by Gayle Wilson
He laughed. “Yeah, I figured that. And afterward?”
“That depends on the kids. They go out to eat. Or to a party.” She didn’t particularly want to discuss with him the myriad other actions she knew students this age engaged in.
“Couples? Or groups?”
“Both.”
“Yours, too.”
“Mine are like all the others. They date. They hang out. They drive around. They stay out too late—”
“They burn churches.”
She closed her mouth, fighting to control her surge of anger. She was pleased with how rational she managed to sound when she was able to respond. “Not in my opinion. And I’ve yet to hear any credible evidence to the contrary.”
“Normally we don’t share that kind of evidence.”
“But you have it?”
She could hear the blatant need for reassurance in her question. Tuesday she’d been convinced that he was bluffing. Fishing for information. In the intervening days, for no reason she could pinpoint, that conviction had weakened.
“Despite the acknowledged charms of Ray Garrett’s recent pep talk, why else would I be here?”
And that was what bothered her. His surety. She could probably put that down to an inherent arrogance. A sense of self-worth that might have been born of success, but one that might also be based on nothing more than a mistaken belief in the superiority of anything not native to the region.
Like Jace Nolan himself.
“You caught me off guard on Tuesday, but since then…I’ve been thinking about what you said.”
She sensed that his attention had sharpened. The sensation was so strong it was almost physical.
“And?”
“And in all honesty,” she said, each word carefully enunciated, “none of my kids would do anything like that.”
“You just said they were like all the others. I’ve been doing a lot of research into the annals of youthful offenses around here. Despite the bucolic nature of the environment, these kids appear to get involved in the same kinds of criminal activities that they do in any other locale.”
“In the ten years I’ve been here, I can’t remember one of my students being mixed up in anything like that.”
“How would you know?”
“What?”
“Juvenile records are routinely sealed. Parents are under no obligation to tell the school about any charges or probations imposed on their children.”
“You’ve forgotten where you are, Detective Nolan. Everybody knows everything about everyone around here.”
“Except nobody knows who burned those churches. Or don’t you believe that?”
“Do you?”
“It doesn’t match my experience. Kids talk. Unless there’s a very strong reason not to.”
“Like a fear of prosecution. Or going to jail?”
“I meant talk among their peers.”
“As angry as people in this community are, whoever burned those churches would have to be very stupid to do that.”
“Bingo,” Nolan said, turning back to look into the gym.
The cheerleaders were gathering up their megaphones for a last cheer at center court. After that the band would play everyone out with another repetition of the fight song.
A few teachers and some of the parents were already making a break toward the two pairs of double doors. Although the other adults might continue to the parking lot, most of the faculty would do what she was doing: stand near the entrances to supervise the dismissal.
The fact that Lindsey was talking to the chief detective in charge of investigating the arsons would be noticed. It would undoubtedly cause comment and maybe even questions, neither of which she was eager to deal with.
“If that’s your so-called evidence for thinking my kids were involved—”
“It does make sense, doesn’t it?”
A couple of people had reached the doorway where they were standing, providing Lindsey with an excuse to move off to the side. After nodding in response to the curious stares of departing parents, Nolan followed.
“You and Carlisle seem to be right.”
“I’m sorry?” Had Shannon’s ex actually approached him?
“You said everybody here knows everybody’s business. I guess they know everybody, too. They seem to be trying to figure out who I am and why I’m here.”
“We’ve all been warned often enough about strangers in the school.”
“Except I had no trouble walking right into the building. Not on Tuesday. Not today. Apparently your administration doesn’t take those kinds of warnings very seriously.”
“The curiosity you admit to arousing is, in itself, a safeguard.”
“Against outsiders. Statistically, however, that isn’t the real threat in any high school.”
He was right, of course. The school tragedies in this country had almost all been student-directed.
That didn’t mean that the students here posed a threat, she reminded herself. Just as the fact the arsons had occurred in this general vicinity didn’t mean anyone from this community had been involved.
The 3:00 p.m. bell rang, preventing her from having to formulate an answer. Kids poured out of the gym in a wave, the sound of the band seeming to add to the general sense of chaos. In response to the flood of students, Nolan grasped her elbow, directing her away from the doors.
She had been conscious of the feel of his hand on her arm when he’d attempted to steady her outside Dave’s office. Today, the warmth of his fingers seemed to burn into her bare skin. She was aware of their strength and hardness. Sensitive to their callused roughness. Totally masculine and yet surprisingly pleasant.
Surprising. Like the length of his lashes and the sensual appeal of that five-o’clock shadow. Even his voice, despite the unfamiliarity of the accent, was intriguing.
Realizing that she was in danger of being overly intrigued, she pulled her elbow from his grip. “I have to go back upstairs and get some papers from my room.”
It was a lie. She had decided she wasn’t going to do any grading this weekend. She was working the gate at the game tonight, and she intended to sleep in tomorrow. The few essays she needed to finish for her fifth period class could be done during her free period Monday.
“So I take it you aren’t interested in being my guide to Friday night in Randolph.”
In the unfamiliar rush of emotions she’d forgotten his invitation. She didn’t intend to accept. Not until she’d had time and space to control her physical response to Jace Nolan.
“I don’t think so. Not when you seemed to be so tightly focused on my kids as the perpetrators.”
“I’m willing to have you change my mind.”
“I’m not willing to try. You’re wrong. Sooner or later you’ll figure that out without any help from me.”
As exit lines went, it wasn’t particularly powerful. Nolan didn’t argue, tilting his head as if acknowledging the possibility. The quirk she’d noticed before at the corner of his lips occurred again and was once more controlled.
“If you change your mind, you have my card.”
It was the perfect opening to respond with something rude. Deny that she’d ever change her mind. Defend her kids.
She did neither. The attraction was strong enough that she couldn’t be sure that if he kept on, he wouldn’t wear her down. She wasn’t going to give him a chance.
She’d learned early in her professional life not to make a threat unless she was willing to carry it out and that the fewer words she said in any situation, the fewer she would have to eat if things didn’t work out as she’d anticipated.
With Jace Nolan, she had a feeling that things not going as she’d anticipated was a distinct possibility.
Three
“Think we can go ahead and shut down?”
Shannon’s question caused Lindsey to look up at the scoreboard. It was nearing the end of the third quarter, which was the traditional closing time for the booth. Tonight on
ly a handful of tickets had been sold since the half. They’d already counted up the money in both cash boxes, keeping only a few dollars out to make change.
“I don’t see why not.” The score was lopsided enough that people were beginning to eddy out of the stadium toward the parking lot. That movement was unlikely to reverse.
“Me, neither. If Coach doesn’t like it, he can get somebody else next week.”
Although the faculty members who manned the booth and the gates each game were paid minimum wage, this was mostly volunteer labor. Those who normally worked were mostly hometown products who perhaps felt a stronger loyalty to the program as a result.
The aspirin Lindsey had taken and the cooler night air had banished her headache, but not her tiredness. And although she’d been raised to finish whatever task she started, closing a few minutes early wasn’t going to break the bank.
“How much?”
The question brought her head around. Jace Nolan was standing in front of her window, opened wallet in hand.
At her hesitation, Shannon replied, “We don’t charge after the third quarter.”
Jace looked at the scoreboard and then back to Shannon. “Consider it a contribution. I’d just as soon not wait.”
“I didn’t mean you had to wait. You can just go in.”
“You sure?”
“This isn’t that much of a game.”
Shannon was obviously in flirt mode. Despite her initial dislike of the detective, Lindsey had admitted he was an attractive man. Why should she be surprised her friend had reached that same conclusion?
“So what do you do when you close?”
For the first time since he’d questioned the price of admission, the focus of those dark eyes was on Lindsey. Since it was clear to which of them the question had been addressed, Shannon kept her mouth shut, leaving it up to her to answer.
“We turn in the money and go home.”
“Not interested in watching the coup de grâce?”
“Not tonight.”
Shannon’s sneaker-clad foot made contact with the side of Lindsey’s ankle. Although she, too, might have been attracted to Jace, Shannon was smart enough to have picked up on the obvious undercurrent between them. The kick had clearly said, “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”
An attractive man. A single woman on the wrong side of thirty stuck in a town this size. An invitation.
To Shannon—and to anyone else in Lindsey’s situation—that should spell “yes,” rather than such a definite “no.”
“You go on,” Shannon urged her before turning to smile at Jace. “I’ll take the money up to the press box.”
“If you aren’t interested in the game,” he said, again speaking directly to Lindsey, “maybe we could get something to eat. It’s been a long day, without any chance to grab dinner.”
For her, too. She’d spent the couple of hours between the end of school and her duties at the game lying down while she waited for the aspirin to work its magic. Because of her headache, she hadn’t eaten much lunch.
Apparently Shannon sensed the weakening of her resolve. “Friday night special at The Cove is hard to beat.”
“The Cove?” Jace’s gaze swung back to her.
“Out on the highway,” Shannon said helpfully. “One of our better restaurants. Who am I kidding? It’s the only decent food within thirty miles. And Lindsey’s favorite.”
“I appreciate the information. Ms. Sloan?”
Avoiding Shannon’s eyes, she met Jace’s instead. They were amused. And slightly challenging.
“I’m not dressed for The Cove.”
“On a ballgame night?” Shannon asked. “Honey, you’ll fit right in.” Her tone implied, And you damn well know it.
“You look fine to me,” Jace said.
The dialogue—the entire scenario—was so hokey, it was humiliating. And becoming more so by the second.
“Look—”
“Dinner,” Jace said. “No tour guiding involved.”
A reference to their conversation outside the gym this afternoon. At least Shannon had sense enough to keep her mouth shut, despite her almost palpable curiosity.
“Then…dinner.”
Why the hell had she agreed? Had she lost her mind? The man wanted to prove that one of her students was a criminal.
And if that were true? Wouldn’t she—and everyone else in this town—want to know?
“You sure you don’t mind closing up by yourself, Ms…?”
“Anderson. Shannon Anderson. I don’t mind. It’s a matter of walking up the stadium steps and handing in the cash at the press box.”
“You have a security escort?”
“Uh…Not in Randolph,” Shannon said with a laugh. “Everybody in the stadium knows what we’re doing. Believe me, nobody’s gonna try to make off with the money.”
“Then if you’re ready, Ms. Sloan.”
“Lindsey.” Again she wondered if she’d lost her mind.
“Lindsey.”
Sitcom dialogue. She looked at Shannon, daring her to laugh at the silliness of it. Surprisingly, her friend was looking exceptionally pleased with herself, but not amused.
“I’ll see you Monday,” Lindsey said to her.
“Y’all have fun.”
God, could this possibly get any worse? Lindsey stepped to the back of the booth and opened the door. She stood there a moment, trying to control her sense of unreality.
“Ready?” Jace had walked around to retrieve her.
“It doesn’t have to be The Cove. There are a couple of places that are nearer.”
“In a hurry to get home?”
She wasn’t. She was just a little out of her element.
Which had nothing to do with the restaurant and everything to do with the man she was going there with. The man half the town would see her with, which would inevitably create more gossip. And after the pep rally today…
“Compared to most places around here, The Cove is expensive. And likely to be crowded.”
“Then maybe if we left now…”
Jace’s suggestion was logical. To keep resisting would only make her appear more immature than she did already.
“My car’s here.”
“We can pick it up after we eat.”
On the way to where? she wondered. That had sounded as if dinner wasn’t the only thing he had in mind.
“Ready?” Once more Jace took her elbow, guiding her toward the parking lot. It was beginning to be a habit. One she discovered she was in no hurry to have him break.
“Jace. That’s an unusual name,” Lindsey said. “I don’t think I’ve ever heard it before.”
Since he’d made this same explanation dozens of times, Jace didn’t even have to think about what to say. “Probably because my family made it up.”
They were headed out of the restaurant, where the food had been as good as advertised. Not his preferred style of cuisine, but definitely eatable. Which was more than he could say about some of the meals he’d had down here.
“Made it up?”
“My great-grandfather was James Christian Nolan. He was called James. My grandfather was James Christian Nolan, the second. Jimmy. They called my dad Trey, because he was the third. When I came along, somebody got the bright idea of calling me J.C., which became Jacey when I was a toddler. At some point, that got shortened to Jace. By the time I started to school, I thought that was my name.”
“Sounds like a story someone around here might tell.”
“What does that mean?” he asked opening the car door for her. He waited as she slid into the passenger seat.
“The whole name thing. We’re big on family down here. It just…I don’t know. It sounded…Southern.”
“Yeah. Well, I don’t think my family would qualify as Southern by any stretch, but for what it’s worth, we’re big on family, too.” He returned her smile, but the ease they’d found over the meal—talking about everything from football to food—seemed to hav
e evaporated into the same sense of awkwardness that had marred the drive over from the stadium.
Jace closed the door and walked around the front of the car, trying to decide if it was worth doing what he’d planned. Probably better to play it by ear and see how she reacted.
He opened the driver’s side door and slid in behind the wheel. As he inserted the key into the ignition, Lindsey turned to look at him. He met her eyes, his questioning.
“Thank you for dinner.”
“My pleasure.” It had been, Jace acknowledged.
Once the initial awkwardness had dissipated, he’d found her easy to talk to. Of course, he’d avoided the subject he knew would set off all her defense mechanisms. That wasn’t something he could continue to do, not if he was going to get any of the information he believed Lindsey Sloan could provide. If she wanted to.
Decision made, he put the car into reverse. When he reached the highway, instead of turning back the way they’d come, he headed in the opposite direction. As if on cue, Lindsey offered the protest he’d been expecting.
“This isn’t the way to the stadium.”
She didn’t sound alarmed. It was more as if she thought that he, as a newcomer, might be confused about the location.
“I wanted to show you something.”
“Look—”
“Relax. Your virtue’s safe with me.”
He was no longer entirely sure of that. His original intent in asking to meet Ms. Sloan that day had been strictly business. He’d never expected to be attracted to a teacher.
Auburn hair should mean at least a few freckles. Instead, flawless ivory skin overlay a classically beautiful bone structure. The copper-colored eyes were open and direct.
So why the hell was she available on a Friday night? And, judging by her friend’s eagerness to push her to come with him tonight, most other nights as well?
“It’s been a long week,” she said, her voice no longer relaxed. “I enjoyed dinner, but I’d really appreciate it if you’d take me back to my car.”
“This won’t take five minutes. We’re almost there.”
He knew that as soon as he turned off the highway and onto the two-lane road, she’d recognize their destination. He could imagine her reaction.