored from the discussion, trotted down the aisle. He began sniffing at the lockers then stopped in front of one and began to bark.
“That’s his cry!” Laney said in amazement. “He’s found something.”
“It’s illegal to search a locker without a warrant,” the principal said. Her eyes hardened. “Come back with a search warrant.”
“Are you sure?” Ty said. “The dog smells something.”
“I can smell a rat, too,” Mrs. Henley said.
“It wouldn’t hurt to look,” Laney urged quietly. “If something did happen, how could you live with yourself?”
Ty leaned closer to the principal. “It could be a Glock or a pair of ripe gym socks in there.” He pulled a piece of worn paper from his wallet and unfolded it carefully. “I copied this from a drawing I found in the school courtyard.” He paused while she examined the drawing. “You still want to bet there’s a pair of moldy socks in there?”
She studied Ty’s eyes for a long time, and then she nodded her agreement. “We’ll look, but if this is a practical joke, you’ll both get detention until Christmas!”
Eighteen
Ty stepped around the excited dog to examine locker B-2003. It looked exactly like the other battered gray lockers surrounding it, give or take a dent. “Step back,” Ty ordered as Laney and Mrs. Henley peered over his shoulder.
Frowning in concentration, Ty entered the numbers from the drawing he’d found in the gravel. After he’d entered the last number, he pulled the handle. The lock held. Frowning, Ty tried variations of the number but met with the same result.
Mrs. Henley’s right eyebrow arched. “I’m sure this is pointless.” She paused. “But since you’ll probably open it with a crowbar if I don’t get the combination, I’ll help you.”
As the principal shuffled off, Ty turned to Laney. “Are you sure Angel knows what he’s doing?”
Laney looked at Angel, who sat at attention in front of the locker. “Yes.”
“Because we could call it all off right now.”
“I’m sure,” Laney said.
“Okay then.”
Laney leaned against a locker. The metal felt cool and hard on her back. She thought about how they had hid in the broom closet. When the can of cleanser had rolled out behind Ty, her ribs had ached with the need to laugh. She wondered if it was too late for her and Rock to have fun together or if their lives would always be as respectable and predictable as she had thought she wanted.
Could she go through with her marriage to Rock? She liked him and admired his relationship with God. But she wondered if this was what God wanted for her.
She shot a glance at Ty. He looked like such a tough guy leaning up against the lockers, an aging football player who could still muscle his way through life.
When she had discovered the note in church, she had been so sure she had been given a chance to help someone who needed it. Now, however, she had begun to realize that she herself might be the one who needed help.
A low growl erupted from Angel, announcing the principal’s return. Bending, Laney smoothed the ridge of hair that had arisen along the dog’s back. She frowned thoughtfully. Usually Angel only reacted like this when—
Her jaw dropped open. Not only had Mrs. Henley returned, but she had also brought along Rock and her father.
Even at this distance, she could see the disapproval in the tight set of her father’s mouth. As they halted in front of the locker, he addressed Ty. “You think there’s a gun in the locker?” He drawled the words sarcastically, as if this were as likely as finding Barney the dinosaur.
Ty colored but held the older man’s gaze. “Won’t know what’s inside until we open it.”
“I want to talk to you alone.” Her father’s voice came from nearly immobile lips, another sure sign of his anger. Laney’s stomach clenched as the two of them set off together.
“What you all were doing wasn’t right,” the principal stated, “so I called the sheriff.”
“Laney.” Rock gently touched her arm. “What are you doing here?”
His eyebrows lifted in what might have been an expression of concern and support.
Laney tried to arrange her features into the composed expression of a person completely in charge of her senses, as if conducting an illegal locker search with a seven-pound papillon in an empty high school was an ordinary occurrence. “Looking for guns.”
“Steele put you up to this, didn’t he?” Rock didn’t wait for her answer. “Don’t you see this has everything to do with the election? Your father’s reelection is important to me, Laney,” he whispered. “It’s important to us.”
“So is stopping a school shooting,” Laney said. She ran her fingers through her hair, knowing it was hopeless to make him understand.
“Laney, you belong in your pet shop, not on a SWAT team.” The tips of his moustache quivered. “You’re aligning yourself with your father’s chief rival.”
“I’m not aligning myself with anyone,” Laney said, holding his gaze. “I’m trying to do the right thing.”
Rock drew back. “This isn’t my Laney talking to me,” he said. He searched her face with a mixture of disappointment and suspicion.
“I never told you, Rock, but Angel went to the Canine Development Center in Austin. He’s trained to sniff out firearms.”
A ripple of emotion passed over his face as Rock made his disbelief obvious. “Sure,” he said. “He probably was Rin Tin Tin’s body double, too.” He laughed loudly.
“That’s why I didn’t tell you before,” Laney said. Her fists clenched. “I knew you’d make a big joke about it. You always do.”
“Well, honey,” Rock said, “that’s what I love about you. The way you make me laugh.” His expression softened as he looked into her eyes. “Let’s not fight about this. You’re not yourself, and it’s because you’re stressed out about the premarital exam.” He stroked her cheek. “You’re going to ace it this time. Even my mother couldn’t tell your lasagna from hers in the taste test last night.”
Laney’s chin lifted. “This isn’t about the exam or the lasagna. Angel may have found a gun.”
Rock’s eyebrows quivered. Laney fought the
urge to reach up and physically hold them in place.
“There are no guns in that locker,” Rock said firmly. “If you believe there are, you need more help than I thought.” He reached for Laney’s arm. “Let’s go.”
“Angel smells firearms in that locker,” Laney insisted.
“That dog couldn’t scent a firecracker if it went off under his nose,” Rock said.
“There are guns,” Laney said. “I just know it.”
At her words, Rock released Laney’s arm and fingered his moustache thoughtfully. His eyebrows calmed, and a spark of interest appeared in his eyes. “If I look in that locker and don’t find a gun in there, will you agree to take some stress management courses?”
Laney’s chin lifted at the challenge. “I will.”
“Okay,” Rock said. Turning, he called down the hallway. “Come on, G. C. Stop giving Steele a hard time and open up this locker.”
Nineteen
“It’s at your discretion, Beulah,” Laney’s father said. An angry-looking flush had spread across his weathered brown cheeks. “We’ve got no warrant or just cause to open it.”
“We’ll open the locker,” the principal said. She smiled at Laney. “My cousin is a family counselor. If you turn out to need it, I can give you his number.”
Ty turned to Laney. “What’s that all about?”
Laney tried not to squirm under Ty’s intense stare. She couldn’t simply blurt out that if Angel didn’t find weapons in the locker, she’d promised to take stress management classes.
As Ty’s glance lingered on Laney, Rock’s arm slipped proprietarily around Laney’s waist. “It’s private.”
The muscles in Ty’s jaw tightened.
Before Laney could explain, Beulah swung the locker door open.
A poster of Jimi Hendricks stared at them from the back of the door. A long tear ran from the bottom of the poster past Hendricks’s knees.
Her gaze drifted to the blue and red nylon running jacket that hung on a hook beside a dark blue T-shirt. A stack of books sat on the shelf, and a brown paper bag lay wedged between a pair of high-top, black sneakers and a half-filled water bottle.