Fire

by Lynnette Bonner

  “Right. All the best for your first day.”

  She nodded her thanks and left him to collect his emotions. But some of the excitement had just been sapped from her. That poor man. And these poor kids. He seemed nice enough, she thought, as she wove her way through the crowded hallway, twisting this way and that between kids who were in various states of animation. Some seemed oblivious to what had happened over the summer and chattered animatedly, thrilled that school was starting up. Others could barely seem to find the energy to sling their backpacks into their lockers, and she saw a couple of kids consoling each other, tears glistening on their cheeks.

  The knife of a memory threatened to bring on a headache, but she pushed the thoughts away. Not today. She didn’t have the emotional energy to deal with thoughts of Kingston’s death right now.

  Lord, I need Your strength. Help me to push past the pain and find the hurting and the broken. Help me to be Love in their lives. Let them see You in me. Let them find hope in You. She didn’t have time for more of a prayer because she was at her classroom and several students were already lounging in the desks she’d arranged to her liking the evening before. The drain of what she’d just learned from Simon Hall, combined with the reminder of just how late she’d been here, made her want to yawn. She resisted, and offered the students a friendly smile instead. At her desk, she opened up her PowerPoint and tossed up another quick prayer that all her technology would work this morning.

  The first bell rang and more students sauntered through the door. Two boys came in, took one look at her, and then set to slapping each other on the back and fist bumping as they spoke low behind their hands and scanned her up and down.

  To hide her embarrassment, she turned and picked up the remote for her classroom’s projector and focused on powering it on. She got so tired of people taking one look at her and categorizing her as nothing more than a nice object to ogle. Still, maybe it was her fault for dressing up so much on the first day. And she probably should have pinned her long wavy hair into a bun. She’d take care of that during the break between the classes.

  Second bell rang and the classroom settled into an expectant quiet. She’d bet that wouldn’t last much past the first couple of days.

  She folded her hands. “Good morning class and welcome to Senior English. My name is Miss Radell, and I look forward—”

  A male student bustled through the door, baseball cap on backwards and books askew in his arms. He was looking down at a paper on his top book as he came through the door, but glanced up as he entered. “I’m sorry. I’m new and—”

  Kyra’s jaw dropped. She couldn’t help herself. Because the wide-eyed boy staring back at her was Case, the man who’d been at the salon on Saturday. One ankle wobbled as she stepped behind her desk and pretended to straighten some papers. She racked her brain.

  He was a student? She would have sworn he was at least her age or older last Saturday.

  She pushed back a wash of lightheadedness. This could get her fired before she even got started!

  Had she flirted too openly? Only a little.

  Had she said anything untoward? Not that she could recall.

  Thank God she’d refused his request for a date! What a mess that would have been!

  The silence was stretching, and she realized several in the classroom were eyeing her strangely. She leveled him with a look, and if her emotions were any measurement it was none too friendly. But just before she spoke she reminded herself he’d said he was new here. “Your name is?”

  “Uh, Case, ma’am.” If the paleness around his wide eyes was any indication, he was just as shocked to see her as she was to see him.

  But she wasn’t the one who had portrayed herself as an adult and hit on an older woman. She felt her eyebrows lift. “Case, do you have a last name?”

  “Sheridan.”

  Something stirred a bit of unease. Had that been the same name on his credit card? She’d been so flustered by his compliments and teasing there at the end that she didn’t remember even glancing at his last name on the card.

  “Well, Mr. Sheridan, since you are new, and I understand how navigating around an unfamiliar facility might make you late, just this once I’ll let it pass. In the future, please do your best to be on time?”

  He swallowed and nodded.

  She held her hand out to the last remaining empty desk—in the front row—then snatched it back when she noticed how it trembled. “Please, take your seat.”

  CHAPTER 4

  Case was one of the first students out of the classroom as soon as they were dismissed. Grinding his teeth, he stuffed his head inside his locker and scrunched his eyes shut.

  He forced himself to go over every detail of their first meeting. Had he said anything to her about being a cop? No, he didn’t think so. They’d mostly talked about her work.

  Still, Captain Danielson was going to kill him. The excuse of being a nineteen-year-old senior was always his cover for his fairly heavy stubble. But how did one cover for “pretending” to be an adult? He needed to think of a way to salvage this situation and he needed to do it quickly before she started asking questions about him. They could potentially read her in, but that was dangerous, both for her and for their op. And what did they know about her anyhow? They’d have to do a full background workup on her. Had she been in the area long enough to be the one supplying drugs to the kids? Everett wasn’t so far away that it was totally out of the question, even if it was implausible.

  He slapped his locker shut and slammed his palm against it. What were the odds that of all the places in the world she got a job here and that he’d happened to walk into her sister’s salon last Saturday?

  He pinched the bridge of his nose as he fell in with the stream of kids moving down the hallway.

  As if seeing her in English class wasn’t enough, she was also his advanced PE teacher. She’d changed her hair by then—had it pulled back into a severe ponytail that she probably hoped disguised her looks but didn’t. As she introduced the class and talked about tennis, the first sport they’d be covering, the two guys in front of him kept whispering to each other and making lewd gestures. He wanted to thump their heads together.

  Instead, he saw it for the opportunity it was and muttered just loud enough for them to hear but maybe think he was talking to himself, “I could score me some o’ that.” He ground his teeth and reminded himself this was all just part of his job.

  The boys thumped each other’s shoulders, laughing like he’d just told the best joke of the year. One of them spoke over his shoulder. “Get in line, bro.”

  They all laughed.

  And Case was satisfied. He’d back off now for a bit. Let them wonder about him for a few days before he laid his cover story on them. Show a little attitude in classes, maybe sleep a little too.

  Some agents went under and pressured any kid they could to get them drugs so they could make some arrests and make the op look good. But one thing he appreciated about his boss was his emphasis that they never pressure any of the kids to get them drugs. Case agreed with that philosophy one hundred percent. If a kid was already dealing, that was one thing, but he never wanted one of his investigations to corrupt a kid who was just trying to impress and befriend him.

  Miss Radell paired them off into teams for doubles and disbursed them to the outdoor courts behind the gym.

  Case ended up paired with a bouncy, talkative, gum-chewing blonde that he might have thought was cute back in high school. She batted her eyelashes invitingly, giving him a once-over. But he only nodded a greeting.

  There were several strict rules undercover. And relationships fell under those rules. Undercover or not, it was still a crime to seduce an underage kid, so relationships were off the books. Team sports were also prohibited to officers, so while athleticism came naturally to him, he generally toned down his natural abilities a lot to keep from being prodded to join a team. Especially in small schools like this where every body on the court ofte
n counted.

  The team across from him served, and his partner Chloe returned the ball. He could tell by the way she moved that she was athletic and likely part of the popular crowd. Assessing, always assessing. Was it the popular kids in this school doing the drugs? Sometimes it was and sometimes, surprisingly, that crowd spurned the drugs and it was the outcasts who turned to them. Most of the time it was a mixture from each segment of the school. But Chloe was likely to be a friend to make. The trick would be doing that and keeping it purely platonic.

  The ball was headed his way and he tripped over his feet, careening to the cement and missing the ball altogher.

  “Wow.” Chloe chomped her gum and grinned at him. “For being such a McDreamy you sure can’t play tennis.”

  He pushed himself up to a sitting position. “Sorry you got stuck with me.”

  She giggled. “Don’t sweat it. I’m Chloe Schumacher, by the way.”

  “Yeah, I caught your name.” He winked at her. Hopefully it came across as friendly and not too flirtatious. “I’m Case—”

  “Case, are you okay?” Miss Radell was suddenly by his side and stretching down a hand to help him up.

  “Sheridan,” he finished saying to Chloe. And since a teenage guy would likely not appreciate looking like he needed help from a female teacher, he spurned her hand and hopped to his feet. “It’s all good, Miss Radell. Thanks for asking.”

  She was studying him quizzically with those delicate brows of hers all scrunched together, which returned his dilemma over what to do about her to the front of his mind. She hadn’t said anything to him—at least not yet—and it wasn’t likely she would bring up their past meeting to any of her colleagues because then there would have to be an investigation and he doubted she’d want that.

  So he probably had a little bit of time. For now, he would just let things slide and see what happened. At least until he had time to talk to Mick. And, oh boy, Mick was going to let him have it but good about this blunder.

  The other kids on their court were all looking at them now.

  Kyra gave her head a little shake, then reached out a hand. “Let me see your racket for a minute.”

  He handed it over and she proceeded to show him how to hold it, and swing it, and slide his feet across the court so he wouldn’t trip again.

  Case resisted a grunt of frustration. Sometimes this job really wasn’t fair. Having to look like a klutz in front of this beautiful woman was going to try him sorely.

  With a smile, she handed him back his racket and turned her attention to another student, and Case resumed his position on the court. He made the next two swings count. He couldn’t help himself.

  But Kyra Radell wasn’t paying a bit of attention.

  When Case got home from the school, Captain Danielson was waiting for him—Mick, Case reminded himself. The man had insisted on the informality while they were under together. The living room of the house the department had rented for them was small, and currently cluttered with papers and file folders. Mick’s laptop was on the coffee table before him, and a plate of cake and cup of coffee sat to one side.

  The captain grinned. “Welcome home, son. How was your day? Need me to make you a snack?”

  Case chuckled but didn’t respond in kind. After moving a map of the island so he could dump his backpack onto the recliner, he turned to face his boss. “We may have a problem.”

  Captain Danielson immediately dropped his act. “Already? What is it?”

  “Believe it or not, one of my teachers is a woman who was working at the nail salon I went to on Saturday.”

  Mick cursed. “Seriously? That can’t be a coincidence can it? You think she knows something?”

  Case shook his head. “I didn’t even know about this op till Monday morning. And she did tell me on Saturday that she’d just gotten a new job as a teacher, she just didn’t say where.”

  Mick pegged him with a look. “Don’t tell me you hit on her!”

  Case rubbed the back of his neck. “Okay. I won’t.”

  The captain cursed again and kicked out at a chair.

  Case tried for a soothing tone. “I’m pretty sure it’s only a crazy coincidence, but we’d better do a full workup on her, anyhow.”

  “Most of that’s already done. What’s her name?” Mick strode to the map Case had tossed over some stacks of papers and moved it to one side.

  “Radell. Kyra Radell.”

  The captain fingered through some folders and produced a thin one. “Here it is. This is all we could find on her.”

  Case flipped open the folder, for some reason feeling a little like he was snooping in an area he didn’t belong. But this was for an op. Born in Kirkland, an Eastside suburb of Seattle, she’d been raised right here in Washington. Her parents still lived in Kirkland. Only one sister—she’d mentioned her when he’d been at the salon the other day. But she’d had a brother who’d died back in 2010.

  He lowered the folder and pondered… Kyra was about his age, a little younger. That would put her around her freshman year in high school when her brother died. “Did we learn how her brother died?”

  “Death report is in there somewhere. I think it was suicide.”

  Case’s heart sank as he flipped through the pages. Sure enough. Her brother had been two years older than her and had killed himself by hanging. Processing that gave him the urge to track her down and tell her how sorry he was for her loss.

  He shook the thought away and turned back to his perusal of her file. A long list of acting credits from several theaters during her high school years… He pondered… When she was younger, had her dream been to become an actress? What had made her want to teach? The acting had stopped abruptly mid-2010. That might answer those questions.

  She’d graduated from Northwest University in Kirkland two years previous with a double major in theater arts and education. Since then she’d been working as a substitute teacher throughout Snohomish County and working at her sister’s salon on the weekends, just as she’d told him. She had only two traffic tickets ever. And no criminal history of any kind.

  Case closed the folder and tossed it on top of the stack. “None of this raises any red flags. It all matches everything she’s told me. Today was her first day at the school, so the likelihood that she’s our perp is slim to none. But she recognized me in class today. And I’m afraid she might start asking questions. So…what do we do about that?” He braced for whatever blast of ire Mick was about to lay on him.

  But Mick only blew out a breath and scrubbed his hands over his face. “For now, we sit on it. Keep an eye on her. If you have to read her in, you do it, but I’d like to put it off for as long as possible if we can.”

  Case nodded, thankful for the confirmation of his own earlier conclusions. “Yes, sir.”

  “Meantime…” Mick gestured to the remaining folders in the stack. “Grab a folder and get to work.”

  Inwardly, Case groaned. “First, where’s the rest of that cake?”

  They were in for a long night.

  Alone at her desk in her classroom, Kyra fiddled with a pencil and frowned at the data on her computer screen.

  They were a few days into the school year now and she still hadn’t decided what she ought to do about Case Sheridan.

  The truth was, she’d really rather just put her head in the sand and pretend that the kid had never come to Lainey’s salon and hit on her, but the more she’d watched him over the past few days, the more red flags had been raised.

  The kid was putting on an act of some kind.

  Case had been late to PE today, and he’d fallen asleep in English class yesterday. And she’d heard that he’d gotten detention from Principal Vaughan yesterday for disrespect and backtalk. Yet, when she’d called on him today to participate in the discussion about Beowulf, his answers had been insightful and precise.

  She’d really only stayed late at the school to grade some pop quizzes she’d handed out today, but hadn’t been able to get her m
ind off the disparity in the kid’s personality. So she’d decided to pull up his school records. And those were doing nothing to ease her concerns. The boy had been to more schools than most military brats. And at each and every one he’d had discipline problems. So how was it that he’d come across as such a responsible adult when she’d interacted with him at the salon the other day?

  She took her eyes from the computer screen to rub at the headache that she now realized had been pulsing behind her browbone for quite some time. She blinked at the darkness of her classroom. No wonder she had a headache. She’d been staring at the glow of her screen in a completely dark room for who knew how long.

  She grabbed the bottle of water from her desk and the bottle of Tylenol from her drawer. After tossing down two pills, she angled her computer screen toward the light switch she knew was over by the door to illuminate her way through the desks.

  As she slowly maneuvered through the room, she let her thoughts return to the problem of Case Sheridan. In all likelihood, she was just upset with herself for being taken in by a kid the way she had, but she never wanted another family to suffer like her family had suffered after the way they’d lost Kingston. She owed it both to herself and to Case to look into his odd behavior more fully.

  She was just reaching for the switch when a loud crash sounded from somewhere in the school. She froze and peered through the wired glass inset in her door. The only room she could see was Simon’s across the hall.

  His door was solid steel like her own, with only a small rectangle of wired glass at the top.

  Was that a flash of light in his room?

  She smiled. He’d probably done the same thing as her. Stayed late, realized it just now and headed for his light switch, only to knock something over.

  Score one for not being klutzy.

  She laughed and flipped on her classroom lights—maybe some of the illumination would seep into his room and allow him to find his own door and switch. Opening her door, she called out, “Simon, is that you? I only just realized myself how late it is.”