Читать книгу The Suicide Club - Gayle Wilson - Страница 8

Think we can go ahead and shut down?”

Shannon’s question caused Lindsey to look up at the scoreboard. It was nearing the end of the third quarter, which was the traditional closing time for the booth. Tonight only a handful of tickets had been sold since the half. They’d already counted up the money in both cash boxes, keeping only a few dollars out to make change.

“I don’t see why not.” The score was lopsided enough that people were beginning to eddy out of the stadium toward the parking lot. That movement was unlikely to reverse.

“Me, neither. If Coach doesn’t like it, he can get somebody else next week.”

Although the faculty members who manned the booth and the gates each game were paid minimum wage, this was mostly volunteer labor. Those who normally worked were mostly hometown products who perhaps felt a stronger loyalty to the program as a result.

The aspirin Lindsey had taken and the cooler night air had banished her headache, but not her tiredness. And although she’d been raised to finish whatever task she started, closing a few minutes early wasn’t going to break the bank.

“How much?”

The question brought her head around. Jace Nolan was standing in front of her window, opened wallet in hand.

At her hesitation, Shannon replied, “We don’t charge after the third quarter.”

Jace looked at the scoreboard and then back to Shannon. “Consider it a contribution. I’d just as soon not wait.”

“I didn’t mean you had to wait. You can just go in.”

“You sure?”

“This isn’t that much of a game.”

Shannon was obviously in flirt mode. Despite her initial dislike of the detective, Lindsey had admitted he was an attractive man. Why should she be surprised her friend had reached that same conclusion?

“So what do you do when you close?”

For the first time since he’d questioned the price of admission, the focus of those dark eyes was on Lindsey. Since it was clear to which of them the question had been addressed, Shannon kept her mouth shut, leaving it up to her to answer.

“We turn in the money and go home.”

“Not interested in watching the coup de grâce?”

“Not tonight.”

Shannon’s sneaker-clad foot made contact with the side of Lindsey’s ankle. Although she, too, might have been attracted to Jace, Shannon was smart enough to have picked up on the obvious undercurrent between them. The kick had clearly said, “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

An attractive man. A single woman on the wrong side of thirty stuck in a town this size. An invitation.

To Shannon—and to anyone else in Lindsey’s situation—that should spell “yes,” rather than such a definite “no.”

“You go on,” Shannon urged her before turning to smile at Jace. “I’ll take the money up to the press box.”

“If you aren’t interested in the game,” he said, again speaking directly to Lindsey, “maybe we could get something to eat. It’s been a long day, without any chance to grab dinner.”

For her, too. She’d spent the couple of hours between the end of school and her duties at the game lying down while she waited for the aspirin to work its magic. Because of her headache, she hadn’t eaten much lunch.

Apparently Shannon sensed the weakening of her resolve. “Friday night special at The Cove is hard to beat.”

“The Cove?” Jace’s gaze swung back to her.

“Out on the highway,” Shannon said helpfully. “One of our better restaurants. Who am I kidding? It’s the only decent food within thirty miles. And Lindsey’s favorite.”

“I appreciate the information. Ms. Sloan?”

Avoiding Shannon’s eyes, she met Jace’s instead. They were amused. And slightly challenging.

“I’m not dressed for The Cove.”

“On a ballgame night?” Shannon asked. “Honey, you’ll fit right in.” Her tone implied, And you damn well know it.

“You look fine to me,” Jace said.

The dialogue—the entire scenario—was so hokey, it was humiliating. And becoming more so by the second.

“Look—”

“Dinner,” Jace said. “No tour guiding involved.”

A reference to their conversation outside the gym this afternoon. At least Shannon had sense enough to keep her mouth shut, despite her almost palpable curiosity.

“Then…dinner.”

Why the hell had she agreed? Had she lost her mind? The man wanted to prove that one of her students was a criminal.

And if that were true? Wouldn’t she—and everyone else in this town—want to know?

“You sure you don’t mind closing up by yourself, Ms…?”

“Anderson. Shannon Anderson. I don’t mind. It’s a matter of walking up the stadium steps and handing in the cash at the press box.”

“You have a security escort?”

“Uh…Not in Randolph,” Shannon said with a laugh. “Everybody in the stadium knows what we’re doing. Believe me, nobody’s gonna try to make off with the money.”

“Then if you’re ready, Ms. Sloan.”

“Lindsey.” Again she wondered if she’d lost her mind.

“Lindsey.”

Sitcom dialogue. She looked at Shannon, daring her to laugh at the silliness of it. Surprisingly, her friend was looking exceptionally pleased with herself, but not amused.

“I’ll see you Monday,” Lindsey said to her.

“Y’all have fun.”

God, could this possibly get any worse? Lindsey stepped to the back of the booth and opened the door. She stood there a moment, trying to control her sense of unreality.

“Ready?” Jace had walked around to retrieve her.

“It doesn’t have to be The Cove. There are a couple of places that are nearer.”

“In a hurry to get home?”

She wasn’t. She was just a little out of her element.

Which had nothing to do with the restaurant and everything to do with the man she was going there with. The man half the town would see her with, which would inevitably create more gossip. And after the pep rally today…

“Compared to most places around here, The Cove is expensive. And likely to be crowded.”

“Then maybe if we left now…”

Jace’s suggestion was logical. To keep resisting would only make her appear more immature than she did already.

“My car’s here.”

“We can pick it up after we eat.”

On the way to where? she wondered. That had sounded as if dinner wasn’t the only thing he had in mind.

“Ready?” Once more Jace took her elbow, guiding her toward the parking lot. It was beginning to be a habit. One she discovered she was in no hurry to have him break.

“Jace. That’s an unusual name,” Lindsey said. “I don’t think I’ve ever heard it before.”

Since he’d made this same explanation dozens of times, Jace didn’t even have to think about what to say. “Probably because my family made it up.”

They were headed out of the restaurant, where the food had been as good as advertised. Not his preferred style of cuisine, but definitely eatable. Which was more than he could say about some of the meals he’d had down here.

“Made it up?”

“My great-grandfather was James Christian Nolan. He was called James. My grandfather was James Christian Nolan, the second. Jimmy. They called my dad Trey, because he was the third. When I came along, somebody got the bright idea of calling me J.C., which became Jacey when I was a toddler. At some point, that got shortened to Jace. By the time I started to school, I thought that was my name.”

“Sounds like a story someone around here might tell.”

“What does that mean?” he asked opening the car door for her. He waited as she slid into the passenger seat.

“The whole name thing. We’re big on family down here. It just…I don’t know. It sounded…Southern.”

“Yeah. Well, I don’t think my family would qualify as Southern by any stretch, but for what it’s worth, we’re big on family, too.” He returned her smile, but the ease they’d found over the meal—talking about everything from football to food—seemed to have evaporated into the same sense of awkwardness that had marred the drive over from the stadium.

Jace closed the door and walked around the front of the car, trying to decide if it was worth doing what he’d planned. Probably better to play it by ear and see how she reacted.

He opened the driver’s side door and slid in behind the wheel. As he inserted the key into the ignition, Lindsey turned to look at him. He met her eyes, his questioning.

“Thank you for dinner.”

“My pleasure.” It had been, Jace acknowledged.

Once the initial awkwardness had dissipated, he’d found her easy to talk to. Of course, he’d avoided the subject he knew would set off all her defense mechanisms. That wasn’t something he could continue to do, not if he was going to get any of the information he believed Lindsey Sloan could provide. If she wanted to.

Decision made, he put the car into reverse. When he reached the highway, instead of turning back the way they’d come, he headed in the opposite direction. As if on cue, Lindsey offered the protest he’d been expecting.

“This isn’t the way to the stadium.”

She didn’t sound alarmed. It was more as if she thought that he, as a newcomer, might be confused about the location.

“I wanted to show you something.”

“Look—”

“Relax. Your virtue’s safe with me.”

He was no longer entirely sure of that. His original intent in asking to meet Ms. Sloan that day had been strictly business. He’d never expected to be attracted to a teacher.

Auburn hair should mean at least a few freckles. Instead, flawless ivory skin overlay a classically beautiful bone structure. The copper-colored eyes were open and direct.

So why the hell was she available on a Friday night? And, judging by her friend’s eagerness to push her to come with him tonight, most other nights as well?

“It’s been a long week,” she said, her voice no longer relaxed. “I enjoyed dinner, but I’d really appreciate it if you’d take me back to my car.”

“This won’t take five minutes. We’re almost there.”

He knew that as soon as he turned off the highway and onto the two-lane road, she’d recognize their destination. He could imagine her reaction.

Still, this had been the purpose of the entire exercise. He wasn’t about to let the fact that the prelude leading up to the main event had been enjoyable keep him from doing his job.

She didn’t bother to argue, which he also liked. In his experience, it was a rare woman who knew when to keep her mouth shut. The silence lasted exactly as long as he’d anticipated it would.

“I’ve seen the church,” she said flatly.

“I’m sure everyone around here has. I just need to check on something.”

“If this is intended to make me more willing to concede the possibility—”

“It doesn’t matter to me whether you believe what I told you or not. Your opinion isn’t going to change the course of the investigation.”

She turned her head away, looking rigidly out the side window as he pulled into the unpaved area in front of the ruin. He couldn’t tell if she was studying the burned-out shell or if she simply couldn’t stand to look at him.

He stopped the car directly in front of the church, turning off the engine. After a moment the headlights went out. Gradually, in the moonlight, what remained of the church was silhouetted against the lesser darkness behind it.

“Walk with me.”

Without waiting for her agreement, Jace opened his door and climbed out of the car. The sound of its closing echoed through the stillness of the clearing.

He headed toward the ruin, not looking back to see if she was following. Finally—and with a sense of relief—he heard her open and then close her door. Her footsteps made no noise in the soft dirt, but when he turned his head, she was beside him, her gaze focused on the building.

After a moment, she looked up at him. “It’s tragic, and I hate more than you can imagine that it happened. For the people who went to church here and for the rest of us. But I don’t know anything that can help you find out who did this.”

“You may not know that you know.”

“I’ve thought a lot this week about what you said. I looked at every kid who came through my classroom and wondered. And after all that, the answer I came up with isn’t any different from the one I gave you on Tuesday. I don’t believe any of my kids was involved.” She turned to look at the ruin again. “I don’t believe any of them are capable of this kind of…I don’t know. Senseless destruction.”

Except Jace knew it hadn’t been. It had been premeditated and deliberate and very carefully thought out.

That wasn’t what the media had suggested with their spur-of-the-moment copycat theory. At that point he’d seen no reason to correct their impression.

He still didn’t. He had just wanted the people involved to be aware that as far as he was concerned, this wasn’t over.

“Maybe…Maybe they’re through with it,” she went on. “You said they were after the adrenaline rush, but maybe all the attention scared them away.”

“The only thing scaring them away is irregularly spaced patrols of all the other isolated churches in the area.”

“Then why don’t they go somewhere else? There are plenty of places in this part of the state—”

She stopped abruptly, making it obvious she’d made one of the connections he had hoped she would. He didn’t say anything, preferring to let her work it out herself.

She turned to look at him again, the perfect oval of her face revealed by the moonlight. “They have a curfew.”

“And somebody who waits up for them. Maybe even somebody who checks the mileage on the car they drive.”

“The fires are on the weekend because they aren’t allowed out on a school night,” she said, continuing to put it together. “That’s why you’re convinced they’re students.”

It wasn’t the only reason, but it appeared to be enough to make her buy in to the theory that the task force had devised. Once she did, he should be able to use her to get into the heads of her students.

Just as he’d used plenty of other people to succeed at what he did. He’d misled them. Tricked them. Any cop who said he’d never done those things was a liar. They all did them on occasion because it worked. And because it served the ends they sought. The right ends. Justice.

“They’re probably out there tonight,” he said. “Driving around. Thinking about what they could do instead of this.”

“They haven’t done anything since the last one.”

Seven weeks. Or rather seven weekends. They’d all waited, diligently patrolling any spot that was particularly vulnerable. And Lindsey was right. Nothing had happened.

“That doesn’t mean they’re through.”

“You don’t know that.”

“I know about the rush. I know it’s addictive.”

“Is that what made you a detective? The rush?”

Maybe it had. Maybe that’s what had kept him at this job when any sane person would have moved on to something else. Anything else. Instead of doing that, he’d come here—a south Alabama county as alien to him as the face of the moon.

At least he was doing something constructive with his addiction, he thought, pulling his mind away from people and places he couldn’t bear to remember. All these punks were doing was destroying. And he knew in his gut, as strongly as he’d ever known anything, that whoever or whatever they were, they weren’t through with their destruction.