Читать книгу Secrets And Lies - Shirlee McCoy - Страница 11
ОглавлениеShe’d almost died.
Ariel couldn’t shake the thought, and she couldn’t ignore it as an EMT leaned over her cut palm, eyeing the still-bleeding wound.
“You’re going to need stitches,” the young woman said brusquely. “We can transport you to the hospital for that, or you can go to the clinic. Your call.”
“I’ll go to the clinic,” Ariel responded by rote.
If she’d died, the baby would have died. Thinking about that was worse than thinking about herself, broken and bleeding on the floor of the resource room.
She shuddered, and the EMT frowned.
“Are you sure?” she asked, her tone a little gentler. “You seem shaky, and they could check on the baby. It might give you a little peace of mind.”
Aside from the guy who’d shot at her being thrown in jail, there wasn’t much of anything that could give her that. “I’m sure.”
The woman nodded, pressing thick gauze to the wound and wrapping it with a tight layer of surgical tape. “That should hold it until you get to the clinic. Have someone drive you. Husband, family.”
“All right.” Except that Ariel didn’t have a husband and she didn’t have any family. She was making new friends at church and at work, but even after five months, they weren’t the kind of relationships she could count on in a pinch.
If the principal came to check out the damage to the school, she’d probably offer to give Ariel a ride. Pamela Moore’s daughter, Regina, had been Ariel’s best friend from kindergarten through their sophomore year of high school. They’d stayed close after Ariel had moved away, and when Regina had taken her dream job working as NICU nurse in Phoenix, Ariel had cheered her on.
Regina had been the reason Ariel had been offered the job in Desert Valley. She’d contacted her mother, pleaded Ariel’s case and gotten her an interview for a job that had opened up when another teacher had gotten married and left town.
It had seemed like a God-thing, the opportunity coming out of left field at a time when Ariel had been desperate to get away from Las Vegas and all the memories it held. She’d wanted a quiet little town to raise her daughter in. She’d wanted a safe environment where everyone knew everyone and where small crimes were considered a big deal. She’d thought that was what Desert Valley offered, all her sweet childhood memories leading her to believe the place would be perfect. Now, she wasn’t so sure.
Several Desert Valley police vehicles had pulled into the parking lot and K-9 teams were spread out across the school grounds. Ariel could see a female officer walking through the gym field, her long hair pulled back in a ponytail, a golden retriever trotting in front of her. Ellen Foxcroft. A nice young woman who everyone in town seemed to like. Her mother was a different story. Marian Foxcroft was notorious for sticking her nose in where it didn’t belong. She had money and influence in Desert Valley, and she wasn’t afraid to throw both around to get what she wanted.
Unfortunately she also had enemies. She’d been attacked a few months ago and left in a coma. It was one of the many crimes that had been taking up the front page of the town’s newspaper.
Ariel had tried not to pay much attention to the stories. She had enough stress and worry in her life. She hadn’t wanted to add to it, and she’d been afraid...so afraid that she’d made another mistake—just like the one she’d made when she’d married Mitch.
She touched her stomach, feeling almost guilty for the thought.
“Ma’am?” the EMT said. “Would you like me to call someone for you?”
“No. I’m fine.” She stood on wobbly legs and moved past the EMT just to prove that she could. Her keys were in her classroom. So were her purse and her cell phone. The house she’d bought with money her great-aunt had left her a decade ago was only two miles from the school, but walking there wasn’t an option. Not with the gunman still out there somewhere.
Had Tristan found any sign of the guy in the school? Was he okay? She’d watched him walk toward the building, and she’d wanted to caution him to be careful, because the gunman had meant business. He’d been bent on murder, and if Ariel had walked into her classroom, she’d have probably been shot before she’d even realized she was a target.
She shivered, rubbing her arms against the chill that just wouldn’t seem to leave her.
“You holding up okay?” someone asked.
She turned and found herself looking into Tristan McKeller’s dark brown eyes.
“I was just thinking about you,” she said, the words escaping before she realized how they’d sound. “What I mean—”
“Is that you were wondering if I’d found the gunman?” he offered, and she nodded.
“Yes. And if you were okay. Apparently, you are.”
“I am, but the gunman is still on the loose. We’ve got a couple of K-9 teams trying to track him. Hopefully, we’ll have him in custody soon. You said he was wearing some sort of mask?”
“It seemed like it. I only got a glimpse as he was coming out of my room.”
“Were you heading there when you noticed him?”
“I was on my way back from the Xerox machine. I’d heard a door slamming shut, and I thought it was you.” She spoke quickly, filling him in on the details and doing everything in her power to not allow emotion to seep into her voice. Breaking down in front of people wasn’t something she liked to do. Even when Mitch had screamed at her, telling her that the baby she was carrying would ruin his life, she hadn’t cried.
She finished and Tristan nodded. “Matches with what I saw. There’s a bullet slug in the corner of the wall and one through the door into the room where you were hiding. If you’d been standing in front of the door—”
“I made sure that I wasn’t.” She cut him off. She didn’t want to speculate, she didn’t want to imagine. She’d been spared. Her baby had been spared.
God looking out for them?
She wanted to believe that.
She’d been trying hard to believe that everything that had happened—all the difficulty and trouble—would turn out for the good. There were days, though, when she questioned His goodness, wondered if He’d decided to turn His face away from her.
“Smart thinking, Ariel. It saved your life.” His gaze dropped to her stomach, to the baby bump that pulled her silky summer top taut over her abdomen. “And your baby’s. I guess you decided against the ambulance ride?”
“I’ll get stitches at the clinic.” Maybe. Or maybe she’d use a couple of butterfly bandages and hope for the best. The last thing she wanted was to walk out of the local medical clinic alone after dark, and there was no way she was going to ask Principal Moore to go with her. Not when the gunman was still on the loose. What if he came after Ariel again? What if someone else was in the line of fire?
The thought made her stomach churn.
“You’re new to town,” Tristan said, the comment taking her by surprise.
“I’ve been here for a few months, and I lived here when I was a kid,” she corrected, not quite sure where he was going with the conversation.
“You were in Las Vegas prior to your move?”
“Yes.”
“And your husband—”
“He was my ex, and he died a few weeks before I accepted the job offer here.”
His expression softened, as if he realized there was a lot more to her story than anyone in town knew. “Had you been divorced long?”
“I’m not sure what that has to do with anything.”
“Most violent crimes aren’t committed by strangers. Most involve people who know each other. Is there a new relationship? A boyfriend? Ex-boyfriend? Someone who might be holding grudge?”
“Do I look like I have time for another relationship?” she asked with a laugh that she knew sounded bitter and hard.
She swallowed down the emotion, tried again. “There’s no one else. My ex-husband died three weeks after our divorce was finalized.”
“Can I ask the cause of death?”
“A car accident. He drove off a hillside and crashed into a tree. The car burst into flames on impact.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Me, too. He wasn’t a very nice guy, but no one deserves that.”
He studied her for a moment, his eyes such a dark brown the irises were nearly invisible. They reminded her of Mia’s, the lashes black and thick. Mia, though, always looked sullen. Tristan looked concerned.
“I’m sorry,” he repeated, and she tensed, not comfortable with the pity she saw in his eyes.
She didn’t need anyone to feel sorry for her. She just needed to move on with her life, make a safe home for her baby and create something out of the nothing she’d been left with when Mitch had told her they were done.
“Like I said, so am I, but there’s nothing I can do to change it. All I can do is make a good life for our child.” My child was what she’d wanted to say, but Mitch would always be part of their little girl’s life, the shadowy parent who existed as nothing more than a name, a photograph, a hole in the heart.
“It’s still tough, Ariel. There isn’t a woman on the planet who doesn’t deserve better than what you got. It’s getting late, and you need to get those stitches. How about I follow you over to the clinic? Jesse and I can escort you in and then follow you home when you’re done.” He touched his dog’s head, and the yellow lab seemed to smile, its tongue lolling out.
“I—”
“You know it’s the safest thing, right? Until we find out who this guy is and why he took a shot at you, you need to be cautious.”
She knew. She didn’t like it, but she knew.
“All right,” she conceded. “But I’d rather just go home. A couple of butterfly bandages will take care of this.”
* * *
Tristan didn’t agree with the butterfly bandage idea, but he wasn’t going to argue. Ariel knew what she wanted and after being married to a not very nice guy, she probably didn’t need anyone telling her what decisions to make.
“That’s fine. I’ll walk you into the school. You can get your things and then we’ll head out.”
“You aren’t needed here?” she asked as they headed across the parking lot.
“I was off duty when I arrived. The chief assigned the case to someone else.”
“It’s probably for the best,” she said, brushing a few strands of hair from her cheek, the bandage on her hand crisp white in the fading light.
“Why do you say that?” He led her through the front door and into a wide lobby. Posters hung from walls, announcing clubs that would be meeting again in the fall.
“Mia,” she responded. That was it. No other explanation.
“You think I should be spending more time with her?” He tried to keep defensiveness out of his voice, but he was feeling it just the way he did every time some well-meaning neighbor or church lady or school counselor pointed out that Mia needed more attention and time than what he was able to provide.
“I have no idea how much time you spend with her. I just know it can’t be easy raising a teenager. Especially one who’s been through a really difficult loss.”
She was right about that.
He’d been an only child until he was seventeen, and he knew nothing about kids or teenage girls. He was learning, but it was a slow process. One that Mia didn’t seem to have much patience for. “Mia has been through a lot. The last couple of years have been hard on both of us.”
“I know, and I have a lot of sympathy for both of you, but hard times aren’t an excuse for poor work.” She stopped short and looked straight into his eyes. He was struck by that—by the directness of her gaze, the unapologetic way she pointed out the truth.
“I’ve told her that a dozen times.”
“Probably a dozen too many. Kids like Mia need structure. They need consequences, too.”
“I hope you’re not talking about me letting her fail, because I’m not willing to do that.”
“If she doesn’t improve her grade in my class, she’s going to fail, and there’s nothing either of us can do about it.” She sighed and started walking again. “I was thinking more along the lines of grounding her until her grades come up.”
“I’ve done that. I’ve also made her come to work with me on her days off, so that I can make sure she’s not goofing off. None of it seems to matter. She still turns in shoddy assignments.”
“When she turns them in at all,” Ariel added, and he couldn’t argue the point. Mia had received zeros on her last three assignments.
“I’ve been thinking about hiring a tutor to work with her. She hates the idea.” It was the only option they hadn’t explored. He could hire someone, see if that person could help nudge Mia into focusing on school again. “She’s a smart kid. Before my parents died, she was in the gifted program.”
“I know. I saw her records. Her standardized test scores are high, too.” She stopped at the yellow police tape that blocked off one corridor of the school. “Tutoring will help, but she needs to know that people are invested in her life.”
“She’s got plenty of people invested. She just isn’t appreciative of the fact,” he muttered.
“Fourteen-year-olds seldom are.” She smiled, but her gaze was focused on the hallway beyond the tape. “I guess I should get my things,” she said quietly.
“I can get them for you,” he offered. “If you’d rather not go back to the classroom.”
“I’ll have to go back Monday, so I may as well face it now.” She lifted the police tape and shimmied under it, her advanced pregnancy not seeming to hinder her movements.
Up ahead, rookie K-9 officer James Harrison and his bloodhound, Hawk, crisscrossed the hallway, moving from side to side and back again.
“We’re moving through,” Tristan said, and James gave a brief nod, his focus on a wadded-up piece of paper that lay on the glossy tile.
“Anything interesting?” Tristan asked, and James finally looked up.
“I’m not sure. Hawk alerted here, so I’m going to process it like it is. It could have just been left behind by a kid and kicked by the gunman when he ran through.” He shrugged, his gaze shifting to Ariel. “We’ll figure it out though, and get this guy behind bars as quickly as possible.”
He was trying to reassure her, but Ariel didn’t look convinced. She looked tense, her arms crossed protectively over her stomach, her bandaged hand resting on the swell of her abdomen.
“I appreciate that,” she said. “I’ll feel a lot safer when he’s in custody.”
“Do you have any idea who it was?” James asked, opening up an evidence collection kit. He took a quick photo of the paper, then put on gloves and lifted it.
“No, but I don’t think he’s anyone I know.”
“You didn’t see his face?” James carefully opened the sheet, studying words that were scrawled across it.
“No. He was wearing a mask of some sort. I already explained everything to Officer McKeller.”
“I know it’s frustrating, but you’ll probably be explaining things to a lot of people, Ms. Martin,” James responded. “Unfortunately, that’s the way these cases usually work. Lots of questions asked over and over again. Did the chief give you permission to leave the scene?”
“She’s been cleared to go,” Tristan responded. “I’m going to escort her and make sure she arrives home safely. At this point, that’s my top priority.”
She tensed at his words, but she didn’t protest them.
“Good,” James said. “If the guy was planning this, if he found out information to help him achieve his goal, there’s no guarantee he won’t go after her somewhere else.” He held up the paper, so that Tristan could read the handwritten words.
Desert Valley High School
Room 119
Ariel Martin
They were scrawled in black ink, every i dotted with a circle. The A underlined.
Ariel took a step back, her gaze focused on the paper, her face leeched of color. Freckles dotted her nose and her cheeks, giving the impression of youth, but there was maturity in her eyes—a deep knowledge of what it meant to struggle, to suffer and to survive.
She’d been through a lot. Now she was going through more. That bothered him. It made him want to do everything in his power to keep her safe.
“Are you okay?” he asked, and she nodded.
“Yes. I...” She pressed her lips together, sealing in whatever she’d planned to say. “You’ll think I’m nuts.”
“There are a lot worse things that people can be,” he responded, and she smiled, a dimple flashing in her right cheek. She had a pretty smile, a soft one.
“True. The thing about the letter...the writing looks really familiar.”
“A student?” James suggested.
“No. My ex-husband.”
“Did you part on good terms?” James asked. “Is it possible—?”
“He’s dead.” Tristan cut in. There was no sense walking down that road. A dead man didn’t write notes. He didn’t carry a gun. He didn’t stalk his ex.
“That blows a hole in my theory, then,” James responded, carefully placing the note in an evidence bag.
“What about the writing made you think of your ex?” Tristan asked Ariel.
“Mitch always underlined the A in my name, and he always used circles to dot i’s.”
“That’s information anyone could have known,” he pointed out. “Friends, coworker, family. Most would have seen his writing at one point or another.”
“He didn’t have family. It was one of the things that brought us together. Two college students with no one.” She blushed, shook her head. “It’s an old story, and there’s no reason to tell it now. I can get you a list of Mitch’s associates, but I can’t guarantee that I know all of them. He was involved in some things I didn’t know about until after he died.”
“Affairs?” James asked bluntly, and Ariel shrugged.
“I found that out before we divorced. After he died, the police started questioning me about other things. He’d been involved in a money laundering scheme in Las Vegas and insurance fraud in Nevada and several other states. If he’d lived, he’d have been arrested.” She said it as if it didn’t matter, her face and voice devoid of emotion. It had to have hurt, though. It had to have made her doubt all the things she’d thought were true about herself and her relationships.
“I’m sorry, Ariel,” Tristan said, and she offered him that same soft pretty smile.
“So you keep saying. Sorry doesn’t change things, though, and it’s not going to help you figure out who tried to shoot me. I’m not familiar with any of the people who were involved in criminal activities with Mitch, but I can print out a list of his work associates and friends and swing it by the police department tomorrow. I may have a sample of his writing, too. If that will help.”
“It will,” Tristan said. “I’ll talk to Chief Jones and see if we can send the paper for handwriting analysis. The state crime lab should be able to process it.”
“You want me to handle that while you escort her home?” James asked.
Tristan met Ariel’s eyes. She didn’t look any less tired than she had a few minutes ago, and he thought she needed to be home more than she needed to wait around the crime scene while he did something another officer could handle. “Sure.”
“Okay,” James said. “Come on, Hawk, let’s see what else we can find.”
The bloodhound offered a quick bark in response and moved down the hall, ears brushing the ground as he moved.
Ariel must have taken that as her cue to leave. She headed down the hall, moving toward her room at a half run that Tristan didn’t think could be good for her or the baby.
But, then, what did he know?
He’d never spent much time around pregnant women. He didn’t know what the protocol was for exercise this late in a pregnancy. She was in good health and very fit. If she wanted to jog, who was he to question her? If she wanted to run away from her problems, who was he to tell her it couldn’t be done?
Obviously, the discussion about her ex had been painful. It was just as obvious that she was done talking about it.
That was fine.
For now.
He kept silent as he followed her to her room. She stopped at the yellow crime-scene tape that blocked her path. Fingerprint powder coated the doorknob and the edge of the door. More dusted the wall.
“This isn’t going to be fun on Monday,” Ariel murmured.
“We’ll have things processed and cleaned up by then.” He lifted the tape, and she walked across the threshold and straight to her desk. She grabbed her sweater, opened a drawer and took out her purse.
“You want to check to make sure everything is there?” he asked, and she opened the purse, pulling out a cell phone and a wallet.
“Credit card. Debit card. Cash.” She listed the items one at a time as she looked through the wallet. “Everything is here.”
“Keys?”
She lifted a key ring. “Here.”
“Anything else you want to grab? You may not be able to get in here tomorrow.”
“I can access lesson plans and grades online. I have what I need.” She slid into the sweater, then hitched the purse onto her shoulder. Nothing about her was fancy or overdone. Very little makeup, hair pulled into a ponytail, clothes understated. Her emotions were understated, too. No panic or tears or frantic speculating. She seemed determined to hold herself together.
That was good. It was easier to get information from people who were clearheaded. Tristan might not be working her case, but he could pick her brain, see if the ex-husband who’d died might be the key to the attack. One thing he couldn’t do was walk away and not worry about the case or Ariel. He couldn’t know for sure, but he thought that Ariel might have come to Desert Valley to escape her past and to try to create a more peaceful future. He wanted to make sure she was able to do both. He also wanted to know if the attack against her was personal.
There was a big part of him hoping that this newest trouble wasn’t related to the other crimes that had happened in town. Desert Valley PD was under pressure to solve two murders and investigate two suspicious deaths. Plus there was the attack on Marian Foxcroft, which had to be related. They’d been hunting for a killer for months and still had no suspect.
If Ariel’s shooter proved to be connected, they might have to shift their focus, stop looking for an opportunistic murderer and start looking for a serial killer.
