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As he started to walk out the front door of his apartment, he noticed that he had two messages on his voicemail.
He punched the play button. The first message was a call from a telemarketer wanting his mortgage business. Irritation made him hit the skip button harder than necessary. The second call started with dead air.
Paul sighed, his hand halfway to the skip button, when a disembodied voice rumbled from the machine. “Stay away from the teacher if you know what’s good for you.”
His heart skipped a beat, then kicked back into high gear, adrenaline shooting through his veins. He replayed the message again and again. The voice was so garbled, he couldn’t recognize it. He left his apartment and headed for the office, hitting the number on his cell phone for Brian Thomas, the district’s techno guru. Between the recording and the cell phone records, maybe they’d get a new lead on the killer before he took another life.
He managed to get into the office, meet with Brian, complete some pressing paperwork and leave without being interrupted more than ten times before eight-thirty. Mel had headed for Breuer first thing thatmorning to question the victim’s family. Cain had his head down for once, working the mound of background checks.
Paul avoided the man, not in the mood for another pissing contest on Cain’s assignment. He had a date to keep with the sheriff of Kendall County and just enough time to get there, if he hurried.
Before Elise hadthe chance to set her purse in her desk drawer at school, Gerri Finch marched into her room, towing an already frazzled Principal Ford behind her.
“Ms. Johnson, I’ve spoken to the principal concerning your behavior toward my daughter and she agrees you’re picking on her.”
“No, Mrs. Finch, I did not agree.” Principal Ford gave Elise a tight smile. “I agreed to listen to both sides of the story and that’s all.”
“Ashley has the right to free speech just like anyone else in the United States of America. It says so in the Declaration.”
“The Constitution, Mrs. Finch,” Principal Ford corrected. “Everyone has the right to free speech, but we have classroom rules to maintain order so that all students can learn. And these rules are what the students and the parents all agree to at the beginning of the school year.”
“I don’t remember agreeing to any rules.” Gerri Finch tapped her alligator skin stilettos against the shiny linoleum tiles, making an angry staccato sound that beat in rhythm with the headache pounding against Elise’s temples.
Principal Ford sighed. “When you signed the signature sheet at the back of the student handbook, you agreed to the rules contained within.”
“Well, if I’d known it had such stupid rules in it, I wouldn’t have signed it.”
“Nevertheless, you did, and you and your child are bound by the rules.”
Elise fought back the smile of gratitude. At least one person was on her side this morning.
“We’ll see about that. Anyway, it goes, Ms. Johnson is picking on my daughter.”
The principal turned to Elise.
“Ashley likes to talk in class to the point she disrupts others from getting their work done,” Elise explained.
“She can’t help it. She’s smarter than the others.” Gerri’s chest swelled forward. “She gets it from both sides.”
“Ashley has been late to class five times.”
The principal’s brows rose as she turned back to Mrs. Finch. “Three tardies is enough to send her to Saturday school. Five is two more chances than she deserved.”
“But Saturday is the cheer competition. Ashley’s the captain. She has to be there.”
“She should have thought of that before she arrived late for class for the fifth time.” The principal held the door open for Gerri. “Now, if you’ll come this way, we can continue this discussion in my office and let Ms. Johnson get on with teaching her class.”
Gerri Finch glared at Elise. “This isn’t over. I know your game. I’ll make you regret targeting my daughter with your petty vindictiveness. You’ll be gone before you collect your next paycheck.” The woman’s voice dripped with venom, but she allowed the principal to hook an arm through her elbow and drag her away.
Elise let out the breath she’d been holding, sagging into her chair behind her desk. Wasn’t it enough she had someone depositing death threats in her cubby? Did she have to put up with over-indulgent moms as well?
Her eyes narrowed on the retreating form of Gerri Finch. What did she mean by “I know your game”? Would she know about Elise’s background? She shook her head. If she did, she’d have shouted it from the rooftops of the school by now and had Elise canned so fast, she wouldn’t have had time to mutter the wordbut.
She shook off the thought and got down to the business of shaping young minds with lessons from the past. If only the past wasn’t prone to repeat performances.
Paul arrivedat Denny’s at exactly nine. His gazepanned the tables and booths for the heavyset sheriff, spying him in the far left corner.
The sheriff waved a hand toward the opposite booth seat. “I’ve already ordered,” he said, lifting his cup of coffee toward the waitress and nodding at Paul.