Читать книгу One Major Distraction - Linda Winstead Jones - Страница 8

“That looks good,” Benning said, flashing one of those charming smiles men used when they thought they were being, well, charming. “Did you make it yourself?”

Tess shook her head. “No. Mary Jo made the meatloaf.” Mary Jo stood at the head of the line, passing out salad. She was a very nice, bone-thin grandmother who had a room next to Tess’s but was only there during the week. On the weekends, she stayed with her son and grandkids who lived in town, and came in to work for a few hours each day.

Mary Jo and Tess were the only full-time cafeteria employees, and the only ones who worked the supper shift. They were especially busy in the evenings, which meant that she did not have time to entertain the new guy, or anyone else.

“Oh.” The big man who had parked himself in front of her looked almost disappointed. “What did you make?”

“You’re holding up the line,” she snapped.

“So answer my question and I’ll move on.”

“I made the scalloped potatoes and the apple pie,” Tess said through clenched teeth.

“They both look great.” Benning did his best to lean over the counter. He was so darn big he could almost do just that. “So, why don’t you have a date for Valentine’s Day?”

His bold question startled her. It crossed the line between friendly and flirting, and to be honest she didn’t have time for either. Finally Tess answered, “What makes you think I don’t have a late date?”

“Do you?”

With a wave of her hand, she shooed him down the line. “I’d like to get these girls fed, if you don’t mind.”

He grudgingly moved along, muttering something about her late date, and Tess turned her attention to the kids who were waiting in line for their supper. Not all the students lived on campus, but those who did were in this cafeteria for three meals a day. They were good girls, for the most part, and she liked her job more than she’d ever imagined she would. Some days it took her back to her own days in school. She’d been so naive, just like so many of these girls. But it had been a special time, one she remembered with fondness, for the most part.

Thirteen-year-old Laura came along just minutes behind Benning. She and her friend Bev were the last students in line, as usual, and for them Tess had a wide and real smile.

“Cute top,” Tess said, nodding to the striped sweater Laura wore.

“Thanks.” Laura squirmed as if the compliment made her uncomfortable. “My dad sent it to me last week.”

“It looks nice and warm, and that green is your color.”

Laura wrinkled her nose. She definitely did not like talking about herself.

“And Bev, you look fabulous in blue. It brings out your eyes.”

Bev gave in to an odd sort of smile, but it didn’t last.

“I saw you talking to Mr. Benning,” Laura said. “Do you like him, or something?”

“No,” Tess answered precisely. “I do not like him. In fact, the man really gets on my nerves.”

“He gets on my nerves, too,” Laura said.

“He’s a little scary,” Bev said in a low voice Tess had to strain to hear.

“He doesn’t do things the way Mr. Hill did,” Laura said in a slightly louder voice. The changes in her history class obviously upset her. Laura didn’t like change. And at thirteen, everything was changing, or soon would.

“Maybe Mr. Hill will have a quick recovery and be back in class before you know it,” Tess said optimistically.

“I hope so,” Laura said as she continued down the line.

“Me, too,” Bev said, cutting her eyes to Tess and trying that uncertain smile once again.

Tess’s smile died as the girls headed for a table in the dining hall. Laura and Bev were both awkward, but then they were at an awkward age. Neither of the girls thought they were pretty, but they would be, as soon as they grew into themselves and gained some confidence. She saw them glance at the table where the more popular girls sat, giggling and whispering and posing. They were either older than Laura and Bev, or else they had matured at an earlier age. There was no awkwardness at that table of pretty, self-assured girls.

Tess often found herself trying to help the girls in this school, above and beyond the duties of a cook. So many of them had been shuffled off because their parents didn’t have time for them, or because divorce had split up the family and boarding school seemed a safe and easy alternative. They all came from money, or else they wouldn’t be here; that new sweater Laura was wearing probably cost more than a week’s salary for Tess.

“More?”

Tess’s head snapped around to find that Flynn Benning was back and offering his plate for a refill of scalloped potatoes. The fact that he’d surprised her counted against him. Had he noticed her staring at Laura and Bev?

No, he was much too self-absorbed to notice any such thing. That grin of his was wicked and just short of smarmy. If he winked at her, she was going to throw the potatoes at him. How would he look wearing his second helping? He didn’t wink, and she scooped up enough scalloped potatoes for four men his size and slopped them into his plate with a twist of her wrist. “How’s that?”

“Thank you,” he said. “There’s just something extra special about these potatoes. I’m not sure what it is.”

Tess rolled her eyes and turned away, but not before she caught a glimpse of something unexpected in Benning’s blue eyes.

Suspicion.

He was a good judge of character, he trusted his instincts, and something about Tess Stafford raised more than one alarm. She was too savvy to be working as a cafeteria cook, server and dishwasher in a private school. In his day they had been called lunchroom ladies, and none of them had looked anything like Tess Stafford. She didn’t make much money here, the living quarters left a lot to be desired and making heart-shaped cookies for little girls and teachers might be fulfilling in some basic womanly way, but it definitely wasn’t challenging.

Not for the first time, Flynn wondered what the hell he was doing here. Only for Max would he put himself in this situation. Sadie Harlow—Sadie McCain, now, Flynn reminded himself—would be perfect for this assignment. It would be much easier for her to work her way into the closed circle of women employees without rousing suspicion. But Sadie had gone and gotten herself pregnant, and for some reason her husband, Truman McCain, had a problem with letting her hunt down murdering thieves in her current condition. Flynn almost snorted just thinking about it. He’d never imagined that anyone could forbid Sadie to do anything. Just as well. If she was here and pregnant, he’d have to worry about her himself. Besides, anything Sadie could do, he could do. How much of a challenge could Tess Stafford, who made heart-shaped cookies and served up three meals a day, be?

Tess was presently wiping down tables in a deserted dining hall. The students and the teachers who lived on campus had all headed for their dorms, and the other woman who worked in the cafeteria had retired for the night. Stafford was lost in thought as she wiped down a table where some of the messier girls had eaten supper.

“Need any help?”

Her head snapped up at his softly spoken question, and she stopped wiping. “What do you want?”

He shrugged his shoulders. “There’s not much to do in my room. I thought I’d help you out here so you can get to your late date. We wouldn’t want you to be tardy.”

She started scrubbing again, harder this time. “Okay, let’s get something straight, Mr. Benning. Just because I work in an all-girls’ school, doesn’t mean I’m desperate for a man to come along and charm me out of my orthopedic shoes. I’m not desperate for anything. I’m not looking for a man, and if I were it wouldn’t be you because you’re not my type.”

“Does that mean there’s no late date?”

“No,” she finally admitted, “there’s no late date. Not only that, I don’t want a date, late or otherwise.”

Tess Stafford was pretty and she knew how to stand up for herself, and she was also angry. A man was the cause, most likely. Wasn’t that always the story? It was like some sad country song. A good-for-nothing fella had broken her heart and stolen her life savings, and run off in the night with her dog and her pickup truck.

Charming her was going to be more difficult than he’d imagined.

“Okay, you don’t want a date, you don’t need a man. How about a friend? Got more of those than you need?”

Tess stopped wiping, but kept her eyes on the table. Had he touched a chord with her? Anger just beneath the surface aside, she seemed to be a nice person. The others who worked here liked her, but she didn’t let anyone get too close. He could see that from here. Hell, he’d seen it at first glance.

“You can start by calling me Flynn,” he said. “I get enough Mr. Benning during the day. Usually like this.” He raised his hand and waggled his fingers, “Mr. Benning, Mr. Benning, Mr. Benning.”

He saw the start of a reluctant smile. It just barely turned up the corners of Tess’s nicely wide mouth. “Kids can be relentless.” She began wiping again, slower this time.

“Tell me about it,” he said, leaning against the doorjamb and watching her work. Relaxed this way, she was very pretty. Very out of place in this stark room. “I’ll make you a deal. I’ll help you clean, and then over leftover apple pie and some of your fabulous coffee, you can tell me all about the other people who work here. It’s tough being the new guy in town.”

She lifted her head and looked him square in the eye, as if trying to judge his intentions. “Sure,” she finally said. “Why not?”

Tess told herself that if she could figure out why Flynn Benning was so curious, if she could reassure herself that his being here had nothing to do with her, it would be worth spending a little extra time in his company.

Over coffee and apple pie, they started an awkward conversation. She had never been one to make friends easily, and he didn’t strike her as the gregarious type. Confident, yes. Gregarious, never.

She told Flynn what she knew of some of the teachers he’d be working alongside, general information that he could have gotten anywhere, and he listened carefully. Maybe too carefully, for someone who was a sub who wouldn’t be here very long. He was either way too interested in the goings-on at the Frances Teague Academy, or else he was way too interested in her.

“You’ll only be working here until Scott Hill is better, right?” she asked.

“That’s right.”

“Where do you usually teach?”

It was a perfectly natural question to ask a new teacher, but it looked as if he bristled a little. “I used to teach at a military school south of Atlanta.”

Military school. That she could see. The size, the bearing, the way he took charge of a room just by walking through the door. Military. “What happened?” she asked. “Why aren’t you teaching there this year?”

For a moment, she thought he wasn’t going to answer. His shoulders squared, his spine straightened, and those eyes…the blue was almost electric.

“A new administrator comes in and decides she wants things done her way,” he finally said. “We were supposed to be sensitive and new-agey and it was all crap.”

Tess smiled, she could see it so well. “You told her so in just those words, didn’t you?”

“Yeah,” he answered, visibly calmer and almost sheepish. “Now here I am teaching at an all-girls school, which is ironic, I suppose. I look at some of these girls the wrong way, and I swear they’re about to burst into tears. I don’t do tears.”

She laughed out loud, surprising him and herself.

“It’s not funny,” he said, almost seriously.

“It is, actually,” she answered.

“Well, I probably won’t be here more than a couple of weeks. That’s what I was told, anyway. If I can get through this assignment without making any of the little girls cry, I’ll be fine.”

Well, crap. She liked him. The fact that he would stand up to an administrator who wanted to run things in a way he didn’t care for was one thing. But he was actually worried about making little girls cry. There was something unexpected about that, coming from a big man who was undeniably gruff.

Her pie was gone, her coffee cup almost empty. She’d told Flynn everything she could think of, about the faculty and staff he’d be dealing with in his time here. And she wasn’t quite ready to leave. Evenings were the toughest part of the day, for her. Alone in her apartment above stairs, the hours went by too slowly, and her imagination ran wild. She thought about getting caught, about losing everything she’d worked for.

But this was nice. She liked Benning, he apparently liked her, and even though it could never go anywhere it was nice to have someone to talk to. A friend, he said.

“So, Flynn. That’s an unusual name. Is it a family name?”

He grunted slightly and took a big bite of pie. The last bite. She waited patiently while he finished it off with a swig of black coffee. “Not a family name,” he finally said. “As a matter of fact, I was suppose to be named John William Benning III, but my mother had other ideas.”

“So, where does the Flynn come from?”

He pushed his plate and cup aside and leaned onto the table. He’d rolled his sleeves up, displaying utterly masculine forearms. She really, really wanted to touch them, just for a moment, but of course she didn’t.

“That’s enough about me,” he said. “What’s a woman like you doing working in a cafeteria? You’re smart, you’re pretty, you’re energetic and everyone likes you. So, why aren’t you married and raising a half dozen kids, or running a corporation, or teaching home economics or…”

Tess’s smile died. The man was way too curious about her. She grabbed the dirty dishes and stood, keeping her gaze on the last little bit of coffee that was left in the bottom of Flynn’s mug. “It’s getting late,” she said. “And I have to be up early in the morning to make biscuits.”

“I didn’t mean to—”

“You didn’t do anything,” she interrupted. “I just didn’t realize how late it was. The time got away from me.”

A very large, very warm hand shot out and gripped her wrist, and for a moment she was frozen. Flynn’s fingers were like a warm, soft vise. An unexpected electricity worked through her body. It had been a long time since she’d allowed any man to touch her, even in such a simple way.

It was so stupid, to stand here and imagine what it would be like to lay her fingers on that hard forearm, or fix the little crinkle in his collar, or run her palm against his short, fair hair. There wasn’t time for any of that in her life…not today, and not tomorrow. Maybe never.

“I’m sorry,” he said, letting his hand fall away. “I didn’t mean to push. Friends don’t push.”

Maybe he would be smart and not push now, as she hurried toward the kitchen. “I’ll see you in the morning,” she called back without looking over her shoulder. “Do me a favor and make sure the door is locked when you leave?”

“Sure,” he said softly as he left the dining hall. “I’ll double check to be certain the building is secure.”

Somehow that assurance made her feel a little better, even as she climbed the stairs to her little apartment.

Flynn didn’t rush back to his quarters in the men’s dormitory. The night was cold, the air downright icy, and yet the chill didn’t bother him at all.

Tess Stafford didn’t belong here, not in the cafeteria, anyway. She was hiding something, and he wanted to know what it was. Was she a natural blonde who hid her true colors under auburn hair color? Could someone who lied so badly be Austin? Could someone who didn’t dare look a man in the eye while she made a hasty escape kill a man for a painting and a handful of very nice jewelry? Could a woman who trembled at the innocent touch of a hand on her wrist be here planning another crime?

He didn’t think so, and Dr. Barber’s argument that she had no need to break into the building where she lived was valid enough. But until Lucky came back with a report that cleared her, he compared her fingerprints to Austin’s and he got hold of a strand of hair to compare to the one taken from the scene of the crime in Texas, Tess Stafford would remain on Flynn’s list of suspects. He couldn’t take her off the list just because he—unexpectedly and against his better judgment—wanted to sleep with her.

Tess might not be Austin, but she was hiding something. Something big. Something that kept her here.

There was to be a meeting in his room at ten o’clock—fifteen minutes—and he didn’t feel compelled to hurry. Instead he looked around, studying the darkened buildings where classes would resume in the morning and the dormitories where students and female teachers were either already asleep or getting ready for bed. Some of them would be asleep by now, he imagined. The windows that were still lit up were probably rooms of the teachers and the older girls.

He hadn’t been lying when he’d told Tess that he was terrified of making the girls cry. Most everything else had been pure fabrication. The military school, the background that had been manufactured for this assignment, it was all false. But he was truly terrified of coming face-to-face with a sobbing teenage girl.

His own little girl would be fourteen, if she’d lived. Denise would be thirty-eight. There were days when it seemed like ages ago that he’d buried his wife and daughter, and there were other days when it seemed like yesterday. His job didn’t normally require him to face his past. He’d grieved, and then he’d moved on as best he could. He hadn’t forgotten, but he had relegated that long-ago pain to a safe and remote place. These past two days had brought it all a little closer than he cared for. All these little girls reminded him too sharply of the one he’d lost.

All the more reason to find Austin and get out of here ASAP.

Cal and Murphy were right on time for the meeting, but Dante was running late. Flynn was in no mood for waiting, but he hated having to do anything twice. The three of them made themselves comfortable, Cal and Murphy on the couch, Flynn in a sagging chair.

Cal thought Leon Toller was just a sad, weird little man who didn’t have many friends because he spent most of his time in his own world. He was divorced, no surprise, and had three boys he didn’t see very often. That matched the info they had on him, so far. Cal had snagged a porcelain doodad from the man’s class, and it was already on the way to Max for fingerprint comparison.

While Cal was talking Murphy kept rubbing his cheek, until Flynn finally snapped. “What’s wrong with your face?”

“Stephanie gave me a facial. My skin feels different. It’s smooth.”

Cal started to laugh, then noted that Flynn was not amused and went silent.

“A facial,” Flynn repeated in a low voice.

“Yeah. It’s the only way I could, you know…”

“Get into her pants?” Cal asked when Murphy faltered.

“No,” Murphy said. “She’s not that kind of girl. She’s very passionate about her English classes and this line of makeup and skin-care products she sells. Most of it’s all natural. The makeup, not the English classes. She gave me a sample of a skin cream for men. It smells pretty good.”

“You are a metrosexual,” Cal said.

Murphy muttered beneath his breath, “I still don’t know what that means.”

Dante arrived, to Flynn’s great relief, slightly red-faced and not his usual cool self.

“Where the hell have you been?” Flynn asked.

Dante walked into the room, but didn’t sit. Instead, he paced. “The math teacher is a freak.”

Cal and Murphy both leaned forward, unduly interested. “In what way?” Cal asked. “She has six toes on one foot? She used to work at a sideshow as the bearded lady? What?”

“Not a freak in a bad way,” Dante said. “She’s aggressive. She knows what she wants and she goes for it. Man, does she go for it. I thought math teachers were supposed to be shy and repressed, but not Serena Loomis. No, there’s nothing repressed about her. Man, I’m sorry I’m late, but I didn’t think she was going to let me go.”

“You’ve been in her room all this time?” Murphy asked.

Dante shook his head. “No. She was afraid one of the students would see me going to her room, or leaving. There’s a gardener’s shed out back, so we went there. If Austin is a man, it’s not Serena Loomis. She’s, uh, also not blond. Natural brunette.”

Flynn leaned back in his chair, on edge and impatient. “Murphy is a woman and Mangino got laid,” he said sharply. “Did we manage to gather any other useful information tonight?”

A breathless Dante nodded his head. “Maybe. Serena mentioned that there’s a parents’ weekend coming up in two weeks,” he said. “Considering how much it costs to attend this school, we have to look at every parent who’s going to be here that weekend as a potential target. Maybe what Austin wants to steal isn’t here, but will be. He took jewels before.”

“Killed for ’em,” Cal added.

Dante dismissed his momentous evening and turned his attention to the matter at hand. “We’re talking about a one-day event, which means anything of value will be in the possession of a parent. That means we’re looking at armed robbery, not simple theft.”

With that bit of information, the mood in the room changed. Back to business; they didn’t have time to spare.

Flynn nodded to Murphy. “I’ll need a list of all those parents. Dr. Barber will cooperate, I’m sure, but she has been less than thorough.” First Tess was left off the list of new employees, and now this. Surely she knew that the parents’ weekend would be of interest.

Then again, they hadn’t told her everything, either.

“I want to go outside the school for information, as well. I want everything.”

Murphy left the couch. “You got it.” Since their computer genius was a night owl, he’d probably have something substantial to report by morning. Cal promised to help, after he called his wife again, and Dante headed for his room, apparently for some well-deserved rest.

When they were all gone, Flynn went to the window to look over the campus. Crap. He wanted to be out of here ASAP, but this was a deadline he could do without. If he didn’t find Austin in the next two weeks, he’d have a campus brimming with potential victims. He could insist that the parents’ weekend be canceled, and Max could make it happen, but if they did that Austin would be spooked and might not resurface for years.

Besides, there was no guarantee that the target was among the parents. All they knew with any certainty was that Austin had been here.

He tried to imagine Tess Stafford planning to rob one or more of the parents, in between baking cookies and brewing coffee and giving the most inept of the girls a little extra smile and conversation. And he couldn’t make it work.

But he knew too well that didn’t mean Tess Stafford wasn’t the one he was looking for.

“Time for bed,” Truman said gently. “You need your sleep.”

Sadie looked away from the computer screen long enough to smile widely at her husband. He had always been overly protective, but now that she was pregnant he was downright possessive.

A part of her actually liked it.

“I think I found her.”

Truman cocked his head and smiled at her. Sometimes just looking at him still made her heart go thump. “She’ll still be there come morning.”

“Maybe,” Sadie muttered. Kelly Calhoun never stayed in one place very long, but she did have a tendency to come back to the South on a regular basis. “I don’t want to lose her again.”

Truman laid his hands on her shoulders and massaged lightly. “Are you going to call Cal and tell him?”

Sadie shook her head as she typed the last of the e-mail message to the private eye who’d found Kelly. Maybe. “No. I don’t want to get his hopes up and then come up empty-handed again. He’s been through that too many times.”

Her husband bent down and kissed her cheek. “You’re a good friend,” he said. “And a good wife,” His hand settled over her stomach. “And a good mother.”

Sadie smiled at the computer screen. Once she found Kelly for Cal, she was going to take some serious time off. Like maybe until the last of the kids started school. She’d never imagined she could feel this way.

“So,” Truman said, leaning against her and hanging on lightly. “Where is she this time?”

“Close,” she answered, then she finished her e-mail and glanced up. “Kelly’s back in Georgia.”