Page 3 of Dagger (Steel Demons MC #10)

Sinclair

I was going crazy.

T hat was the only explanation that made any sense for what was happening over the past couple of weeks.

I was losing my mind. Imagining things. Maybe I spent too much time watching true crime documentaries and those psychological thrillers, especially as a woman living alone.

Too many nights spent on the edge of my seat meant that every squeaky door, every creak of the floorboard, every car door that slammed in the distance, made me feel like I wasn’t alone.

But it was more than that. It wasn’t just sounds that made me jump when I was alone, which was pretty much anytime I wasn’t at school, it was the fact that I felt like I was being watched.

I’d catch a glimpse of a shadow when I looked out my window and I would swear there was a person in the distance.

But by the time I moved the blinds aside, they wouldn’t be there.

At the grocery store I felt someone following me, but I stopped and turned around only to find two little old ladies chatting about their favorite brand of oatmeal.

No matter where I went, that feeling persisted, which only meant one thing. I was definitely losing my mind because I felt the weight of someone’s too interested gaze on me, but every single time I turned around it was just people. Regular people. Old people. College students. Couples. Families.

The same thing when I was at home.

Nobody was watching me, because nobody knew me.

I’d only been in Steel City for a couple months and I didn’t have any friends, just a few teachers I engaged in friendly banter with in the teachers’ lounge.

The thing was, I was fresh off a year-long stint teaching third grade in Oregon, and for most of my time there I felt like I was being watched too.

Back then I chalked it up to the fact that it was a small town and people stared at the newcomer. It never came to anything, it was just weird.

Honestly, it was pretty laughable that anyone would want to stalk me.

They’d probably off themselves from watching my exciting evenings curled up with a good book and a glass—or three—of wine.

I was happy to have a boring life, but I wasn’t as happy about this uneasy feeling that followed me everywhere except inside Steel City Elementary.

School was my sanctuary, the same way it was back when I was in elementary school.

And middle school. And even high school.

Inside the walls of the learning institution I felt safe.

I felt like I belonged. Inside those walls nobody would make fun of me for loving books, for being excited to learn.

Or the dirty clothes I wore because Dad was too busy to worry about things like a trip to the laundromat.

I tried to be the teacher that I needed back then for my students, the teacher I eventually found in sixth grade. I was their self-appointed protector even if they didn’t know they needed protection yet.

I felt it again. The weight of a gaze on me. I stopped and looked around the school parking lot, seeing nothing.

“I’m losing it,” I muttered to myself, and laughed, hoping that whoever was watching would be scared off by the crazy woman talking to herself.

With a more genuine smile on my face, I walked into the silent halls of Steel City Elementary. It was a new school day, and despite the rose I found on my windshield last Friday—which was a bit odd—I was looking forward to another day of teaching the future generation.

I straightened my classroom and prepared my lessons for the day, including all the tools the kids would need to learn to the best of their ability.

I loved my class, and I loved my students.

At this age they were so eager to learn, and more than that, most of them were hungry to share their newly learned facts with anyone who would listen.

At nine they all piled into the classroom and settled into their assigned seats, big smiles on their faces as they tried hard to look more mature than their eight- and nine-year-old selves.

“Good morning, class.”

“Good morning,” a few of the boys shouted as loud as they could.

“Mornin’,” a few more grumbled, clearly still half asleep.

“Good morning, Miss Bronson.” Dani Kane sat at the front of the class with her hands folded neatly on top of the desk. She sat beside the window rather than front and center, and I had a feeling there was a reason for that, one I hoped to learn before the year was over.

“Good morning, Miss Bronson,” Krissy, a mean girl in training, mocked Dani.

“That’s enough, Krissy.” My tone was firmer than usual, but she needed to understand I wouldn’t tolerate that kind of behavior.

“Yes, Miss Bronson,” she grunted under her breath.

We started the day with math, then moved on to English and penmanship. The day moved smoothly, and even with a few disruptions, my smile never faltered. “Okay, kids, it’s time for recess.”

They darted out of the classroom, everyone except Dani, who stayed planted in her seat as if her little behind was glued to it. “Miss Bronson?”

“Yes, Dani?” I smiled at her tentative tone. She was incredibly smart, but so painfully shy when it came to the class at large.

“Do you think Peter’s parents ignored him because they didn’t like him?” Her golden-brown eyes swam with uncertainty and that ever-present worry. She nibbled her bottom lip as she waited for an answer.

“No, honey.” I sat in the desk beside her and scooted until we were face to face. “I think his parents were just busy and tired, and they figured Peter didn’t need as much attention as Fudge.”

“But he did,” she insisted.

“Of course he did, and I can’t wait to hear what you think when you finish the book.”

She flashed a sheepish smile. “Thanks, Miss Bronson. Can I stay here for recess?”

“Of course.”

“Hey, Dani, finally made a friend?” It was Krissy again, and her two little minions.

Dani’s nostrils flared and her hands balled into fists as her face reddened. But just as quickly as her anger bubbled up, she shoved it back down. “Hey, Krissy, did you finally learn to read?”

Krissy narrowed her gaze in Dani’s direction before she marched off in embarrassed silence.

“She’s annoying,” Dani offered in a small, still polite voice.

“That’s a life lesson, not everyone is wonderful.” It was a lesson I’d learned too young. There would always be people you didn’t like in this world, and how you dealt with them was the only thing you could control.

“You’re not mad?”

“Me? Of course not. Sometimes you have to stand up for yourself just to show people there are consequences to messing with you.” It might not be the best advice, but it was exactly the right advice in the moment.

Later that afternoon during art class, Krissy and her cronies were at it again, teasing Dani. “She doesn’t even have a mom!” She cackled with laughter, perfectly fitting a cartoon villain.

Poor Dani. The little girl was frozen in place, like a deer caught in headlights. Her hands were balled into tight fists and her skin had gone pale. Small beads of sweat popped up along her hairline and I instantly knew what was happening.

“Krissy,” I snapped. “Go to the principal’s office. Right now.”

“But—” she began to argue.

“No, I don’t want to hear it. Go. Now.” I didn’t relish kicking a student out of my class, but she’d gone too far. As soon as she was gone, I turned my attention back to Dani. “Come with me.” I took her hand and guided her out of the classroom and into the teachers’ lounge.

“I’m fine,” she insisted, her voice small and quiet. “I promise. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize, just breathe.” I inhaled and exhaled slowly until she followed along. “That’s it, just breathe.” My heart clenched for the pain she was clearly in and the steel spine she was determined to exhibit in the face of it. “You’re good.”

“I’m a freak.”

“No! You’re not a freak, you are someone who has panic attacks. Just like me and millions of other people.”

Her eyes rounded. “You too?”

“Yep, since I was about your age. It happens even now, but it’s totally manageable, so you are absolutely not a freak. Got it?”

She offered a watery smile. “Got it.”

The bell sounded and I knew soon enough the lounge would be filled with teachers in need of a break from their energetic students.

“Come on.” We returned to the classroom, and I watched Dani as she wandered around in the room, staring at the self-portraits, landscape drawings, and motivational sayings pinned to the walls.

“My mom is dead,” she began softly. “Everyone says she was crazy. They talk about her when I’m not supposed to be listening, but I hear them. Sometimes I wonder if I’m like her.”

That was heartbreaking. “I’m sorry about your mom. I lost my mom when I was very young too and it never gets easier. Some days I wonder if I’m remembering her right.”

“I don’t remember her at all,” she admitted.

“But I have Callie and Charlie. That’s my nanny and the housekeeper, they take care of me,” she informed me with a small smile that didn’t reach her eyes.

“My dad is really busy, but…” she crossed the room and stopped just a foot from me, “I don’t think he likes me very much. ”

I thought of my own father. “I just met you and I like you, so I’m sure your father adores you.” I hoped he did, then again, I remembered having a neglectful father. I knew my dad loved me, but the ache in his heart from losing Mom blotted out everything else. “Grief hits people in strange ways.”

“Maybe.”

Damn, this little girl was breaking my heart. “Trust me. When I found out I got the job here, I wanted to call my mom. Then I remembered and I was sad all over again.”

The recess bell rang, and it was time for my heart-to-heart with Dani Kane to end. But as soon as the last bell rang, I turned on my laptop and emailed Mr. Kane. I didn’t know the man since he didn’t pick Dani up from school, but it was time for a face-to-face meeting.