by Gayle Wilson
“Watch your back.”
“What does that mean?”
“Until we figure this all out, just be aware at all times that someone thinks you know something that’s dangerous to their well-being.”
She nodded as if he could see her. And then the connection was broken. She held the phone to her ear for a few seconds as Jace’s warning reverberated in her mind.
Someone thinks you know something that’s dangerous.
And if she did, she had no idea what that might be.
Although the video game he was playing usually calmed him—primarily because it allowed him to commit acts he couldn’t get away with in reality—its virtual violence wasn’t working today. Right now he needed to actually feel flesh split and bones crack and to know he’d caused that. This wouldn’t suffice. Not for the level of his fury.
Shit-for-brains was going to get them all caught. And he
couldn’t afford that. He couldn’t afford to lose everything he’d worked for because of some puking, totally juvenile garbage.
He knew now that he should never have allowed himself to become vulnerable to someone else’s stupidity. In the beginning this had all seemed like a game. Just like the one playing out on the screen in front of him. With what had happened last night, however…
Why the hell had that fucked-up asshole ever thought he could get away with something like that? They’d issued their warning, taking as much care with it as they had with the churches.
That…that had been something else. Impromptu. Careless. A petty act of jealousy that was going to bring the whole thing down around their ears. Just when it had been going so well.
He threw down the controller, walking around the room as he tried to think how to minimize the damage. It was too late to back away. Other targets were already in play, and once the campaign started, it tended to take on a life of its own.
That had been the beauty of the whole Suicide Club scheme. The fact that all they had to do was set things in motion and then let the forces they’d unleashed on the losers take over. There would be no one to blame. No one for the authorities to come after. Not until that idiot had pulled that boneheaded stunt at the stadium.
As long as he’d been in control, things had worked exactly as planned. And that was the key, of course. Being in control. Making the decisions. Manipulating everyone. What he needed to ensure would happen from here on out.
If he couldn’t…If he couldn’t, then he knew he’d have to take control of that, too.
Lindsey pushed the bell again, before she glanced at her watch. Twenty after eleven. Surely Shannon was up by now.
Of course, it was entirely possible she’d missed her. After what Dave had said about trying to get in touch with her last night, Lindsey had known she had to get over to her parents’ house before they heard about the fire.
Although she’d downplayed the seriousness of what had happened and hadn’t even mentioned the locked door, her mother had still been upset. Apparently neither of them had heard about the snake yet, so at least she hadn’t had to deal with explanations about that.
She was about to try calling Shannon on her cell when the door opened. It was obvious by the nightshirt she was wearing and her bare feet that Shannon hadn’t been up.
“Sorry,” Lindsey said. “I thought you’d be awake by now.”
“What time is it?” Shannon yawned, covering her mouth with her palm.
“Nearly eleven-thirty. You okay?”
“A.m. or p.m.?” Shannon stepped back to allow her to enter.
“A.m. You knew that.”
“Yeah, even I’m not that far gone. You mad?”
“About what?”
“That I ditched the game last night.”
“You can buy my forgiveness with a cup of coffee. All my folks had was decaf.”
“You’ve already been over there?” Shannon threw the question over her shoulder as she led the way to the kitchen.
“Duty visit.”
“Aren’t they all?”
“So what happened to you last night?”
“I came home, had a couple of drinks, took some Klonopin, and went to bed.”
“Not the smartest combination,” Lindsey warned, easing up onto one of the tall stools on the opposite of the breakfast bar from where Shannon was measuring coffee into a filter.
“It was last night.”
“Seriously, that’s dangerous and you know it.”
“Okay. No need to stage an intervention. I’ll be good. So did you go?”
“To the game? Somebody had to sell tickets.”
“You’re a better woman than I am.”
“You have no idea. Almost before I got out of the car, the cheerleaders met me, wanting me to ask Dave to okay a moment of silence for Andrea. They’d bought candles and everything. They wanted me to read a poem, but I told them I couldn’t do that.”
“Oh, God.” Shannon’s voice was rich with genuine sympathy. “I told you mine was the smarter choice. What did Dave say?”
“What could he say?”
Shannon inserted the basket into the coffeemaker before she turned to ask, “Was it awful?”
“I don’t know. I didn’t see it. I stayed in the booth.”
“Wise move.”
“Not really. Somebody piled trash in front of the door and set it on fire.”
Shannon had been in the act of taking mugs out of one of the upper cabinets. As Lindsey’s words penetrated, she turned, her mouth open. “Are you kidding me?”
Lindsey shook her head. Although she’d discussed the incident with her parents, she’d made it sound as if it had all been an accident. Putting into words the reality that someone had deliberately endangered her life had more of an emotional impact than she would have believed.
“Who would do something like that?”
“Maybe whoever put the snake in my house.”
“Okay, that’s enough of this shit. You call the police?”
“Jace was at the game. He’s the one who put out the fire.”
“So what did Sir Galahad say about the fire?”
“Don’t call him that. He got burned in the process and ended up in the emergency room. If he’d waited for the fire department to arrive…” She shrugged.
“That’s what the county pays him to do, Linds. Save lives. It’s his job.”
“Yeah, well, in that case, he earned his pay.”
“You don’t really believe somebody was trying to kill you.”
“They locked the door, so yeah, I think maybe they might have been.”
Her friend opened her mouth again and then closed it as she absorbed the information. “Shit,” she said finally.
“I swear I’m not paranoid, but if you put this together with the other…”
“Why? Why would anybody want to hurt you?”
“Jace says they think I know something.”
“About what?”
“The church fires. Andrea. I don’t know.”
“Do you?”
“Not that I’m aware of. Jace says I may have been the last person Andrea talked to, so maybe…”
“You said she didn’t talk.”
“They don’t know that.”
“They who? Who does your detective think ‘they’ are?”
“He’s not my detective. And that’s what he’s trying to find out—who they are.”
“Well, you know, he needs to get a freaking move on. You want to stay here? You know you’re welcome.”
It was tempting. As Jace’s offer had been. “He feels guilty because he got me into this.”
“Jace? He didn’t have anything to do with Andrea coming to see you.”
“No, but he targeted me as a source of information because he’s convinced my kids were involved with the arson.”
“Maybe he’s right.”
“I didn’t think so, but…You said you suspected someone from the beginning.”
“I didn’t say that.”
“Great and wise counselor that I am.”
“You’re a very good counselor.”
“So good that one of my students went home and cut her wrists, and I didn’t have a clue she was going to do it.”
“Nobody did, including her mother. How could you have?”
Without answering, Shannon turned, finally taking down the mugs and setting them on the counter beside the coffeemaker.
“How could you possibly have known, Shannon?” Lindsey repeated. “You’re being ridiculous.”
“Do you know what I did all last week? I made out remediation schedules for all the turds who’ve sat on their asses for twelve years, doing no homework, ditching school whenever the mood struck them, acting like idiots in the classroom, and who now can’t pass the grad exam. Those are the kids who got my attention last week.”
“That’s your job.”
“So is knowing what’s going on in the heads of the ones who need help the most. Like Andrea.”
“None of us knew Andrea was vulnerable. We couldn’t have. We weren’t told.”
“If I’d done my job, I might have found out. I could have called her in to talk about how she was doing. I might have established some kind of relationship with her besides asking which science course she wanted to take this year.”
“She was seeing a therapist. You’re a high school counselor. One with too far many kids to be responsible for—”
“Responsible. Bottom line. I was responsible for Andrea.”
“No more than the rest of us. I was her special ed teacher. I filed an individual education plan for her every year. Met with her mom. Feel guilty if you want to, but don’t think you have sole ownership of that.”
“Oh, you’re right. There’s plenty of guilt to go around.”
“And if we wallow in it long enough, we’ll let the next one slip through the cracks.”
“Not me,” Shannon said.
“Meaning?”
“I can’t do this anymore. It’s not what I signed on for.”
“None of us signed on for watching kids commit suicide.”
“I don’t mean that. It’s all the other crap they’re giving us to do. Testing, schedules, remediation plans. I swear I haven’t had time to sit down and talk to a kid this year.”
“It’s always this way at the first of school.”
“And it used to get better. Now it doesn’t. We run from one test to the next. From one set of reports to another. I got into this because I wanted to work with kids. All I am now is a paper pusher.”
“So what are you going to do that’s better?”
“Wait tables. Be a greeter at the Wal-Mart. Anything but what I am doing. Pretending to help kids.”
“Give it a few days. Give yourself a few days. You’ll feel differently—”
“After the funeral?”
The word lay between them. In the aftermath of personal threat, Lindsey had almost forgotten the next emotional battle.
“That’s when the kids will need you more than ever.”
“Maybe the county will send their grief squad back out.”
“If they do, you need to talk to my classes. They didn’t respond too well to the others.”
“Yeah? What’d they say?” Shannon asked with a laugh.
No matter its cause, Lindsey welcomed the break in the tension. If she could laugh at the stupidity of the county, Shannon would probably crawl out of the dark hole she was in.
“That they treated them like babies. Talked down to them.”
“Oh, I’ll bet they did. Sanctimonious bastards.”
“Which is why you can’t quit. Because you aren’t.”
“Sanctimonious or a bastard?”
“Neither.”
“I can’t even imagine how her mom is dealing.”
“I don’t want to try.”
“I thought about calling her.”
“Me, too.”
Shannon blew out a breath. “You think we ought to go over?”
Lindsey couldn’t think of anything she wanted to do less, but Shannon was probably right. “Do you?”
“God knows I don’t want to.”
“If we do, you can’t start that about feeling responsible. She doesn’t need to hear that, and you don’t need to say it.”
“Are you trying to tell me how to act, Linds?”
“Yes.”
“When’s the visitation?”
“If Walt’s right, Monday night.”
“Why don’t we do that instead?”
“Chicken.”
“Just not a glutton for that much punishment.”
“You think the visitation will be easier?”
“It will be public. People tend to be more restrained. And we can be in and out in a matter of minutes.”
It was more tempting than a private visit. Besides, Jace had said he was going to see Mrs. Moore at some time today. Despite having spent the night in his bed—literally if not figuratively—she wasn’t looking forward to seeing him again so soon. Maybe because she’d spent the night in his bed.
“I’m good with that,” Lindsey said.
“I’m not up to the other. You want something to eat?”
“I ate at my mom’s.”
“Pancakes? You could have brought me some.”
That was a Saturday morning tradition at her house. Pancakes with strawberries and whipped cream.
“If Mom had known I was coming over, she’d have sent them.”
“You didn’t tell her?”
“I didn’t know. I just dropped by to check on you.”
“I’m fine. You know me. I just needed to vent. You always happen to be around when I do.”
“That’s what friends are for.”
“Yeah, but you get more than your share.” Shannon took two slices of bread out of the package and stuck them in the toaster. “I appreciate your checking on me. I’ll have to thank Lieutenant Nolan for rescuing you the next time I see him.”
“Do that. He wouldn’t listen to me express my gratitude.”
“A saint as well as a superhero.”
“In the emergency room last night—” Lindsey stopped, the image of Jace’s bare chest too fresh.
“What?”
“He’s been shot. A couple of times in the chest. I’m no expert, but it didn’t look as if it had been all that long ago.”
“In the chest?”
“The resident made some crack about him being lucky.”
“Sounds like it. He get lucky last night?”
For a second or two, Lindsey didn’t know what Shannon was asking. When she figured it out, she could feel the telltale color invade her cheeks, despite the fact that nothing had happened between them. “I barely know the guy.”
“Not a hindrance. You need to sneak on over into this century, Linds.”
“I’m in this century. I just prefer a little intellectual intimacy before the physical intimacy.”
“Sounds like a crock to me.”
The toast popped up, saving Lindsey from having to admit that it had sounded like a crock to her as well. She watched as Shannon spread both butter and jam over the bread, depositing each one onto a china plate as she finished with it. She brought the toast and her coffee over to the side of the bar where Lindsey was sitting and took the other stool.
“He likes you,” she said, glancing sideways at Lindsey as she took a bite.
“He thinks I know something that could help him. If I did, at this point, believe me, I’d tell him.”
Shannon shrugged, turning her attention back to breakfast. Lindsey let the silence build, trying to think of some way to change the subject. Only then did she remember she hadn’t told her friend about the profile of Andrea Jace had discovered.
&nbs
p; “The boy you suspect in the program? Does he have any computer expertise?”
“I never said I suspected somebody.”
“Okay, the boy you think is capable of doing something like the church fires? Can he manipulate images? Put up a fake profile of somebody?”
“You mean there’s somebody in your program who can’t do that?” Shannon licked jam off her fingers, eyes challenging.
“You’re the one who says you know what they’re capable of.”
“I can Photoshop with the best of them, and I don’t claim any kind of expertise. It ain’t that hard, Linds.”
“So the one you were thinking of the other day?” Lindsey repeated patiently. “He could do what I’m asking about?”
“Yeah. So what?”
“Somebody put up a fake profile of Andrea on one of those sites the kids all use.”
“Who told you that?”
“I saw it. Jace showed it to me.”
“So how did he know it was fake?”
“I told him.”
“And just how did you know that, Miss Techno-wizard?”
“Because it was nothing like Andrea. It was very…sexually explicit. About the things she was doing with guys at school.”
“That doesn’t make it fake. Maybe she was doing those things with the guys at school. I keep telling you. They aren’t the little darlings they’d have you believe.”
“Andrea wouldn’t have done the things that were described on the site. Besides, the writing wasn’t hers. Give me credit for knowing my kids’ writing styles if nothing else.”
“And yet the experts argue over whether Shakespeare wrote some sonnet or other. Are you sure you could tell she wrote something from the kind of crap that’s posted on those sites?”
“In this case, I could,” Lindsey said stubbornly.
“Oh, please. Just because you don’t want to think Andrea could be involved in that kind of stuff, especially now—”
“You didn’t read it.”
“And I don’t want to. Not if it’s upset you this much.”
“It wasn’t her.”
“Okay. I believe you.” Shannon took another bite of toast.
She didn’t, but Lindsey couldn’t see the point of arguing about it. “You still won’t tell me who it is?”
“So you can tell Jace? I don’t think so. Not because you think Andrea Moore is somehow different from ninety percent of the kids. Don’t bestow sainthood on her because she’s dead.”