by Lisa Jackson
“Flirting? I don’t think so.” But the glint in his eyes told her differently. Her heart raced a little faster as she remembered exactly how it felt to kiss him, how his tongue touched the roof of her mouth and caused a tingle deep inside. How the crush of his lips brought heat to the back of her neck. How he’d made her go weak, her knees giving way of their own accord.
As if reading her thoughts, he said, “So what is it you want, Jules?”
“I hate to burst the bubble that’s your incredible ego, but I really didn’t think I’d find you here.”
One doubting eyebrow cocked.
As if she were challenging him. The way it had often raised just before he pulled her into his arms and kissed her hard, to prove the point that she wanted him.
She had to fight the urge to back up a step.
A paint with a white face and blue eyes pushed his head over the top of the box and snorted, sniffing. Jules moved toward the stall to stroke the gelding. “You think I have a treat,” she said to the horse to break the tension, “but I don’t.”
“Scout’s always looking for something,” he said.
“Typical male.”
“Yeah, well, don’t tell him, but he’s been gelded.”
“Oops.” She glanced at the horse. “Sorry, boy.” She felt Trent’s eyes on her, studying her. “You know, I really didn’t think I’d run into anyone in here.”
“So, what, you just came to the crime scene to look it over?”
“I guess.” She scratched Scout beneath his black forelock. It was hard to explain. She didn’t want to think she was the victim of morbid curiosity, but there was a part of her that wanted to know what had happened, to see for herself and connect with the victims. “I thought maybe if I saw where it happened, I’d have some idea of why and how it connects, if it connects to Lauren Conway’s disappearance. Don’t tell me the same thought didn’t cross your mind.”
“Okay, I won’t.”
“I came to Blue Rock to see what was going on and to get Shay out of here if I found out that the academy wasn’t the answer it was supposed to be.” She shook her head and bit her lip, thinking. “But even before I got here, things turned upside down, a girl killed. It just doesn’t make any sense.”
“Nothing does,” he admitted.
“Well, then, let’s add another cryptic note to the mix.” Jules retrieved the note from her pocket and handed it to him. “I found this under my door this morning.”
Trent read the simple message and frowned. “From Shay?”
“I don’t know. But I don’t think so.”
“Mind if I keep it?”
“Sure, but why?”
“I’m a deputy now,” he said, then told her about O’Donnell’s call.
“So it’s official.” It seemed to underline the feeling of safety she had near Trent, physical safety, even if her emotions scattered wildly when he was close by. “Does Lynch know?”
“We haven’t talked about it, but I’m sure O’Donnell has.”
“Tell me about our fearless leader,” she suggested.
“Lynch? All I know is that he’s been here from the get-go and has a vision of this school being an example for others; he sees Blue Rock as his mission.”
“What about his wife?”
“Cora Sue?” He shook his head. “Piece of work, that one. I’m not sure she shares her husband’s vision. Avoids this place like the plague.”
“She’s here now.”
“Well, Cora Sue comes when she’s called.” He leaned over the rail of one of the stalls and patted the head of a dark horse with a burst of jagged white on its forehead. “She makes it very clear that she’d rather be anywhere else, but she comes and he shows her off, they’re together, but if you read her body language, she’s just doing her duty.”
“Why is that?”
“I don’t pretend to understand marriages, but if I had to guess, I’d say they stay together because of the money, or their vows.”
“They don’t love each other?”
“Who knows?” he said as the dark horse turned away from him.
“You think he cheated on her?”
“Possibly, or maybe the other way around,” he thought aloud. “But don’t ask me; I’m not exactly batting a thousand when it comes to relationships, but he’s definitely got some kind of influence on her. As I said, when he calls, she comes running.”
“Like a dog to her master,” she said, remembering the conversation she’d heard while eavesdropping on the reverend’s porch.
“Who knows what goes on in people’s relationships,” he said, his gaze touching hers.
For a second, she remembered how much she’d loved him. Thought you loved him. Remember? It didn’t work out.
The conversation was taking a dangerous path, so she said, “I take it, this”—she motioned to the stained floor beneath the opening to the hayloft—“is where Drew Prescott was found? I heard he suffered from a head wound.” Her stomach curdled as she imagined the boy lying on the dusty floor.
“That’s right.”
She leaned down, studying the discoloration, though what she thought she’d find, she didn’t know. She wasn’t an investigator and knew nothing about blood spatter or body position or anything that dealt with murder.
About an arm’s length from the large blotch was another stain about the size of her spread hand. “What’s this?”
“Blood. Smeared,” he admitted. “The crime scene investigators took samples and pictures.”
“That stain happened the night of the murder?” He was nodding as she rocked back on her heels and stared at the small stain. “Odd.”
“Any theories?”
She shook her head and looked up at him. “Sorry. Fresh out.” But it was strange. Had the blood come from Andrew? Nona? Or someone else? She glanced up, through the opening to the darkened hayloft. Dear God, what had happened up there?
Trent said, “You can go up if you want.”
“I’m not sure I want to,” she admitted, but was already walking to the ladder, avoiding stepping on the bloodstain and trying like crazy to ignore the trepidation chilling her soul.
Gripping the steel rungs, knowing she was following the same path that Nona had taken only nights before, she ascended into the loft. From below, Trent snapped on the lights, bare bulbs mounted high overhead. They added an unworldly glow to the old crossbeams and soaring, drafty ceiling rising high over the loft, where hundreds, maybe thousands, of bales had been stacked.
Jules heard Trent climbing to the loft as she walked along a wide path between fat, cubed bales, some of which were strewn haphazardly, others split open, spilling dry stalks, obviously torn apart during the investigation.
Near the far wall, Jules paused and looked up at the single window, high overhead, snow lining the glass. It was cracked a bit, and evidence of an owl drizzled down the plank walls.
In her mind’s eye, Jules saw the nude body of a girl hanging from one of the crossbeams. Swinging slowly. Skin a gray-white, eyes fixed.
Jules shook her head to shake off the image. God, she didn’t need more death in her psyche. But the girl’s ghost had touched her now and would probably haunt her forever.
“What the hell happened here?” she whispered, suddenly cold to the bone.
Trent was beside her, shaking his head, raking stiff fingers through his hair. He stared up at the rafters, as if he, too, could see her. “Two kids meet in the stables.” He nodded toward the corner of the loft. “They had sort of a love nest built out of bales over there. Apparently it was set up in advance, though for how long I don’t know. Flannagan doesn’t take any shit from these kids.”
“Rumor has it they were found naked,” she said, and he nodded. “So they were attacked while they were having sex … or possibly afterward?”
“Yeah. Prescott gave a statement to the detectives. He claims he and Nona were going at it, about finished, he on top, when the world exploded. He can’t even remember a
ny pain, just that one minute he was having sex, the next he found himself waking up in a hospital.”
Jules thought aloud, “So someone came in, hit him, kicked him through the hole in the floor, and then hung her? Really?” That didn’t sound right.
“No weapon was found. The cut on the back of Andrew’s head was deep, probably from a sharp rock, but the police haven’t found it yet. Until the storm breaks, they might never.” He glanced down at her. “For all anyone knows, it could be at the bottom of the lake or buried under two feet of snow.” He squinted upward to the wooden ceiling. “As for Nona, she was probably already dead when the killer strung her up.” He glanced down at Jules, his eyes dark in the watery light, his jaw set. “The details are ugly.”
“I can deal with ugly.” Painful memories flashed through her mind: her parents’ vile fights, nights spent huddled in her bed, wishing it would just stop, and then, ultimately, discovering her father’s body in a pool of blood. Yes, she had endured the ugly, worked beyond it, or at least tried. “What I can’t take is being blindsided.”
He hesitated, as if unsure how much he should divulge.
“I’m a big girl,” she reminded him.
“This I know,” he said, nodding. “I suppose if you’re going to stay here, you should be armed with the truth.” He told her about the severity of the attack, about how the coroner found that Nona’s hyoid bone was crushed, her larynx damaged, her vagina showing signs of rough sex. Hers had been a violent, painful death, and from the bruises on her neck, it was obvious that she’d been face-to-face with the person who had taken her life, had watched and struggled as he’d cut off her air, then, using a winch usually used in stacking the bales and a rope Flannagan had for the horses, he’d strung Nona’s nude corpse high above.
“What kind of sick mind would do that?” she asked, almost wishing she didn’t know the truth.
“Someone extremely disturbed.” Trent let his boot scrape at a wad of hay, and they both watched as golden strands of straw tumbled through the opening and fluttered down to the floor far below. “Someone here at the school.”
“So does the sheriff’s department think this is an isolated case?” she asked. “That Nona and maybe Drew were targets, that there’s a motive for the killings?”
“That’s the million-dollar question, isn’t it?” Trent said. “I guess time will tell.”
CHAPTER 28
Sundays, Shay had heard, were usually quiet on the campus, but today was different than most. Half the students were whining about being scared, and the administrators were freaking out and keeping everyone pent up in annoying group activities.
Reverend Lynch’s sermon had been less than inspired, but Father Jake managed to make the service a little more interesting and lively, and the kids responded to him. Shay had witnessed it herself and so had Lynch; he’d pretended not to notice that the younger preacher had everyone listening, but Shay had seen the reverend’s jaw tighten.
It probably had made things worse that his Barbie Doll of a wife had sat on the edge of her seat when Father Jake stood at the altar.
All in all, the church service had been a lot more interesting than Shay had expected.
Now, in the dining hall, along with everyone else, Shay was picking at her lunch, which consisted of chili, corn bread, coleslaw, and, afterward, ice-cream sundaes. “Sundaes for Sundays,” Lynch had proclaimed, and some of the kids thought that was clever.
Jules was seated on the far side, three tables away from Shay. Since Jules was no longer the guest of honor, she’d lost her spot at the head table. Also, Jules didn’t have a pod to oversee, so she could choose her spot. She’d taken a chair with some of the staff. Brawny Nurse Ayres sat to her left. On the other side was Spurrier, the friggin’ Red Baron, who was elbow-to-elbow with Flannagan, the creepy horse guy who was the essence of military macho. Shaylee had put up with enough of that jerk yesterday.
The math teacher Mr. DeMarco was a little more interesting. He had some of the same qualities she fell for with Dawg, a dangerous edge. She frowned at the thought of Dawg. He was the first of her boyfriends who had really gotten to her, but she’d been cautious. Wouldn’t Edie be shocked to learn that Shay hadn’t slept with him, hadn’t taken that step.
Shay hadn’t heard a word from him since she’d landed here, and though she told herself that was all part of the process, that he wasn’t allowed to call her from jail, she’d still been hurt.
What do you expect? That he would be different from every other man in your life?
“Yeah,” she whispered, dipping her straw in and out of her iced tea. Raw blisters lined her palms from hours spent shoveling manure and snow. Glancing up from her hands, she caught a glimpse of DeMarco’s smile, that sexy, faintly dangerous quality. She lifted the straw to her lips, sucked out a bit of tea, and chewed the end. Not that she would ever go for a math teacher like DeMarco. How stupid would that be? And how against the rules. If she was caught with him, maybe she’d be expelled.
Was it worth it?
Would juvie or another school be any better?
As Jules pushed her chair back, Shay let her gaze drift to the other woman at Jules’s table, that bossy secretary who couldn’t keep her eyes off Reverend Lynch. At least in the time when she wasn’t shooting daggers with her eyes at Lynch’s fussy little wife.
The good news? Shay knew her way around Ms. Charla King’s domain, including access to computers and files and records of the school. It was amazing what could be bought in the Blue Rock black market.
She saw Jules reach the hallway.
The second her sister rounded the corner, Shay dropped her straw into her glass, then knocked over the remains of her chili into her lap. She let out a little screech as she turned to Cooper Trent, who sat at the head of the table. “Sorry.” Man, she hoped he bought her act of being a klutz. Quickly dabbing at her lap with a paper napkin, she pushed her chair back and hurried off to the ladies’ room. The fake accident might be overkill, since no one really cared if a person used the facilities, but the mess on her clothes would gain her time in the bathroom, time she could use to talk to Jules.
Besides, even though she didn’t think there were cameras in the private dorm rooms, she wasn’t certain about common areas. Surely they had some security cameras on campus. Maybe mics, too. For all she knew, there could be microphones in the bathrooms.
The short hallway was empty as she slipped into the restroom. Still rubbing her shirt, she turned on the tap, soaked a paper towel, and scrubbed at the stains. A toilet flushed. Within seconds, the door to a stall opened and Jules stepped into the washroom.
Their gazes met in the mirror.
Jules started to say something, thought better of it, and taking a cue from Shaylee, turned on the tap.
“I saw you come in here,” Shaylee said in a low voice, her lips barely moving as she worked on her shirt. “Have you talked to Edie again?”
“No.”
“Damn it, Jules.” Shaylee kept rubbing the stain with the towel, which was starting to shred.
“Take it easy.” Thankfully Jules was playing along, pumping the soap, eyeing her reflection, smiling appropriately at Shaylee but keeping her voice nearly inaudible. “No one is getting in or out right now. Some parents want their kids home right away, but it’s out of the question. I heard that the road is impassable. I was one of the last people in. And with this storm, the seaplane and helicopter are grounded.”
Shaylee’s heart sank. She didn’t know how much longer she could stay here without losing her mind. “There has to be a way.”
Jules was shaking the water from her hands, though the tap was still running. “I’m working on it.”
“Well, work faster!” Shay urged as she tossed the disintegrating towel into the trash and noisily yanked out another from the dispenser. “I got to talk to Edie, you know.” From Jules’s deer-in-the-headlights expression, she obviously hadn’t heard. “Yeah, the administration let us each call one of our
parents and tell them that we’re ‘fine.’” She made air quotes with her fingers while hanging on to the wadded-up towel. “Well, I’m not ‘fine,’ and I told Edie as much. But Reverend Lynch must have gotten to her, smooth-talked her into believing the school is safe. All that crap about extra security guards and police so nothing else can go wrong.” She skewered her sister with a can-you-believe-this-crap? stare. “He also told her that I had ‘anger issues’ and that I got into a fight.”
“You did.”
“It wasn’t my fault! God, Jules, friggin’ Eric Rolfe started it. And now I’m stuck shoveling horse crap and snow for the weekend, probably longer.”
“So learn a lesson. Stay out of trouble.”
“Oh, sure. Should I just sit back like a wuss and let him diss Nona? Maybe you’d let him trounce on you, but that’s not me.”
“Shaylee, listen to me. I’m doing all this for you, so you might think twice about picking a fight with me.”
“Or what?” She glowered at Jules. “You’ll never stand up to Lynch. You’re too much of a wimp.”
Jules turned to face her, and her eyes blazed. She was stung at the insult. Good. Shay needed her sister on board.
“Just be smart, Shay. Prove that your IQ is as high as Mom thinks. And don’t leave me any more notes. You’ll get caught; we both will.”
“What’re you talking about?”
“The message under the door this morning.”
“Are you crazy?” Shay demanded. “What message?”
“Someone—I thought it might be you—left me a note, that’s all,” Jules said in a pissy tone.
“Who?”
“Would I ask you if I knew?”
Shay bit her lower lip, not liking this at all. “What did it say?”
“‘Help me.’”
“That’s it?”
“Yes.”
“It wasn’t me, okay?” Shay had to find a way to get through to her sister, to get her off the lame note. “I don’t know who left it, and I don’t care.” She tried another tack. “So, you’re just letting me be stuck here, in this school of the damned; is that what you’re saying?”
