“Sure. Those two keep better tabs on each other than John does. I’ll start calling Neil’s friends’ parents.”
“Let me know if you hear anything, please, and I’ll do the same.” Sara found Jeremy in the lunchroom, sitting next to Theo. “Hey, guys. How’s your Monday going?”
“Not too bad,” Theo said. Jeremy toyed with the crust on a sandwich.
“Jeremy?”
“Fine, I guess.” The boy spoke to his sandwich.
Sara slid into a chair opposite them. The lunchroom was just beginning to fill up, and many people had opted to eat on the picnic tables outside and enjoy the unusually mild autumn weather. The closest students were a table away. “What’d you guys do this weekend?”
“Dad and I talked about painting my room.” Theo’s gaze darted sideways at Jeremy, as if he, too, noted there was an issue that nobody was talking about. “It’s my birthday soon, and I get to pick a new color scheme. Dad says it has to last me for the next few years. That’s if he gets around to actually doing it, though. He’s been really busy.”
“I’m sure he will, especially since it’s a birthday present. What colors did you pick?”
“Navy and Chicago Bulls red.”
“Sweet.” She turned to Jeremy. “How about you?”
He shrugged. The crust of his sandwich lay in a heap on his tray. He hadn’t eaten a bite of it. “Not much.”
“I hear you were at your dad’s this weekend.”
Jeremy’s gaze shot up. His mouth tightened. “Did you talk to him?”
“No. Your mother mentioned it when I called looking for Neil. I’d really like to talk to your brother.”
“So would I.” Fear tinged his words and Sara felt a new level of alarm.
“What do you mean? You don’t know how to reach him?”
“He ran away.”
She controlled her surprise. “When?”
“Saturday night. He and my dad had a fight. Neil doesn’t think he’s good enough for Dad...not good enough to be a Rochard.” Jeremy scooped the crusts into his hand and balled them up. Did he think the same thing—that he wasn’t good enough?
“Did your dad call the police?”
“No. He said Neil will show up after he’s cooled off.”
In the meantime, anything could happen to the kid. Sara hoped Claire was having some luck calling the families of Neil’s friends. “Thank you for telling me. I can see how concerned you are.”
“I told Neil he’s good enough for me.”
She smiled. “I’m sure he appreciated that. And he knows you love him. He’ll be fine.”
Jeremy looked at her with hope. “You’ll find him, then?”
She gnawed on her lip. She could search from this side of Neil’s world, starting with talking to his teachers. “I’ll try my best.”
After leaving the boys to finish their lunch, Sara found Cheryl at her desk and had her run off a copy of Neil’s Friday schedule. She walked through the last day he’d been at the school, asking each teacher what he had been like and who he’d talked to. The picture was sadly the same with each class...he’d been quiet and unusually withdrawn all week. His final class on Friday had been Computer Science. She found Chad White in the teacher’s lounge.
Chad’s eyebrows drew together in a V as she explained the problem. “Sure, I remember talking to him after class. He wanted to do some searching online before his father came to pick him up. I gave him a temporary password. He’s a good kid, so I trusted him.”
“Did he do that in the classroom?”
“No, the library. I purposely keep the classroom computers offline so there can’t be any attempts to goof around on the internet. The library has a couple computers for online research, if the student has the password.”
“Any idea what he was looking at?”
“No, but I can find out easily enough.”
She mentally crossed her fingers, feeling optimistic for the first time that day. “That would be great.”
The library was on the third floor, where large windows overlooked the front lawn and rows of bookshelves housed a generous collection of books. She remembered seeing Neil studying at the large wooden table several weeks ago. He’d been working so hard. Had he given up because he was disappointed in his test scores? They’d been making headway with his confidence too. One week of verbal attacks from his father had knocked all his progress flat.
Chad pulled a chair out at one of the computers and sat down. “This is where Neil was working when I helped him log in.” A few drags and clicks later, Chad had brought up the search history from Friday. The last website address was for a military recruiter in this area of town.
“Could I see that site, please?”
Chad loaded the page in the browser. “Unless he was writing a report on the Armed Forces, it looks like he was thinking of joining the Army.”
* * *
Neil had met with the recruiter, whose office was in a corner of the mall only five minutes from the school, on Saturday. They’d had a lengthy chat, and the guy had even taken Neil to lunch. Neil, with his brains, brawn and political connections, was apparently being wooed.
Sara found it alarming—not because the military wasn’t a fine choice for a young man, but because Neil was a young man whose emotions were a pendulum. After a week of John’s constant berating, she worried that Neil would jump into the first thing that felt good...booze, a cult, or the military...at least the military was a relatively healthy outlet. She just wanted him to have the luxury of making such a life-changing choice under the best possible circumstances. The only saving grace in this mess was that he wasn’t old enough to sign up for a few more weeks. The recruiter sounded confident Neil would be back.
Saturday. According to Jeremy, that had been the night he’d fought with John. Where had Neil gone that night, and where had he been staying since? He was a well-liked young man with many friends. One of them had to know something.
“He was with another young man,” the recruiter offered.
“Who?”
“The kid didn’t want to get involved. Guess he was just there because Neil wanted company, but I did hear Neil call him Lance.”
“Thanks,” Sara said. “I know him.” According to the computer’s attendance record, Lance was in school today. He’d likely be heading to the football field for after-school practice. After she hung up with the recruiter, she called Claire Rochard to exchange information.
Claire’s voice was thick with unshed tears. “I’ve been at my wits’ end, calling everyone I can think of. I didn’t get to Lance’s mom yet. I don’t know her as well.”
“I’ll talk to Lance. If he knows something, I’ll have him contact Neil right away.”
“Thank you. Keep me posted. Please.” Her voice broke. It couldn’t be easy for Claire. She’d been struggling through a divorce for months now, and John certainly wasn’t one to take responsibility or make it easy on anyone.
“Have you talked to John? Does he know what’s happening?” Sara had hoped to avoid dealing with the man herself.
“We communicate only through attorneys now. I left him a message.”
On the football field it only took a hard look from Sara to have Lance opening his mouth and spilling the details. “I told him he had to call someone by tonight or I would tell his parents where he was. Besides, my parents would have discovered him staying in our guesthouse sooner or later. I want to help, but I don’t want to get in the middle, you know?”
Sara was all too familiar with the middle and how uncomfortable it was. “Call him. Tell him everyone’s worried and if he doesn’t come home, we’ll have to involve the police.” Maybe Neil didn’t care about worrying his father right now, but he was close to his grandfather, who wouldn’t be happy about how news of this wo
uld impact his campaign.
Lance made the call and, after a brief conversation out of Sara’s hearing, hung up. “He’ll be here in twenty.”
Twenty minutes later, Sara was waiting with Claire in front of the school as a red BMW convertible came up the drive.
“That’s him,” Claire said. She dabbed at her eyes with a tissue. “John insisted on buying him a car for his last birthday, but I had strict limits on how much he could drive it. John didn’t agree.”
Sara was so relieved to see Neil drive up that she nearly ran down the steps and hugged him. Claire beat her to it, but immediately released him and started shaking her finger.
“Don’t you ever do that again,” Claire said. “The Army? Is that what you want to do, get yourself killed?” The words spewed out of her but stopped abruptly as John’s car roared up the winding driveway. He braked just short of Neil and Claire. Jeremy came running out of the building and Sara reached out to grab his arm and pull him to a stop next to her before he could immerse himself in the situation.
“I want to talk to Neil,” Jeremy protested. Following on the heels of Jeremy, Theo had reached her other side.
“Me too,” she said. “Let’s go together.” Maybe they’d break the tension and be able to assess the situation as they approached.
John unfolded himself from his car. “Making trouble again?” His icy words made Neil flinch. Jeremy’s muscles stiffened.
Neil rounded the car to face off with his father. “I was trying to figure things out on my own. I can’t think in that house. You don’t approve of anything I do anyway, so I might as well do what I want.”
“Is the Army what you want?” Claire asked.
“It was good enough for Grandpa.”
Jeremy ran to his brother. “Don’t leave.” Neil put a hand on his shoulder.
Unfortunately, Jeremy’s action had brought John’s attention to Sara. “This is your fault. You’ve been trying to ruin things for months now.”
“It’s not her fault, Dad.” All eyes turned to Neil as he stood up for Sara. “She’s only trying to help me.”
“She’s going to help you right onto the streets. You listen to her advice and you’ll be a nobody. Look where she’s at—alone, divorced, living in an apartment above a boys’ school.”
“That’s enough.” Claire spoke up this time, her gaze pointedly surveying the crowd of students and teachers who were beginning to gather on the lawn to watch the spectacle. “Let’s go home, Neil. We’ll talk there.”
“He’ll go with me,” John insisted.
“Oh, because that worked out so well last time?” Claire’s voice was saccharine-sweet. “I don’t think so. Starting today, it’s my week with the boys, anyway.” She reached for Jeremy’s hand and tugged her sons toward her car.
John turned his glare from the retreating trio to Sara. “I’ll be speaking to the board again first thing tomorrow morning. Light a fire under them. You might want to dust off your resume and start packing.”
Chapter Fourteen
“You busy?” Neil stood in her office doorway the next day.
“Not really. Come in.” Sara closed down the file she’d been composing—a list of all the reasons she wanted to stay at the Academy. All the reasons she would fight John’s campaign to have her fired. She’d received several concerned phone calls from the various board members since John’s threat. They would be visiting the school next Friday to see her in action for themselves. Her stomach ached, but more from anger than worry. “How are you?”
He took a seat. “Hanging in there. I just have to make it to my birthday in a few weeks and then I’m free, right?”
Tread carefully. The last thing Neil Rochard needed was another adult pushing or pulling him in a particular direction. “If by free, you mean you’ll be of legal age to make your own decisions, then yes.” But legal age didn’t always equal mental and emotional maturity. “And those decisions will be legally binding.”
“So you don’t think I should sign up for the military, either.” He narrowed his eyes, as if he searched her face for the answers to life.
“I didn’t say that. The military is a perfectly viable option. But it depends what you want. And nobody can make that decision but you.” She sighed and decided to tell him the truth, John and the board be damned. “I’m worried about you, Neil. You’re highly intelligent. You’ll be successful when you find something you’re passionate about. But is that the military? Or is the Army simply the closest emergency exit?”
Neil picked at an invisible thread on his jeans. “I don’t know.”
“Then don’t rush into any decisions. And for God’s sake, finish high school first.”
A smile played about his lips. “Yes, ma’am. The recruiter told me the same thing, anyway. I thought you weren’t trying to make my decisions for me.”
“Well, that one should be a no-brainer.”
He snorted. “That’s good...considering I have no brain.”
Her blood heated. “Is that what your dad’s been telling you?” She pressed her lips together to keep from calling John the names she’d been thinking all week. “You’ve got a fine brain and you’ll use it to figure out what you want.”
“Did you always want to be a director at a boys’ school?”
“Not always. But sometimes life takes you in different directions. I did know, however, that I enjoyed working with kids. The important thing is to follow a passion, and you’ll never regret it.” She knew then that she didn’t need any list. She would fight for her job. No matter what John thought, this was where she belonged.
Neil seemed to think over her comments. “I like sports. And when I hurt my knee last year, I thought some of the therapy stuff was pretty cool. I think I might like to be a physical therapist.”
The irony in that was that most parents would love it if their child were considering a health profession. “I know someone at Mercy Hospital. They could probably find you a volunteer position in the physical therapy department on the weekends, after football season and your night classes are over. You could see if it’s the type of career you’d be interested in.”
“Really?”
“In the meantime, research what education you’d need and which schools offer that curriculum. Especially focus on your math and science classes. Finish strong.”
“I will.”
“Good.”
Neil didn’t get up to leave. He looked at the ground, then at her. “I’m sorry about my dad. He’s putting you in a tough spot, isn’t he?”
A really tough spot. Not that she had anything to hide or be ashamed of, but the thought of four stern faces following her everywhere didn’t leave her with a warm-fuzzy feeling. Still, she’d been through tough times before, and her personal motto always got her through. “I’ll survive.”
* * *
Holt had just finished placing a couple last minute calls to set up Theo’s birthday surprise when the SSAM receptionist appeared in the doorway of his office. “There’s a call for you on line one.” It was unusual for Catherine to walk from her desk in the lobby to find him when she could have just phoned him, but the way she wrung her hands together was even more telling. “He says he’s Toxin.”
Holt immediately sat up and reached for the phone. “Hello?”
“Do I have to hold your hand so you can get things right?” The voice on the line was definitely male, and highly annoyed. The same voice that had called Holt on the tip hotline. It was clear, now that Holt heard it again, that Brady wasn’t Toxin.
Holt’s heart pumped harder. He pressed mute and looked at Catherine. “Get Max. And is Einstein in the office? Tell him to start a trace.” Catherine hustled out as he un-muted the line. “Who is this?” he asked, as if he didn’t know.
“This is Toxin,” the man on
the phone said, as if he were any Joe Schmo and the entire Chicago police force wasn’t looking for him. “I’ve been waiting.”
“For?” Holt was careful to match Toxin’s casual tone, but, on the inside, his heart was in his throat.
“For you to make a move.”
Tell me where you are and I will, you asshole.
“For you to see Sara again. And this time on a real date. She’s a good woman. She deserves better.”
Holt had to force himself to think past his shock. A serial killer was giving him relationship advice? This was a new twist, but it did fit with Toxin’s pattern of egomaniacal puppetry. And now Toxin had transferred his fascination from Holt to Sara. Holt’s heart pounded. He forced his words to convey calm disinterest when, inside, his mind was fast-forwarding to how he would get Becca back in position at the Academy right away. “Yes, she does. But how do you know her?”
He drew out his cell phone and set it on the desk in case Einstein had texted him. He hadn’t. He should have been on the case by now. The guy was always wired-in. He quickly typed a text to the communications expert. Tracing?
“She’s the whole package,” Toxin said. “Takes care of those boys all day, doesn’t go out at all. Barely leaves the school for anything. She’s devoted. Not to mention she’s a nice piece of ass.”
Holt found it difficult to talk past the rage threatening to consume him. “Sounds like you know her quite well.”
Einstein texted back. On it. Of course, if it was a throwaway phone again...
“I’ve been watching,” Toxin said. “As you should have been. I thought I made that clear weeks ago, but that obviously isn’t enough for you. So I’m going to have to take measures to see that she’s taken care of.”
Holt froze. “Taken care of?”
Toxin chuckled. “Not that kind of taken care of. But if you don’t step up, I will.”
Deadly Bonds Page 16