скачать книгу бесплатно
Make that urge a compulsion…suppressed. Barely. This time.
Noah stretched his lips into a smile that was as good as a spit. “Tread lightly, Burns. You’re on my territory, and my students’ best interests will be served.”
“This is our school principal.” Hank plunked a hand onto Noah’s shoulder.
Burns barked a laugh. “Nurse-maiding the kiddies, are we?” He turned his attention toward the sheriff. “Make no mistake. We are in charge. We’ll collect whatever information your people have gathered and take the investigation from here. You’ll be informed whenever we need information from you on a local matter, but this case reaches beyond Cottonwood Grove.”
The sheriff’s gaze met Noah’s. He sent Hank a miniscule shrug.
“I can take your team to the backpack,” the sheriff said to Burns.
“No need. The ERTs are already examining the bag and the site. We recognize crime scene tape when we see it.”
“Hooray for the good guys.” Noah looked around the gym. Other agents were joining interview groups or consulting with the city officers. Some even deigned to smile and joke with the local yokels. At least the rest of this federal team didn’t have their ties yanked too tight. Most of them weren’t even wearing one. Or a suit, either. He returned his gaze to Burns. “I wonder if you’re the one.”
The agent drew himself up to his full height, which was a good couple of inches shorter than Noah. “The one what?”
“Miss Thompson mentioned an agent that was involved in the original investigation.”
“Would that be Laney Thompson, the victim’s sister? Where is she? She’s got questions to answer.”
“She and her daughter are backstage. Come with me.” If this guy got out of line with Laney, he’d stop curbing his impulses, even if the swing got him jail time.
“That was very good, sweetie,” Laney told her daughter, who gazed up proudly from the book she was reading aloud.
“Laney Thompson, I need to talk to you!”
The hairs at the base of her neck stood on end as if someone had scraped fingernails across the chalkboard of her mind. Those growled tones were from a long-ago nightmare. She looked up to see Noah, with Special Agent Burns in tow, bearing down on her.
The FBI agent stopped in front of their chairs. “Supervisory Special Agent Justin Burns. I’m told you remember me.” He spoke as if her recollection of him was a matter of pride.
It had taken her a long time to overcome the nightmares featuring the agent’s roughshod interrogation of her as a traumatized child. Burns would have to trample her dead body to do the same thing to Briana.
Laney rose and stared the agent in his pug nose. “What would you like to know? But leave my daughter out of it. This is the first she’s heard about what happened back then, and she wasn’t anywhere near Gracie’s schoolbag.”
Burns looked from Briana back to her. “All grown up and with a kid of your own. We’ll see where the investigation takes us. Is there somewhere we can visit in private?” The agent pointed a look toward Noah, who stood with his arms away from his body, legs slightly apart, as if he’d as soon tackle Burns as look at him.
They glared at one another like familiar enemies. Burns must have worked fast to get on Noah’s bad side so quickly. Then again, the agent had that gift.
“You can use my office,” Noah said. “I’ll escort you.”
“No need.” Burns waved him off. “I’m sure Laney knows where it is.”
“Ms. Thompson.” Laney spoke in unison with Noah. They shared a look, and sparkly fizz shot through her middle at the smile in his eyes. What was the matter with her? Now was so not the time for this hopeless attraction to her boss.
Burns’s jaw firmed. “Very well, Ms. Thompson. Lead the way. And you,” he turned and jabbed a finger toward Noah, “stay out of this investigation.”
Laney drew herself up. “Stay out of this investigation? If your people find any lead worth following it will likely be because of this man’s quick thinking. He secured the scene, alerted the school, organized the interviews—”
“You did what?” Burns put himself in Noah’s personal space. “I might have known you couldn’t keep your nose out of where it doesn’t belong. I told the sheriff not to make a move until we arrived.”
“How can you be so obtuse?” Laney burst out. “We need a vicious murderer apprehended, and you instruct your fellow law officer not to employ his intellect, training or experience?” Both men were staring at her now. She was babbling in English-nerdese, but she was on a roll. “If Sheriff Lindoll had listened to you instead of Noah, you’d be hours behind on an investigation that is now well in hand. Accolades are more in order than scorn. And,” she sniffed, “if you need a dictionary to look up any of my verbiage, this school is gifted with an abundance of those.”
“Mommy?” A tap on her side brought her attention to her daughter, who stood clutching her book. “He can use a dictionary from my classroom.”
Silence blanketed the moment, except for the background noise of voices from the gymnasium. A snort turned everyone’s heads. Officer Carlson stood red-faced and grinning from his post behind the folding chairs. A suppressed chuckle came from Noah, whose lips had disappeared between his teeth.
Laney tugged a lock of her daughter’s hair. “Thank you, sweetie. You’re a thoughtful little girl.” Her heart was galloping like a colt let out of the gate. She’d just thoroughly antagonized the man who held the authority in a life or death investigation involving her family. Great going, girl. She tried, but an apology wouldn’t form in her mouth. The man was a grade-A blockhead, but they were stuck with him.
Burns’s subzero gaze surveyed her as if she was a speck of lint. “If your sophomoric tantrum is quite finished, you and I have matters to discuss. And I do want to speak to the child, as well.”
“My daughter’s name is Briana.” She turned her focus on her little girl. “Briana, this is Agent Burns of the Federal Bureau of Investigation. Your mommy set a very bad example. We need to respect his authority and position.”
Briana smiled and held out her hand to the agent. “Pleased to meet you, Agent Burns.”
The agent stared at the hand as if he’d been offered a porcupine. Then he slowly took the little member in his. “Good meeting you, too, Briana.” The words came out a bit gruff, but his expression softened.
Noah dipped his head, as if chastened. “I was going to offer to be present during the interview, but I think you can take care of yourself.” He looked at his watch. “I need to arrange for parents and bus drivers to be aware of late school dismissal.” With a small wave, he left the stage in one direction, while Laney motioned Burns to follow her in the other.
On the way to Noah’s office, questions bombarded her mind. What had Burns meant by his statement that he “might have known” Noah couldn’t stay out of the investigation? Had the agent and the principal met before? How? When? And why did the local police chief respect Noah’s advice about the investigation? Who was Noah Ryder, really? The internal gossip den contained sketchy knowledge about the man’s background. He started his teaching career about five years ago in a different school system, then got his principal’s license and took over in Cottonwood Grove two years ago. What had he done before that?
When they arrived at the reception area, Burns dismissed Officer Carlson, and then swept past Miss Aggie without a glance as he took over the lead into the principal’s inner sanctum. He made himself at home in Noah’s big desk chair, pulled a small tape recorder from his pocket and placed it on the edge of the desk. Laney and Briana occupied the guest chairs.
It took only a few minutes for Laney to divulge the story about finding the school bag on the playground, though she kept the panic attack to herself. Burns was a cold, hard facts kind of guy, and she didn’t need to expose her shattered emotions.
Burns spent a few minutes grilling her, then he turned his attention to Briana. “Young lady, have you noticed anyone watching you these past few days or weeks? A stranger? Or someone who shouldn’t be paying you that much attention? Think very hard now. This is important.”
Briana’s brows scrunched together, and she kicked her feet back and forth. Then she shook her head, pigtails flapping.
The agent leaned across the desk. “You’re sure. No one when you’re outside? Or with friends? Or with your mother somewhere? At the store, perhaps?”
“No one,” Briana answered in a small voice.
“How about the playground where the bag was found? Someone watching—”
“Agent Burns,” Laney interrupted, “my daughter has already said no.”
“Yes!” her daughter burst out.
They both gaped at her.
Briana bounced in her seat. “There was a man in a suit.” She screwed up her mouth. “I remember ’cuz I noticed him when my friend Alicia lost her pinky ring under the slide.”
“A man in a suit.” Burns all but sprawled across the desk. “He was watching you?”
“No, not me.”
“Bree,” Laney said, “why didn’t you report this? We’re not supposed to let strangers hang around the playground. Haven’t you learned anything from the lessons Mr. Ryder’s put on about stranger awareness?” Her tone had gone shrill before she finished the sentence.
Her daughter’s lower lip quivered. “But Mommy, he didn’t have mean eyes. More like sad. And he went away as soon as the bell rang and we had to go inside.”
“What did the man look like?” The agent’s palm slapped the desktop.
Laney fried him with a glare. “You are not interrogating a criminal.”
“All right. Okay.” He lifted his hands and settled back in his chair. “Briana,” he gritted between a wooden smile, “would you kindly describe this person to me?”
The little girl shrugged. “He had a suit on, but not the same color as yours. His hair was dark, except for white spots here.” She motioned toward her temples. “And the metal pole on the fence came to here on him.” She sawed her hand back and forth across her upper abdomen.
“Very good, honey.” Laney squeezed her daughter’s arm, then looked at Burns. “The stabilizing pole is about halfway up the fence. That would make our man less than average height—five foot eight or so.”
The man grunted. “Good description, young lady. Now would you mind going with one of my agents while I talk to your mom for a little while?”
Laney shook her head. “I won’t send her with someone she doesn’t know. I want my friend Ellen to be with them.”
Burns hissed out a breath. “Make it happen, but my guy will be in charge. Unless you think one of my agents is the perp.” His sarcasm was sharp enough to scrape paint.
He retrieved a radio from his belt while Laney went to the office door and peered out. The outer area teemed with people, and Miss Aggie was busy at a swamped desk. Some of those hanging around were bus drivers. Laney glanced at the wall clock. School was overdue to be dismissed. On the other side of the area, a tall, dark-haired man waved to her, flashing a big smile. It was Pierce Mayfield, driver of the small city bus that transported several in-town children to and from school. Laney answered with a flutter of the fingers.
Pierce had been flirting with her all year and even asked her out a couple of times. So far she’d turned him down. Not that Pierce wasn’t nice. He was even pretty good-looking. His eyebrows of slightly different heights and vaguely crooked nose gave him an appealingly interesting face. He simply wasn’t a certain school principal who had already captured her attention. Of course, she might do well to give up that hopeless quest and give Pierce a chance. Ellen sure thought so. She’d been trying to get them together all year. And Laney was all for finding a good husband. Briana deserved the daddy she kept praying for…but first, her precious little girl needed to be safe.
A welcome figure stepped into the reception area. Now she didn’t have to ask Miss Aggie to call over the intercom.
“Ellen!” Laney motioned her friend over.
“Oh, girl!” Ellen swept her into big arms, and her lavender scent enveloped Laney.
For a brief instant, she allowed herself to slump into the comfort. Then she pulled away. “Can you go with this agent,” she pointed to the big fellow in a sport coat who’d come up behind Ellen, “and look after Briana?”
“Anything.” Ellen’s brown eyes poured warm honey over Laney. “We’ll hang out in my classroom.”
“Thanks. You’re the best.” Laney squeezed her friend’s hand and called for Briana. “You remember what I told you about minding anyone watching out for you.”
“I will, Mama.”
The little girl skipped off, holding Ellen’s hand and trailed by Hulk Hogan’s clone with a buzz cut.
Laney closed the office door and returned to her hot seat in front of Agent Burns.
The agent studied her with flat eyes. “What do you know about Ryder?”
“What’s that got to do with this situation?”
Burns stared at her like a hawk at a mouse.
Laney shifted in her seat and crossed her legs. “He’s a terrific school principal.”
“That’s it?”
“I’ve only been here one school term. It’s not like we hang out socially.” Not that she wouldn’t like to, but that was none of Burns’s business.
The agent twirled a paper clip between his thumb and forefinger. “Don’t place any confidence in him to figure this out for you. Leave that to the professionals.”
Laney blinked at him. What in the world was he getting at?
A knock sounded at the door.
“Come!” Burns called.
A short man walked in carrying a box about the size of a microwave oven. Laney recognized the strap of Grace’s backpack sticking out the top inside a clear plastic bag.
“This is Agent Wallace,” Burns said. “One of our Evidence Recovery Technicians. I need you to take a look at the items from your sister’s backpack and tell us if you notice anything out of place or missing.”
“O-okay,” Laney quavered. Nausea churned her insides.
Wallace began taking bagged and tagged items out of the box and laying them carefully on any available surface. First, the empty pack itself. Then papers and notebooks and pencils and erasers, a ruler, an assortment of hair pins, a shriveled and barely recognizable candy bag, a smashed calculator and several school texts and workbooks.
“That’s it?” Burns grated.
“All she wrote,” Wallace confirmed.
“I see nothing out of place.” Laney walked around and forced herself to examine every object. “Even the candy is her favorite—Reese’s Pieces.” A lump crowded into her throat and tears stung her eyes. Oh, Gracie! She swallowed the lump and took a deep breath. “What’s this dark stuff staining the corner of the bag and this book? It’s not—” She didn’t finish the statement, as her brain registered the truth without needing to hear from the technician.
Her sister’s lifeblood.
Her gut heaved, and she hurried from the room. No one tried to stop her. She dodged between people in the crowded reception area. Her foot rammed something hard, and she stumbled. Righting herself, she looked down to see heavy, brown work boots. Must be steel-toed. Then she looked up into the scowling face of the custodian, Richard Hodge. His glower chilled her heated rush.
“Pardon me,” she murmured.
The man sneered and turned away.
Laney stared at his stiff, broad back. Why did the custodian dislike her? She shook her head and moved on, grief surging behind her eyes. A headache began to throb. She needed to get somewhere alone. Just for a few minutes.
She reached the exit, but a hand closed around her arm and turned her.
“Pierce. Hi. I can’t talk right now. I’m going—”
“Wherever it is, consider me your escort.” His concerned brown gaze drew a trickle from a corner of her eye. “Hey!” His thumb wiped at the tear.
She ducked her head. “I’m sorry. I don’t think you can go with me to the restroom.” She escaped out the door of the office.
In the hallway, students were rushing around, getting ready to head for home. Locker doors rattled, and juvenile voices yelled greetings and banter. Familiar sounds. Comforting sounds. Even the threat of a nameless stalker couldn’t douse the kids’ spirits on a fine day this close to summer break. Laney moved quickly between them, forcing herself to bestow smiles.
Fellow staff members called encouragement like, “We’re with you, Laney,” and shot her thumbs-up. But she read from their eyes that they didn’t know how to guarantee a good outcome any more than she did. Their sense of safety had been violated along with hers. At last she reached the ladies’ room and scurried past people to the last stall. She darted inside, closed the door, and leaned her aching head against the cool metal.
Oh, God, let this be a dream.
But it wasn’t, and she couldn’t turn back today’s clock any more than she could have turned it back eighteen years ago and made a different choice on that awful day.
