SEAL Brotherhood 06 - SEAL My Destiny

by Sharon Hamilton

  Taking in a deep breath, she said, “You’re right. I’m probably being more paranoid than I need to be. I’ll just get it over with and then, if we can’t come to terms and I think I need you, I’ll tell them I need to think it over first.”

  “You know this is private stuff. Not something I have any jurisdiction to oversee, anyway. But I do think Connors has come up with a creative solution, plus you’ll make a little extra money. That doesn’t hurt, right? And you’d be in the perfect position to make a recommendation to the district for next year.”

  It did have some validity as an argument. “Only one problem. Dr. Connors has told the Millers she will pass to the third grade. That stipulation wasn’t based on any evaluation done by me. I don’t think my opinions will even be considered.”

  “Well, that’s my job. You know what they say. If you’ve got enemies, keep them close so you can keep an eye on their activities. This way perhaps the District will dodge the bullet.”

  “Thought you were supposed to be there for me, not the District.”

  “I am thinking about you first. The lawsuit is bad for you, and it’s bad for the District. This has a chance to work, Julie. Let’s give it a try. Better for everyone involved.”

  Mr. Miller walked into Julie’s classroom alone, carrying a bouquet of flowers.

  “Peace offering, Miss Julie,” he said, extending the hefty bouquet.

  She focused on the lovely flowers, but what stuck in her chest was the “Miss Julie” term Luke had used so many times when they’d made love. It had only been two days since she’d last seen him, but she’d begun to hope it wouldn’t continue to be so painful.

  She sighed and took the flowers from Miller’s outstretched hand. “Thanks,” she said, turning. She walked to the sink to get out a vase and put the bouquet in water. She removed the plastic, added the sugar packet, dropped the bouquet in, and stuck them on the shelf above the sink unceremoniously. She wasn’t going to give him reason to believe bringing the flowers had melted her icy demeanor. And because Noreen wasn’t there, and he hadn’t brought his wife, she was very worried.

  She gestured to the chair across from her desk, which was piled with books and made a good barrier.

  “So, Mr. Miller—”

  “Please call me Carl.”

  She adjusted her tongue because she was going to say something she knew wasn’t smart. The “C” in Carl would have stuck in her throat. “I’ve been instructed to address you as Mr. I hope you don’t mind.” She was proud she’d been able to give him a deceptively warm smile, even broader than she intended.

  “No harm, no foul, Julie. I can call you Julie, though, right?”

  “Of course.”

  So far so good. But a marching band with pointed hats was jumping up and down in her stomach.

  “The root of Corey’s problems is focus-related. Have you ever had her tested?”

  “For what?” He blinked, and a serious crease appeared above his nose, as though the idea had never occurred to him.

  “Learning disabilities. There could be some components of ADD, for instance—”

  “Nothing wrong with my Corey. No tests.”

  Well, holy heck, what was she thinking? Of course he wouldn’t want any testing on the girl, who swung from being so shy she wouldn’t speak up to raging at her teacher the next moment for encouraging her participation. And she accused everyone of hating her, and openly talked about it. These were things Julie would have found troubling in a much older child, but with a second grader, she was truly alarmed.

  “Only thing wrong with her is she’s struggling to keep up,” he insisted.

  “Well, yes, I certainly see that, Mr. Miller. Which is why I recommended she stay back a year, to ease her stress, the pressure she’s experiencing. She’s emotionally immature—”

  “You know what I find most disturbing, Miss Julie? Your school gave her an incompetent first-year teacher and now wants her to pay the price by staying back a year? Where is the school’s responsibility for the fact that she wasn’t taught in a way which made it possible for her learn?”

  It was an age-old complaint every teacher heard at some point. There wasn’t anything wrong with the child, it was the teaching methods the parents found fault with. Parents who had a vested interest, which was as it should be, but who had difficulty trusting the school district and even its best teachers. And Julie considered herself one in the latter. She’d tried harder to work with Corey than anyone else in the classroom, but had found her nearly impossible, and had constantly requested testing, which the principal never acted on.

  She wondered if there was something going on in the home which could warrant an outside source being called, like Child Protective Services, CPS. If she could just find one scar, one bruise, the call would be extremely easy to make.

  “Mr. Miller, I understand your reluctance—”

  His pattern of throwing her off with his interruptions was noted.

  “I’m not reluctant. I simply refuse.” The evil smile which followed his comment chilled Julie to her core. She saw glimpses of something dangerous.

  “If there is a tool we can use to help your daughter’s progress, wouldn’t you want to use it?”

  He squinted back at her, indicating she was treading on delicate territory. “I want what’s best for Corey. She is, of course, my child. My only child.”

  Julie looked down at her registration paperwork. “Mr. Miller, when you registered her for school, it says right here she has an older sister.”

  “Who has gone to live with her mother,” he completed.

  She decided it wasn’t smart to mention that even though the girl didn’t live with him, she was still his daughter. Or was she? And did it matter?”

  “Does Corey have much contact with her? I never near anything about her in class. But then, she’s very shy, unless she gets angry.”

  “Yes, she’s the same with me. Very sweet and docile, but she shares her father’s passionate temper.”

  Red alarm bells were going off all over the place. Julie decided right then, there would be no private tutoring lessons, and any future meeting would take place in the presence of at least one, maybe two, other colleagues.

  Damn you, Dr. Connors. She’d been hung out to dry. Sacrificed.

  She leaned back in her chair, closing the folder on her desk and crossing her arms. The cell phone on her desk lit up and she saw the text from Noreen,

  “Can’t make it. Call me when it’s over to discuss.”

  Damn. Sweat formed under her armpits and ran down her sides. Her right hand had a slight tremor. Glancing around the room, she saw he could easily corner her, keep her there, and no one would find her for hours. Suddenly her classroom felt like a prison.

  Then she had an idea.

  “Excuse me, Mr. Miller. I have to take this call.” She held her phone to her ear, pressed the recording button and recorded a voice message.

  “Noreen, so sorry! I forgot about the meeting.” She hit her forehead with her palm. “Look, I’m just about finished here. I’m with Mr. Miller, you know, the father of the little girl in my class I spoke to you about?”

  She paused a significant length of time to give the impression she was hearing another’s reply, then began again.

  “Yes, well, I can be over there in about…oh,” she pretended to check the time on her cell, “…say, twenty minutes? Or would you and the officer like to meet me here?”

  She chanced a glance up to Mr. Miller’s face and was rewarded to see some degree of alarm showing there, quickly hidden.

  “Fine, Noreen. I’m sure this won’t take long, just a second.” She tucked the phone under her chin and asked him, “I’m very sorry, Mr. Miller. Do you think we could reschedule? We’ve got a meeting with the Police Athletic League about a softball tournament coming up this summer, a fundraiser. I’d completely forgotten about it until just now.”

  “No. You run along. We can discuss this another day.” He stood up as
she pretended to finish the call. He paced back and forth in front of her in long, liquid movements, like a panther in a cage. She knew he was dangerous, perhaps borderline psychotic. He was powerfully built as well.

  “Okay, Noreen. I’m all yours in just a few. Be right over. And please tell the officers I’m sorry.” She ended the recording, hit send message and typed in her brother’s email, which was the only one she could think of. Hitting done, she let the voice message go through the airwaves to a phone which was probably somewhere on a beach in the Caribbean.

  She set the phone down when Miller approached the desk. Just as he leaned forward to say something, Julie heard the delivery zip tone, indicating the message had been sent. He righted himself and looked at her carefully. She didn’t flinch but was relieved when he broke eye contact first.

  “Tomorrow. I’ll meet you here tomorrow Noon. I’ll bring lunch.”

  He turned around and left the room with stealth speed, and without waiting for her consent. She noted he was used to getting his way, which bothered her more than anything else. She was sure there was an unhealthy family dynamic going on there. There was no way in God’s green earth she would attend the next meeting alone.

  Chapter 25

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  Kyle had wanted to see Luke in the morning. Luke was feeling pretty good, and had placed a call to his psychiatrist at the medical center requesting an appointment earlier than the standing one he had next week.

  He heard words being exchanged on the other side of the front door, and it was clear Christy and Kyle were having an argument. Kyle hadn’t texted him to call the meeting off, so Luke knocked.

  He heard a muffled, “It’s Luke.” Kyle opened the door and stared at his bare toes while he gestured for Luke to enter their cute but very upscale home a block from the beach.

  Brandon immediately dropped toys in the middle of the living room and ran over to Luke to get a hug. Luke tousled the boy’s sandy brown hair and allowed the chubby arms to hug his knees. He bent over and spoke softly to him, “How’s it hanging, little man?”

  “See, Kyle, that’s what I’m talking about,” Christy snapped.

  Luke stood up immediately and looked to his LPO for guidance. Kyle reassured him with their hand signal, “all clear” sliding his palm through the air.

  “We’ve got to get to Brandon’s preschool to have a little parent conference. But it won’t take long,” Kyle said.

  “You don’t know that,” Christy said with her hands on her hips. She was, as she usually was, dressed in a plain white silk suit which highlighted her blonde hair and tanned skin. Kyle was dressed in cargoes, flip-flops and a surfing T-shirt.

  “Christy, come on. We’re talking about Brandon.”

  “Hey, man,” Luke began. “Why don’t I stop by later on, after the dust settles?”

  “Good,” said Christy.

  “No way. You’re coming with us,” Kyle responded right over the top of her. “He’s gonna have to do this someday. Consider it research,” he said to Christy.

  She humphed to the kitchen, picked up her purse and keys. “You guys are on your own with Brandon afterwards if they won’t take him. I have to work.”

  Luke was uncomfortable, but figured whatever it was Kyle had to say to him, it was better off said in the car, and alone. Of course it would change in the years to come, but Brandon wasn’t old enough to make out much of what they discussed, whatever was on his LPO’s agenda.

  They strapped Brandon into the car seat, and Kyle let the huge black Hummer roar to life.

  He wanted to ask his LPO what was going on with Brandon, but figured it was a personal matter. He must have read his mind just then, because he offered an explanation.

  “Remember what I told you yesterday about Brandon dropping his spoon?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Well, he’s f—” Kyle leaned in and whispered, “He’s fuckin’ doing it at school, too. And the teachers want to have a meet and greet.”

  Which was funny. It was Kyle’s secret way of talking about the snatch-n-grabs they did overseas. A Meet and Greet with a SEAL usually meant you were the target of an investigation of some sort, and wasn’t ever considered a good thing by the target, but it was a great way to pick up intelligence.

  “That all it is?”

  “Think so. It’s what they told Christy. And believe me, if she’d had a reason to bust my balls any more about it, she would have.”

  Luke sat back and was relieved it wasn’t about anything worse than strong language.

  “She’s been grumpy lately. I’m guessing she’s pregnant.”

  “Nice work, sailor. You knocked her up on the ship, then?”

  “Apparently so. But if I’d have known she’d turn into this, I’d have reconsidered it.”

  They both stared out the windshield for a few seconds. As if on cue, they looked at each other, and in unison, shouted, “Not!”

  “Well, congrats, then,” Luke finally said while they made the turn into the First Presbyterian Preschool parking lot. Christy was already standing by her Mercedes coupe.

  “For what? I didn’t tell you anything.” Kyle looked in his rear view mirror and shouted to Brandon, “Lips tight, Brandon, okay?”

  “Okay Daddy,” came the enthusiastic response.

  “You can’t teach ‘em too young.” Kyle got out and leaned down to look back into the Hummer. “Come on and get your butt outa there. Time to learn a lesson in being a family. You’ll have to do this someday.”

  Luke wasn’t sure he wanted to accompany his LPO, but he figured he didn’t have an option.

  Brandon was spewing, “Get your butt outa here,” and pointing in Luke’s direction. Kyle immediately shushed him by putting his fingers to his mouth.

  “Not now Brandon,” he whispered tenderly.

  Brandon put his chubby hands on either side of Kyle’s face. “Okay, Daddy,” he whispered, and smiled, his eyes bright with the secret.

  Christy was frostier than at the house. Luke suspected part of the reason he was along for the ride was so Kyle didn’t have to experience a full-on assault from her, since she wouldn’t do it in front of him. Which probably pissed her off more.

  In the hallway they could hear children playing on the other side of Dutch doors open for drop-off and pickup. No other parents were present and, from the sounds of the voices, it appeared classes had started a while ago.

  Kyle lifted Brandon in the direction of a young teacher who greeted him with open arms, but Kyle insisted he set the toddler down on the floor on the other side of the door.

  “Brandon,” he called to him.

  “Yes, Daddy?”

  Kyle made the motion of zipping his mouth up and Brandon nodded and repeated the action. Then his LPO watched his son run to play with the other children.

  Christy was standing a few feet away with a woman in a plum-colored dress who was holding a file folder.

  “Kyle, this is Nancy Jordan, the preschool director.”

  Kyle shook her hand. She looked around Kyle to Luke with a question on her face.

  “Oh, sorry,” Kyle said. “This is Luke. He’s one of the men I work with. If you don’t mind, Christy and I thought sitting in on a meeting would be good information for him, you know, when the day comes.”

  Luke could feel Christy’s anger boil. She was way more emotional than he’d seen her in a long time. He understood all that. But her reasons were her own and impossible for him to figure out.

  Nancy bowed and said hello, then led them to her office, which was just on the other side of Brandon’s playroom. A two-way mirror had been installed on both the outside wall and the interior wall, so she could observe the children.

  Christy and Kyle sat at her desk and Luke found a chair in the corner, settling in, trying to make himself small.

  “Okay, well, thank you for coming in today. We generally don’t do these sorts of meetings at the end of a school year. Everyone is so busy, but we felt this was important,” the
director said.

  “Christy said Brandon was not behaving. In what way?” Kyle asked.

  “I think I can show you best by playing a little video clip we took of him,” she answered him.

  Luke could tell this wasn’t going to sit right with Kyle, since videotaping children was supposed to be semi-illegal in California, except for family members or unless permission was given first. Kyle and Christy looked at each other.

  “That’s illegal,” Kyle said to the director. “You take this?”

  “No it was taken as a teaching aid—”

  “I don’t care what’s on the fuckin’ video, if my son’s picture is on it, I’m walking outta here with it today.”

  “No reason to take that tone with me, Mr. Lansdowne. I think you’ll understand, if you’ll just let me play it for you. Please.”

  Kyle blustered and sat back. “Go ahead,” he mumbled.

  “I’m going to erase it right after you see it. Not to worry, Mr. Lansdowne.”

  The TV monitor lit up and there was a view of the playground. Brandon was riding a scooter, propelling it with his feet, chasing one of his friends in another scooter who was holding up a piece of paper bag, decorated like a flag. It was covered in scribbles and stickers. The boy in front was waving it proudly above his head.

  “He’s going too fast?” Kyle said to the monitor. “That what this is about?”

  “No, Mr. Lansdowne. Just watch.”

  Another boy ran up behind the lead boy and snatched the flag from his fingers, which prompted Brandon to stop suddenly, causing a backup on the roadway. Several other children collided due to the traffic jam. But Brandon had abandoned his scooter and run off camera. They all could hear yelling coming from around the corner, and two of the teachers, who had been supervising some organized play nearby, immediately sprang into action. Brandon came back on camera, chasing the little boy with the flag. He overcame the youngster and pushed him to the ground, then retrieved his flag and handed it to his friend.

  Walking back to his scooter, he turned and, very clearly and deliberately, said, “You fuckin’ axle.”