Despite the fact that it was eight days til Christmas, Monday morning was mild enough for Emma to walk the twenty minutes through downtown to Frederick Elementary School. She’d been excited about that when she first realized it was in the mid-forties, because the closeness of her grandmother’s house—her house, now—to work was one of the many reasons Emma loved living there. But then her thoughts had resurrected what’d happened Saturday night.
The man jumping out of the bushes. Grabbing her. Pushing his body against her. Kicking her dog as his grip on her wrist tightened.
The flashes of those memories had come at her all weekend, distracting her, making her nervous, keeping her awake.
And almost making her drive to school.
Screw that, she thought as she passed the convenience store that marked the halfway point of her walk. She was not going to allow fear to rule her life. At least, not as much as she could help it. So, she’d walked.
Without question, Caine had helped make her less fearful, too. Because while the locksmith had changed out the locks on her front and back doors, Caine had shared that he worked in security, and asked if she wanted him to check out her place for other things she might do to secure it.
Remembering how easily he’d picked the lock to her front door, she’d agreed. He’d methodically gone through her first floor evaluating her doors and windows, and then examined her back porch and the basement door, too. She’d been disappointed when the locksmith’s arrival had interrupted getting to talk more to Caine over a meal, but watching him move through her space had not been a hardship. He just had an intensity about him that was compelling. Maybe it was the way those strange pale eyes narrowed in cold calculation. Or maybe it was the almost stealthy way he moved, like a big cat that was at once both graceful and lethal. Or maybe it was the slivers of tattoos that his movements had revealed on his neck and side. All she knew was that she was fascinated. And curious. And, if her nighttime thoughts were any indication, more than a little lustful…
When he’d finished looking everything over that night, Emma became the proud owner of three new jimmy-proof deadbolts and spring-loaded security bars on the three first-floor windows that could be reached from the ground or back porch.
Except then Caine had left. He’d turned down her invitation to stay to eat, saying only, “Remember, Emma, you gotta look out for yourself first.”
Crossing the last intersection before entering school grounds, Emma sighed. Because she hadn’t been brave enough in that moment to ask for his phone number. So now she didn’t know how to get ahold of him, and suspected he wouldn’t want her to, anyway.
Thankfully, she’d soon have twenty-three really good distractions from all of that. Because nothing put her in a better mood or helped her gain perspective better than her kids.
Inside, the building was still quiet. Because she hadn’t been able to sleep, she’d gotten ready earlier than usual. But at least she’d get a head start on the day. She’d have about forty-five minutes before the kids started arriving, which would be just enough time to set up all the art supplies for the holiday crafts she was having them start on today. Pom-pom Christmas trees, snowmen, and menorahs. Little presents for their parents. Because nothing said festive like fuzzy pom-poms!
“Good morning, Connie,” she called, leaning into the principal’s office.
“Morning, Emma. Getting a jump on the week?” Connie was the school’s often miracle-working office manager, and Emma really liked the older lady. But she hated how the word “jump” brought more of those little flashes of memory.
“Yep,” Emma said. “One more week.”
Connie laughed. “Hang in there.”
Grinning, Emma nodded. It was the last week of school before winter break, and without question, the kids would be bouncing off the walls by Friday. “You, too.” A few of the other teachers were also in early, and Emma called out more greetings as she moved through school to the kindergarten hallway, where four kindergarten classrooms shared a wing at the back of the building.
Flicking on her classroom lights, Emma made for her desk. She frowned.
The room was unusually chilly.
And then she froze in place.
Papers and books were scattered across the floor near her desk…the top of which was all disorganized. Her gaze tracked to the left, where broken glass littered the top shelf of the low bookcases under the windows.
The window above was broken. A cobweb of cracks formed outward from a hole in the center of one of the big rectangular panes.
Emma’s heart tripped into a sprint. She moved closer and saw what had made the hole.
A brick lay in pieces on the tile floor amid a trail of broken glass and strewn papers.
“Holy shit,” Emma whispered. “What the hell?”
Disbelievingly, she dumped her coat and purse onto the nearest table. And then she made for the intercom box on the wall by the back door. She pressed the button. “Connie, it’s Emma. Is Principal Mackey in yet?”
“She just arrived. Is everything okay?”
“No. My room… There’s been vandalism. Someone threw a brick through the window.” Emma wondered if the shakiness in her voice carried through the intercom.
“Oh, my goodness. We’ll be right there.”
True to her word, Connie and Principal Mackey arrived in under three minutes, mirror expressions of concern on their faces.
Wearing a smart pantsuit, the principal shook her head as she took in the damage. “Well, this isn’t the way to start off a Monday morning, is it?”
“No,” Emma said, still a little stunned. And man if she wasn’t having a streak of bad luck lately. “No, it’s not.”
“All right,” the principal said. “Connie, can you get Mr. Wilkerson in here to clean up and do what he can to cover the window? And I’ll call the police. They won’t be able to do much, of course, but I’ll need them to file the report.”
Her words reminded Emma of what Caine had said about reporting her mugger, and it set off a sharp pang in her chest. Of helplessness—and of anger, too.
“I’ll get Mr. Wilkerson right now,” Connie said, threading her way back through the classroom. “I’m so sorry, Emma.”
She nodded and hugged herself against the chill in the air. “Thanks.”
Principal Mackey placed a manicured brown hand on her arm. “You okay?”
“Yeah, yes. Of course. Just surprised. And worried that it might upset the kids.” Emma supposed there was a teachable moment in this mess somewhere. Maybe she could use it as a good segue for talking to the students about the importance of caring for property that belongs to another person or the school. “I should email the parents to let them know in case the kids come home with questions.” Entirely likely, since kids this age were little question machines.
Principal Mackey nodded. “Maybe we can get the school resource officer to come over from the high school and pop in to say hi to the classes.” All the high schools in the county had an SRO, and the middle schools shared two officers, but the elementary schools didn’t have them yet.
“That might be good, too,” Emma said just as the janitor arrived, pushing a cart of tools and supplies. “Oh, good morning, Mr. Wilkerson.”
“Miss Kerry, Principal Mackey,” he said, his gaze going to the window. “I’ll get this all fixed right up.”
“Thank you,” Emma said. She blew out a long breath, needing to shake off the adrenaline running through her veins before the kids arrived. She didn’t want to do anything or behave in any way that might make them worry, and children were incredibly intuitive and empathetic.
Mr. Wilkerson made for the window, then stared up at it with his hands on his hips. “Mind if I move these books and bins so I can stand on this shelf?”
“Oh, no. Of course not. Let me clear some space,” she said, crossing the room.
The man shook his head. “No, ma’am. Everything’s covered with glass. I wouldn’t want you to get cut.”
She smiled. He always called her “ma’am” even though he couldn’t have been that much older than her twenty-seven, and that made her think of teasing Caine about calling her lady. But as Mr. Wilkerson cleared away her things and climbed up on the bookcase, Emma didn’t have time to think of the intriguing mystery that was her savior from the other night. Instead, she watched as Mr. Wilkerson cut a piece of plastic off a roll and began to duct tape a rectangle over the breach.
He was new this school year, and in addition to the attention he paid to his janitorial duties, he’d taken on a number of handyman projects around the school that everyone appreciated. Repairing a section of ductwork to the heating and cooling system that improved climate control in the whole kindergarten wing. Fixing windows around the school that didn’t close securely and which let in cold air or rain. Finishing the installation of the new Smart Board system the school received so that all the boards would be mounted before the first day of classes. He’d even volunteered to hang the cute puppets she’d found in an antique shop from her classroom ceiling for her. He always went above and beyond. This morning, she really appreciated that.
Emma collected her things off the floor. A stack of artwork she needed to add to the folders students took home every Tuesday and coloring and game sheets she’d copied for this week.
“Ow,” she said as something nicked the pad of her middle finger. She lifted the splayed-out pages to find a dagger of glass beneath.
“Are you all right?” Mr. Wilkerson was at her side in an instant. “Let me clean this up,” he said. “I’ll return everything to your desk, but let me get the glass up before you do anything more.”
“I’m fine. I thought I was being careful,” she said, sucking the stinging cut into her mouth.
“Let me take care of, uh, of all this for you.”
“You’re a lifesaver, Mr. Wilkerson. Has anyone told you that today?” She retrieved a bandage from her desk drawer.
“You’re the first,” he said, smiling shyly.
“Well, I bet I won’t be the last. Okay, I’m officially leaving all this to you.” Especially since it was going to be even more important to have the art supplies all ready for the kids. Maintaining normalcy would be important today.
For them and for her. Because geez.
Soon, the kids started arriving. Emma had been right—they were a great distraction from her less-than-stellar mood. Of course, they immediately noticed the window and asked a million questions, and were already bouncing off the wall over the impending winter break. She loved every bit of it.
And those fuzzy pom-poms? They were a huge hit.
Just as they were cleaning up from art, their fuzzy trees, snowmen, and menorahs all laid out to dry, Emma spied Principal Mackey waving to her from outside her door. “Okay, girls and boys. Finish cleaning your areas, wash your hands, and take your seats, please,” Emma said before stepping outside her room.
“Miss Kerry,” Principal Mackey said, “this is Sheriff Martin. He’s filing the report about the vandalism and wanted to speak with you and say hello to your class.”
“Hello, Sheriff,” Emma said.
Sheriff’s hat in hand, the brown-haired man nodded. “Miss Kerry, this shouldn’t take long. I walked outside this whole side of the building and there’s nothing to indicate who might’ve done the vandalism. But could you describe to me what you saw and when?”
Emma recounted everything that’d happened after she’d turned on her classroom lights, but honestly, there wasn’t much to tell.
The man took a few notes in a small flip pad as she spoke, then tucked it away. “Like I told Principal Mackey, we can have extra patrols ride through school grounds at nights and on the weekends. But it was probably just some kids from the neighborhood. Unfortunately, this kind of thing happens.”
“I know,” Emma said, her belly giving a weird flip.
He frowned and studied her face. “You sure you’re okay, ma’am?”
She nodded and glanced in her window, where the kids’ escalating volume indicated that they were getting restless without her. “Yes,” Emma said absentmindedly. “I’m just a little on edge because I got mugged on Saturday night and it’s left me a little jittery.”
“Oh, Emma,” Principal Mackey said. “I’m so sorry. What happened?”
She blinked, realizing that she’d just dropped that news out of nowhere. “I was walking home from the store when a man jumped out from behind some bushes and grabbed my purse. Another man saw him and chased him off.”
“Did you report this?” Sheriff Martin asked.
Heat infused Emma’s cheeks. “No. The mugger was wearing a mask and the man who helped me didn’t think the police would be able to do much since I couldn’t offer any identifying information.”
The sheriff’s frown deepened, and his expression made her feel guilty and not a little stupid for not having called the police. “Truth is, he’s not entirely wrong. But it’s still in your interest to file the report. Get it on record. For when we do catch him. And have us step up patrols in the area in the meantime.”
“I’m sorry I didn’t do it. I was just stunned that it’d happened at all.” She glanced into the classroom again. “I’m sorry, Sheriff, do you have everything you need?”
“Yes.” He handed her a business card. “If you want to follow up about the mugging, give me a call. I hope you will.”
Emma accepted the card, and made a mental note to call him after dismissal. She supposed she’d better at least dot her I’s and cross her T’s on this. “Thank you. Now, would you like to say hello? I know the kids would love to meet you.”
He grinned and nodded. “Absolutely.”
She led him in and introduced him, and the kids were immediately enthralled by his uniform, hat, and badge. He kept things light-hearted as he spoke to them about the police working to keep the community safe and inviting them to always feel like they can talk to a police officer, and then he left them with a big stack of crime dog McGruff and Faux Paw techno cat cyber safety stickers.
After that, Emma determined to move on from all the worrisome weirdness of the past few days. Something that was even easier to do when a couple of the other teachers invited her out for a girls’ night dinner that evening. With no real family to speak of, the community at Frederick Elementary had become a kind of substitute family for her, and they’d clearly known exactly what she needed.
Thankfully, she didn’t need to tell them everything that’d happened in the past few days because she’d told enough people over lunch in the teacher’s room that the story had made its way through the whole faculty. But when a family walked through the front door of their favorite Italian place—the man wearing the same denim-and-black-leather jacket that Caine had—Emma couldn’t help but wonder what her friends would think of Caine.
Over a big plate of pasta, Emma asked, “What do you all know about that motorcycle club in town?” Her gaze cut to where the family was sitting in the far corner of the restaurant. A dark-haired man, a blond-haired woman, and two boys, probably about first and fifth graders if she were to guess.
“The Raven Riders?” Alison Bard asked in a low voice. Two years older than Emma, she taught one of the other kindergarten sections and had been a mentor and friend since Emma’s first day six years before. “They run the race track outside of town. Green Valley. I’ve been to a few of the races there before.”
Catalin Mendoza, their newest kindergarten teacher, nodded. “Me, too. I heard that they provide protective services for people in bad situations. I don’t know how that works though. Why?”
Emma twirled her fork in her pasta and recalled Caine talking about working in security. Was that possibly what he’d meant? “The man that tried to stop the mugging belongs to that club.”
Her friends’ eyes went wide. “Wait,” Catalin said. “Are you telling me that you were saved by a biker and we’re just hearing that detail?”
Smirking, Emma nodded. “It wasn’t really pertinent to the story.”
Catalin looked like she might swallow her tongue, and glanced at Alison to see if she was as aghast. “Is she serious right now?”
Alison laughed and nodded. “Leave it to you to leave out the best detail, Em. So tell us about your biker.”
Her biker. As if. She shrugged. “He was…I don’t know…” Emma struggled to think of a description that would do the man any justice.
“She’s speechless,” Alison said, chuckling.
Catalin’s brown eyes were wide as saucers. “She’s totally speechless.”
Emma couldn’t help but laugh. “No, no. It’s just that he’s unlike anyone I’ve ever met before. Tall, dark, and intimidating on the outside, but then he had this kinda killer dry humor and was really sweet to me.”
Her friends traded a look, and then Catalin said, “When are you going to see him again?”
Shaking her head, Emma swallowed a bite of her noodles. “I didn’t get his number.”
“Em!” Alison said.
“I could go ask that guy,” Cat said in a total deadpan as she thumbed toward where the other Raven sat with his family.
“Don’t you dare,” Emma said, chuckling—and realizing how much lighter she felt after hanging out with her friends. Even if their teasing was at her expense. And it didn’t hurt that she’d followed up with Sheriff Martin after school and filed a report on her mugging. “I can’t thank you enough for taking me out tonight. I needed to shake off this funk.”
“Always,” Alison said. “You know that.”
Catalin nodded. “I agree, but I was only half joking about asking that guy.”
Emma made a face she hoped communicated that she would have to kill her if she made a move toward that Raven.
Shrugging, Catalin grabbed a piece of Italian bread from the basket. “Suit yourself. But if you have a way of tracking down Mr. Tall, Dark, Sweet, and Intimidating, why wouldn’t you?”
It was a question still rattling around in her brain as sleep eluded her again that night. And it ensured that, when she did finally nod off, Caine’s icy-blue stare starred in all her dreams.