She had just regained her porch when her mother's car pulled into her drive. Emily left the door open and toed off her sopping shoes. Her mom hurried in the door right behind her, shutting out the wind and rain. Knowing this was bound to be a trying conversation, Emily grabbed up her soda can from where she had left it on the coffee table. Her mom hung up her raincoat on one of the hooks by the door and turned to frown at the open soda in Emily's hand. "Don't start," Emily warned, motioning her to follow into the kitchen. She stuck a mug of water to heat in the microwave for her mom's preferred herbal tea. Emily shuddered at the smell alone, wondering how she could come from someone who would drink such a vile substance.
Surprised by her mom's silence, Emily started the conversation. "How did you find out? Did Helen call you?" Turning to hand her mom her tea, she finally took in her mom's appearance. She had on a pair of loudly striped orange-and-hot-pink capri pants, paired with a turquoise cable-knit sweater and the most hideous pair of dark green mud boots Emily had ever seen.
"What in the world are you wearing?" Emily asked before her mom could answer her.
"Oh," Emily's mom, the impetuous Susan Taylor, glanced down at herself and waved her hand dismissively. "All I could think of after hearing the news was getting over here to you. I grabbed the first things that came to hand." Emily silently decided it was time to help her mom weed through her closet if these were the first things that came to hand.
Out loud she said, "Thanks for coming, Mom."
Emily relived all of the details of the awful morning with her mom but didn't feel any better for having shared the story. Instead she felt angry and helpless. Angry at whoever had committed such a violent act and helpless to do anything to change things. Both she and her mom watched the lightning play across the sky through the window over Emily's breakfast nook. They were uncharacteristically silent. Emily assumed they were both thinking how futile words were in this situation—they could change nothing.
Emily was the first to break the silence by asking, "So, when did Helen call you?"
"Oh, Helen didn't. Tad called your father." Emily should have guessed. Tad Higginbotham, or Theodore, as Emily's dad called him, had been one of her dad's favorite students when he taught history at Ellington High. He and her dad had remained in touch over the years, and now Tad was her soda-stealing neighbor from the class next door. A flash of lightning lit up the kitchen as Emily started to make a comment about Tad being a tattletale. But her words were swallowed up by a deafening crack of thunder. Darkness followed as the power once again went out. Emily headed to her utility drawer for a flashlight, but her mom had already whipped out a lighter and lit the candle Emily kept in the center of her table. Emily stared at her mom in surprise as the homey scents of vanilla and cinnamon filled the room.
Emily asked, "Really, Mom? What the heck are you doing with a lighter?" Her mom had given up smoking before Emily was even born.
"Um…for incense," was Susan's mysterious reply. "Look, I gotta head out. Call me later." And then she dashed out the door before Emily could even form a response.
* * *
Emily watched her mom's headlights slice through the downpour, then turned to survey her darkened living room. Emily lit a few more candles and decided now was as good a time as any to get caught up on some grading. After her second essay on the themes in Macbeth, she felt herself slipping into a grading coma. By the sixth essay, she was drooling. She dreamed of Lady Macbeth's blood-stained hands and Jim's lifeless body. When a sound awoke her, she was both relieved and disoriented. Springing off the couch, she sent papers cascading to the floor. Her heart was pounding. What had she heard? A piercing bark sounded. Duke. That was the sound that had woken her. This was definitely not normal behavior for him. Maybe she should make sure things were okay. She needed to talk to Helen anyway.
A quick glance out the front window showed that the rain still had not let up, so she grabbed a raincoat before making the quick dash between her duplex's front porch and Helen's. She pounded on Helen's front door and shivered, waiting for Helen to answer. By the time her teeth were chattering and she had pounded her fist sore, Helen still hadn't come to the door. Maybe she hadn't made it home yet? Squishing through puddles, Emily made her way around Helen's side of the duplex to look in the kitchen windows. Duke was pacing and clawing at the door. The poor guy looked desperate to go out, but there was no sign of Helen, and her trusty Tahoe wasn't in the carport either. Figuring this was as close to an emergency as she needed to use the spare key Helen had given her a while back, Emily rushed back to her own duplex, grabbing the key off a hook by the door. She had barely gotten Helen's door open, when Duke raced out between her legs to cower under the front maple to do his business. Emily grabbed a towel out of the linen closet and met Duke at the door, wiping down his paws. She followed him as he padded back into the kitchen toward his food and water bowls. His empty and dry food and water bowls. What the heck? Helen might not have made it home yet this morning, but she wouldn't have left Duke without fresh food and water.
A quick glance in the bedroom showed the bed still neatly made. That wasn't really surprising, though. Helen was a neat freak. There were no breakfast dishes in the sink either, so could that mean Helen hadn't been home last night? Or had she just straightened everything up before leaving for school this morning? While a foreign concept to Emily, she knew that some people actually preferred things neat and tidy, not chaotic and "piled." Emily turned a circle in the empty kitchen. Duke whined, so she went ahead and refilled his food and water bowls, which he attacked like a tiny, ravenous wolf.
Helen had been at school yesterday— Emily had talked to her on her way out. So did she ever come home? Emily had been in her allergy medicine-induced coma before dark, so she wouldn't have heard anything from next door even if Helen had been holding a rave. Which, of course, was highly unlikely. So if Helen hadn't come home last night, then where was she now? And did she even know about Jim Layton's murder?
Leaving Duke happily munching away, Emily used Helen's landline to call Tad. His phone rang several times before he answered with a wary, "Hello? Tad Higginbotham."
"It's me, Emily. I'm calling from Helen's duplex."
"That would explain why I didn't recognize the number. A landline? Really? I wasn't sure anyone had those anymore, though they definitely come in handy in weather like this."
Emily rolled her eyes. Why did every conversation with Tad sound like a lecture? "Listen, I don't have time to debate the merits of landlines with you right now. Have you seen Helen?"
"Are you okay, Pitbull?" Tad had called her Pitbull ever since they were teens. He always said she was like an attack dog if she didn't get her way or she was defending someone she loved—she'd bite your leg off and then beat you with it. Emily hated the nickname, which was probably why Tad insisted on continually using it.
"What? No, I'm fine. I just want to know if you've seen Helen since school yesterday."
"You told me that you're calling from Helen's place. Aren't you looking at her? Are you in trouble? What's going on?"
"Whoa there, Cowboy. I'm fine. Duke was barking his head off, so I came to check things out. When he clearly needed to uh…use the facilities, I used the spare key Helen gave me to let him out. His food and water bowls are both empty. Did you go up to the school today? Did you see Helen there?"
Finally full, Duke came over and stared up at Emily with sad, brown eyes. He put his paws on her leg, begging for attention. She wished she could give his belly a good rub, but she knew if she touched him, she would be toast. Her allergies were already in full swing, and one touch of that dog, and she would be one giant snot ball.
"No, Pit. I haven't seen Helen since I left school yesterday. I did go up to school this morning. I always try to get there early, as you know, to be fully prepared for the day." Emily gave another eye roll. "But instead, I found the place crawling with cops. I talked to Principal Matthews, and he told me what happened. I'm really sorry you had
to be the one to find him, Em." Tad's voice lowered in sympathy. Emily tried to smother the fluttery feeling in the pit of her stomach at his warm, caring voice.
Instead, she paused to clear her throat. "What should I do about Duke?" Ears perking up at the mention of his name, Duke lay down at Emily's feet, baring his little, pink belly. "He needs looking after, and I'm allergic."
Tad laughed deeply. "I'd forgotten that. Ironic. The Pitbull is allergic to the Yorkie." This time Emily not only rolled her eyes, she also snarled. Tad hastily continued, "I can take him. The Cruises won't mind if he stays here temporarily." Tad lived in a converted loft above the local hardware store. The Cruise family had run the store for years. Emily had fond memories of that loft space, but not because Tad lived there. The summer before her freshman year of high school, she and the Cruises' youngest son, Josh, had snuck up to what was then an empty loft to share their first kiss.
"Great. I'll gather up his supplies and bring him to you." It was only after she hung up that Emily realized she should have had Tad come to them. There was no way she could transport Duke without touching him. Oh well, sacrifices, sacrifices.
* * *
Drenched and out of breath, Emily banged on Tad's door. He opened it, looking both amused and sexy, which only irritated Emily more. She thrust dog accoutrements at him, blowing hair out of her eyes. Tad scooped up the dog carrier at the top of the stairs, leading the way into his apartment. "How did you get Duke in here if you can't touch him without sneezing your head off?" he asked. He let Duke out and the dog sniffed around and then settled comfortably on the bed Tad had made for him in the living room. Tad and Duke were apparently old friends.
Emily, trying not to feel left out by their instant male bonding, huffed, "Lucky for me, Helen had a pair of rubber gloves under the sink. Unlucky for Helen, she now needs a new pair." Tad snorted out a laugh, which he adroitly turned into a cough.
"So, what should we do now?" Emily asked. Now that Duke was safely delivered and she had caught her breath, she took a good look around her. Her eyes widened at the large number of candles bathing Tad's apartment in a warm glow due to the power outage. The apartment suddenly felt too small to contain the both of them. She felt her cheeks warm and quickly backtracked to rephrase her earlier question. "I mean, what should we do about Helen?"
Tad watched Emily silently for a few seconds. A few very long seconds, she thought. Tad had shown her absolutely no attention in high school, unless you counted his smirks and nicknames. Emily had had a huge crush on him as a freshman, but he had seemed oblivious to her very presence. Once he graduated, Emily had moved on, developing many more crushes over the years. But once both she and Tad had returned to town and they had ended up teaching together, Emily noticed that Tad no longer ignored her. In fact, there were times when she thought there might even be something brewing.
Tad finally broke eye contact and said, "Well, Nancy, I think we'd better head up to the school and see what we can find out. Duke seems to be fine." They both looked over to where Duke was sound asleep, snuffling out little dog snores.
"Alrighty, then, let's go. But 'Nancy?'" Emily questioned.
"Nancy Drew. I bet you read every one you could get your hands on when you were growing up, right?" And there was the smirk again.
"No comment." Emily tossed her head and headed out the door, leaving Tad to follow.
CHAPTER THREE
Tad insisted on their taking his sensible black Prius, refusing to set foot in what he called "Emily's deathtrap." Emily had bought her red PT Cruiser when she graduated from college. It had been all shiny and new then, but even Emily couldn't deny that it had seen better days. Besides her penchant for speeding, she also tended to multitask when she drove. Apparently reading and driving was not considered a way to better utilize time to most people. But despite its dents and dings, Emily knew it would be a long time before she could bear to part with her beloved car. She thought her PT looked very British. It's what she imagined Hercule Poirot would drive if Agatha Christie were still alive to create more mysteries for him and his little "gray cells" to solve. Clearly, Emily was a true Anglophile. Her dream was to visit London one day, but so far, the closest she had come was pinning sites to visit on her Places to Go Pinterest board.
Emily wiggled in her seat. She felt like they were traveling at the speed of snail. "Can't you go any faster, Grandpa?"
Tad merely glanced her way, never taking his hands off their ten and two position. "No. That's why my car doesn't look like it's been through a demolition derby."
Emily resisted, barely, the temptation to stick her tongue out at him. She wracked her mind for a witty comeback, but Tad's subtle cologne was penetrating her brain, clouding her senses. She settled for giving him the cold shoulder, staring out the passenger-side window instead. The rain was still coming down. An occasional rumble of thunder shook the heavens. Suddenly, Emily became aware of what she was actually staring at.
She smacked Tad's shoulder. "Look! The power must be back on." Lights were blooming in the windows of the houses they passed on their way to the school. The school itself, however, looked fairly deserted. The light was on in Principal Matthews's office and in a classroom at the far end of the second floor. Two vehicles were in the employee parking lot when they pulled in. One was Principal Matthews's black Ford 4x4. The other vehicle looked brand new, its temporary plate stuck in the back window.
Emily could have sworn Tad had to swipe at a drop of drool as he took in the sleek, forest-green Cobra parked beside them.
"Who in the heck drives that?" Emily asked.
Tad's only response was a shrug as he was still too busy checking out the car. "One lucky guy," he finally muttered.
"Or gal," Emily corrected before she hurried through the steadily falling rain to the main doors.
Inside, Emily stopped to shake rain off like a wet dog. Tad rushed in behind her, running a hand through his own sopping hair and scattering droplets of water. Still dripping, they headed toward Principal Matthews's office. Rounding the long counter that separated his office from the secretary's work area, Emily tugged at Tad's shirt, pulling him back so she could whisper to him.
"What?" Tad snapped in a hoarse whisper.
"Look at him. I almost hate to bother him. Have you ever seen him look so…well, not like himself?"
Tad peeked over her shoulder and nodded. "Yeah, he looks like a drowning man. A murder in his school has to be devastating for him. Wish I had a lifeline to throw him. At least we can show him some support."
Emily still hesitated before she knocked on his door. Principal Matthews always wore a tie, even to sporting events. He was fastidious about how he ran his school and was the same about his appearance. Everything about him always exuded confidence and professionalism. But right now, he was slumped at his desk, his head in his hands. His tie had been jerked askew and the top few buttons of his shirt were undone. His thick gray mane was disheveled. Emily was engulfed in waves of guilt, although she knew it wasn't exactly her fault that she had stumbled over a dead body in the school. But still, she hated to add to his concern. Maybe they should wait until later to talk to him about Helen and her possible disappearance.
Tad, apparently, had no such qualms. He strode through the door and clapped a hand on Principal Matthews's shoulder. The older man looked up, startled, but then seeing who was in his office, he gave them a small smile. Emily eased into one of the chairs in front of his massive desk. She squirmed uncomfortably. She knew she was being ridiculous, but she still felt like a student about to be chastised, nevertheless.
"How are things going?" Tad asked, taking the chair next to Emily's. She noticed he appeared totally at ease. He'd probably never seen the inside of the principal's office in high school, Emily thought, unless it was to receive some kind of merit award. She inched away from Mr. Perfect. Tad shot her a quizzical glance, but Emily focused on Principal Matthews.
"The police are through upstairs. They're sending over som
e people they know to clean so we can have the school up and running again tomorrow. I can't believe we've had this, this—atrocity happen here. Emily, are you okay?"
Principal Matthews's eyes were full of genuine concern, and Emily had to fight to speak over the sudden lump in her throat.
"I'm fine. Really," she reiterated when he lowered his brows at her. "I'm sorry about everything. And I certainly don't want to add to your worries, but have you seen Helen recently?"
"Helen? No, actually, I haven't. I checked her office earlier to see about coordinating some grief counseling for the students, but she wasn't there. I've left a message on her voice mail. Why do you ask? Is something wrong?" He looked like a man on a ledge. Emily didn't want to be the one who made him leap.
"I'm sure it's nothing," Tad was quick to reassure him. "Emily heard Duke barking and let him out to do his business. She saw that his food and water bowls were empty, and we all know Helen loves that dog like her own child, but I'm sure she just got caught up somewhere due to the weather. Now that the power is back on, she's sure to turn up soon."
"Okay. If you say so. That doesn't sound like Helen, though. I'll try to call her again later. If you hear anything, let me know, and I'll do the same."
"Of course. Anything else we can do?" Emily asked.
"No, I think I've got it under control."
As they stood up to leave, Tad stopped to ask Principal Matthews about the Cobra in the parking lot.
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