CHAPTER 9
“I can’t believe I let you talk me into doing this.”
Hearing Vonnie repeat the same thing she’d said at least a dozen times already, Taylor ignored her roommate and continued to set things up. She closed the blinds, shutting out the bright sun. She wished they could have tried this at night, but it was not until two this morning that she had finally felt like she had the knowledge to proceed, and Vonnie would have killed her if she’d woken her up.
“Please don’t go through with it.”
Number fifteen on that sentence.
“You know it’s never going to work.”
Number seven gajillion and four.
Taylor placed the last heavily-incensed candle on the table beside her bed, which she had moved to the middle of their dorm room. “If you’re so sure of that, then why don’t you stop fighting with me about it and help me try?”
Vonnie’s brown eyes were narrowed with worry and with annoyance. How could she argue with that? Either Taylor’s plan would succeed, or, in Vonnie’s opinion, it would certainly fail. At least if she made the effort, Taylor could tell herself she’d given this her all.
“Come on, you know you’re dying to be able to say I told you so.”
Vonnie glared. “No, I’m dying to not watch you die!”
Oh. Taylor’s teasing died from her lips. Of course Vonnie would evaluate this from all angles, but would, in the end, be most affected by personal experience. And, honestly, fear. Vonnie—so damned smart, so incredibly strong—still had her share of nightmares. So of course those fears still lingered in the back of her oh-so-brilliant brain.
Taylor was afraid, too. Not all the time, not anymore like she had been for months after their escape from a serial killer. But she still tensed when somebody walked too closely behind her, snuck up on her, or touched her when she wasn’t expecting it.
Funny, Isaac had been the one guy who’d understood. Maybe that’s what had drawn her to him when they met. During the campus tour, she’d seen him react when someone had dropped an unexpected hand on his shoulder. It’s what had opened a conversation between them, one that had carried over into their emails long afterward. Isaac hadn’t been in the grip of a serial killer—at least not by the time they met—but he’d admitted there was abuse going on at that school of his, which had made him jumpy and nervous. That was one reason Taylor simply could not let his disappearance go. Aside from feeling a connection to him, she’d simply liked the guy. A lot.
Maybe his sister and the Extrasensory Agents would be able to find out what happened to him. But if Taylor could help—by gaining her sister’s help—she was going to do it.
“I’m not going to die. I’m not going to do a single thing to put myself at risk.”
“Oh, right, nothing except throw your soul out of your body and go on a walkabout around Savannah.”
“Thought you said it wasn’t going to work.”
Vonnie came over and took Taylor’s hands. “But what if it does, T? What if by some crazy, insane twist, you do manage to, well, leave your body…and you can’t get back?”
Knowing Vonnie tried desperately to forget the paranormal elements of their rescue, Taylor knew that was a big fear for her to admit out loud. Although the other girl swore and argued that she didn’t believe in any of that paranormal “stuff” her anxiety now made it clear that somewhere deep down, she did.
Well, she wasn’t alone in the anxiety part. Taylor was doing her best not to show that her own stomach was churning. “I’ve done a lot of research.”
“Just because you read some old Lois Duncan book when you were twelve doesn’t mean you know anything about astral projection!”
Taylor rolled her eyes. She hadn’t been convinced to try this from some book she’d read when she was in middle school. “In his book, Dr. Martin says if you give yourself a centering object, it will pull you back like you’re on the end of a rubber band.”
“Dr. Martin should stick with making shoes.”
“Ha. Funny. The man’s highly respected in the field of parapsychology.”
“Then his name should be Venkman.”
Taylor growled, knowing there was no use trying to convince her friend she knew what she was doing. “Look, I’m going to try. I have to. You can stay and help, or you can leave and come back later to gloat if I fail. Either way, you can’t stop me.”
Vonnie’s big brown eyes looked wet with tears. She so seldom cried, it took Taylor by surprise. God, the last thing she wanted to do was hurt her best friend.
Throwing her arms around Vonnie, she hugged her tightly, and whispered, “I love you. I love that you care so much about me. Please, let’s stop arguing.”
Vonnie hugged her back, squeezing the breath out of her lungs. Pulling back, she looked into Taylor’s face. “I will help you if you’ll admit one thing.”
“What?”
“That this is more about finding Jenny than Isaac.”
Sucking in a breath, she hesitated, evaluating that accusation. Was it true? Was her current obsession merely an excuse to try to connect with her dead twin again?
“Maybe,” she whispered. “Maybe it is.” It was her turn to cry, and hot tears spilled from her eyes. “I never got to say goodbye, Von. I was knocked out, and I never even saw that monster…never saw what he….”
“Shh,” Vonnie said, hugging her again, smoothing Taylor’s hair. “I know, baby. I know.”
This time when they pulled apart, all the stubbornness had left her roommate’s face. Vonnie simply said, “Okay. I guess we’re doing this.”
Sam Andrews had known for months something was wrong at the Fenton Academy.
Taking the job at the start of the school year had been an act of desperation. With his wife, Shelly, having just had their second child, and no luck in the public school system since he was without tenure, the advertisement from the academy had seemed like his last hope. Being hired had been a godsend.
Now, though, he had begun to wonder if he would have been better off being a stay-at-home dad. At least then he wouldn’t have to pretend to mistreat his students, and to not give a damn about their futures. Oh, and he wouldn’t have to fool himself into thinking there wasn’t something sinister behind the disappearances of three boys this year.
Charlie MacMasters? A runaway?
He couldn’t stop thinking about what Eli had said last week—about the two main characters in Of Mice and Men. Eli was a great kid, and his analogy was pretty spot-on. Why would Charlie, big but appearing to be scared of his own shadow, run away in the dead of night? If he really had done so, what horrible thing must have driven him to it?
“It doesn’t make any sense,” he muttered, not meaning to speak out loud.
The other teachers sitting at a table with him in the faculty lounge, grabbing a meal before they went on second-lunch patrol duty, looked up in surprise that he’d broken the typical lunchtime silence.
“What doesn’t?” asked Jerry Angel, the Algebra teacher whose classroom was right beside Sam’s. Close enough that he could hear the man regularly scream at his students.
Used to being ignored by the other teachers, who he suspected thought he was too soft on the boys, Sam wasn’t sure how to reply. He certainly didn’t trust the other two teachers at the table, or the third faculty member who’d just walked in—the gruff ex-military one. The guy was big and dangerous-looking, probably a bully who included torture in his boot camp. Apparently Coach Emerson’s hadn’t been brutal enough.
Having stayed out of it this long, though, he didn’t think he could do it anymore. He couldn’t be the only one who thought there was more to the disappearances than rebellious teens running away. He hadn’t known the first two, one a senior and one a sophomore, but Charlie had been in his class, and had struck him as the type who would pull his pillow over his face at a strange noise in the night. Running into the swamp where there were snakes, alligators, bats, and insects? No way. No frigging way.
Shelly, the only person he’d talked to, had been urging him to go to the police with his suspicions. How could he do that, though, when he had no proof, or even a good theory about what was going on?
The new guy was over by the microwave, completely ignoring them, so Sam responded, keeping his voice low. “That Charlie MacMasters would run away.”
Angel sneered. “Weakling.”
The oldest member of the staff, Everett Leggett, nodded in pious agreement. “Indeed. Too weak for our school, without doubt.”
“He made it through eight months of his freshman year. Eight. Why would he run now, three weeks before school lets out and he can go home for the summer?”
“Some boys take longer to break,” Angel said with an unconcerned shrug.
“Breaking them?” Sam sneered. “Is that what we’re doing? I thought we were educating them, and trying to help them straighten up.”
“Same thing, isn’t it?” asked the history teacher with a smile that revealed crooked, yellow teeth. The man seldom smiled, probably because he looked more menacing than amused.
Steeling himself against his revulsion, knowing that was the only way he would get answers, he pushed harder. “Charlie was afraid of his own shadow. What would be bad enough here to make him sneak out in the middle of the night and run into the swamp?”
“Boys run,” a new voice said. Coach Emerson had pushed into the room, sweaty and red-faced. Although it could be because he’d come from an energetic class, Sam suspected the heavy, out-of-shape man would be gasping from walking up a flight of stairs.
“Of course they do, but this many?” Sam asked.
The door opened again. Mr. Slate, the custodian, entered, eyeing them all suspiciously, as if ready to pounce on any dropped crumb.
“You ever see the statistics on teen runaways?” Emerson grabbed a wad of paper towels and wiped his sweaty brow. “Three a year ain’t nothin’ in a school with three-hundred kids. Especially three-hundred punk kids who are bein’ told no for the first time in their spoiled lives.”
Three this year. Four last. Some in previous years, too. That’s what he’d heard from the students, anyway. He hadn’t been able to confirm that in any kind of records or reporting, and the school certainly didn’t tout its “low runaway rates” on its website. But he suspected the boys were correct. In his opinion, that was far too many.
“I didn’t find Charlie to be a punk. Just easily led and a little weak. He had to be desperate considering if he had been caught, he would have been severely punished.”
“Hello, building 13,” Angel said with a smirk.
Sam knew about the headmaster’s special punishment for the most extreme infractions, and he’d been forced to visit the hell hole as a new faculty member. One glimpse had been enough to make him vow to never report any boy who acted up in class. He preferred old-fashioned methods of discipline like essay-writing over psychological torture.
“That’d scare the sass out of any of them,” Leggett agreed.
“It scares me,” mumbled the custodian, who was obviously eavesdropping.
“Scared the shit outta me too the first time I saw it,” replied Angel, his smirk becoming a laugh. “Surprised those kids don’t come outta there white-haired.”
“Spare the rod, spoil the child,” said Slate, no longer pretending he wasn’t part of the conversation.
“Right you are, Chester,” said Leggett. He nodded hard, sending his thin hair flapping above his sun-spotted scalp. “Personally, I think some of them should be kept there for longer than one night. It would toughen them up.”
The lack of compassion these men exhibited didn’t surprise Sam, but it did disappoint him. Across the room, still with his back to them, the new guy stood extremely still. Sam wondered if he was listening. Maybe Fenton knew this latest disappearance would cause rumors and had set a spy among them. The man, Monahan, had tried to speak to him alone twice last week, which had only aroused Sam’s suspicions.
This had been the wrong time and place to bring up the subject. And the wrong people with whom to do it. There were a few other teachers and staff here who the kids seemed to like, which might be a good indication they would be safe to talk to. Angel and Leggett were loathed, almost as much as that downright evil school nurse, and the headmaster himself. If something was driving these kids to try to escape, they might not only cheer it, they might be in on it.
Lowering his eyes, he finished his sandwich, knowing it was time to shut up.
“Okay, I think we’re on deck,” said Angel, who rose and tossed his trash in the can. One piece missed. He didn’t pick it up, ignoring Slate’s mutter.
“You do enjoy these lunchtime duties, don’t you?” asked Leggett, following him. His trash actually went where it was supposed to go, but Slate still muttered.
“You bet I do.” Angel rubbed his hands together. “Want to place bets on how many kids I can get put in detention today?”
Leggett laughed. “What is your record up to these days?”
Sam slowly got up, too, following them to the door, zoning out, and wishing again that he’d said screw it and stayed home with his daughters this year. No job was worth this. Educators who truly hated their students…who would hire people like that? Only somebody like the sadistic sonofabitch who ran the place.
Angel and Leggett went out the door. Slate pushed his broom past Sam’s feet, forcing him to step aside and remain in the lounge. Emerson was now splashing water into his face at the sink—how the man hadn’t yet had a heart attack on the field, he didn’t know.
Before Sam could leave and go to the cafeteria to serve as prison guard for thirty minutes, the new guy, Monahan, caught his eye from a few feet away. He was putting his own lunch on the table, but his focus was all on Sam. The man looked like he wanted to say something. Maybe warn him that he’d better keep his mouth shut if he knew what was good for him?
“You’re not alone.”
Sam froze, his hand on the doorknob. “What?”
“Something’s going on. I see it too.” He looked over his shoulder at Emerson, whose whole head was now under the tap. Stepping closer, almost whispering, he added, “Can we go somewhere to talk privately?”
Sam’s heartbeat leapt. This was cloak-and-dagger stuff. He didn’t know this man, who had been listening. Monahan looked like a bad-ass, not a concerned teacher. Why would he want to talk to Sam? How could he have even noticed anything was going on at Fenton when he’d only been here a week?
“I’m on duty.”
“Please, Mr. Andrews. Eli says you’re one of the few teachers who gets it.”
“Eli Winston?”
“Yeah. He’s scared, with good reason.”
Emerson switched off the faucet and rose, shaking his burly head and rubbing paper towels against his wet hair.
“Please, it’s important.”
Andrews shook his head quickly, casting a glance at the coach. Then he twisted the doorknob and turned to leave. “Well, it was nice meeting you. Good luck with the boot camp.” Right before exiting, he cast a quick glance over his shoulder, whispering, “Six-thirty p.m.” That was after the camp ended. “My room. 204.”
The other man had already taken a seat at the table and was looking down at his food. His slow nod said he had heard, and that he would be there.
With one last nervous glance at Emerson, and at the new guy, Sam left the lounge and headed toward the cafeteria. He wasn’t sure if he was doing the right thing, or if he had just made the biggest mistake of his life.
Stirring the pot could mean the loss of his job. Then again, it was a shitty job, he hated it, and he had no intention of coming back here next year. So screw that.
Getting caught up in something that involved missing children could be dangerous. He had Shelly and the girls to think about. There was no way Sam could stay out of this any longer, though. Not when a kid he’d known, taught, and was certain would never have run away was involved. Financial insecurity and fear might have driven him to become exactly the kind of teacher he had sworn he would never be: Uninvolved, uncaring, and unconcerned.
That was all over now.
He only hoped he’d placed his trust in the right person, and that this new instructor wasn’t about to spy on him and then stab him in the back.
After lunch, Derek usually went to the gym to work on plans for the afternoon’s camp. Today, though, he had something else to work on: Andrews.
He couldn’t believe his good fortune at stumbling into a conversation about the very topic he was investigating. The English teacher Eli had told him about had been standoffish when they’d met last week, but today, at least, he appeared ready to talk. Before they met this evening, Derek needed to prepare.
Having spent so much time doing his fake job, and digging on Fenton, the school, the land, and the boys, he hadn’t really had a chance to dig deep into Andrews’ background. He wanted to know everything there was to know about the guy before they met.
Though he had no set schedule, Derek had still been cautious about his comings and goings, not wanting to draw attention to himself. He had wanted to come hunt for building 13 over the weekend, using Robby’s map. Unfortunately, because they were close to the end of the school year, there were field activities both Saturday and Sunday. There was no reason for him to be on campus; showing up would have made him stand out. Especially if he went skulking through the woods.
His plan B was to do it right after today’s session. Now it appeared the agreed-upon meeting with Andrews would postpone his expedition yet again. Not wanting to try to follow the ragged map in the dark, he only hoped he got to start the hunt before the sun set.
With only a couple of hours before he started his work with the boys, he knew he was going to need some help. As he walked to the parking lot where he’d left his bike, he pulled out his cell phone and called Julia’s number.
“Hey, Derek, is everything okay?”
“Fine,” he said. “I need some background on a guy named Sam Andrews. English teacher, first year here at Fenton. Can you pull it for me?”
“Sure thing.”
“I need it now if not sooner.”
“Liv’s here. We’ll get to work on it right away.”
“Great, thanks.” He got to his bike and slid on. “I don’t suppose you’ve had any luck finding old blues of the hospital?” Derek had found blueprints from the renovation of the school, but they only went back five years.
“Nope, sorry. I wish Mick was in town. Finding old stuff is his specialty.”
Yes, it was, often to Mick’s own detriment. He could touch an old object and hear the thoughts of a person who’d handled it and also handled another item he was actually seeking.
But that meant hearing the thoughts of everyone who had touched it.
“Is his cruise stopping anywhere? Maybe he could do some digging online, at least.”
“He’s on vacation.”
“Do any of us ever really get vacation time?”
“Considering how many times he has postponed his, and that I think he intends to propose to his girlfriend on this trip, I’d prefer to keep digging on my own rather than intruding.”
Huh. So Mick really had found the right one. Having met Gypsy Bell, Derek could definitely understand the attraction. Especially since she had apparently altered her own lifestyle to accommodate Mick’s hand-thing. A woman who would do that…well, it seemed as though the rich playboy really had hit the jackpot at last.
“Understood. I’m going to cruise by the guy’s house, get a feel for how he lives. Then I want to talk to Kate about her brother’s interactions with him, if there were any.”
“Kate, huh?” she said, sounding amused. “Not Dr. Harrington anymore?”
He shook his head, knowing that tone. “Back off, Julia.”
“She is very attractive. She has that Dr. Sexy thing going on.”
No shit.
“Go for it, Derek!” another voice called through the phone. Olivia was obviously listening in on the call.
“I totally would,” said Julia.
It was all he could do not to laugh. If only they knew how far he’d gone for it in that bar Friday night. He still couldn’t believe that incredibly sexy interlude with Kate had happened. He also couldn’t wait for it to happen again…after the case was solved.
“She’s our client, remember? We’re working together.”
“Ask Aidan, Olivia, and Mick how it’s gone getting involved with people they were working with.”
She made a good point. All three of his coworkers had found life partners while investigating one of the strange, dark cases Extrasensory Agents handled. Liv was even married and pregnant. None of them, though, had gotten involved with the actual client. Aidan had fallen for a reporter on the trail of a serial killer. Liv, for the Savannah detective investigating her own old kidnapping case. And Mick—playboy Mick who couldn’t touch a thing without being tormented by it—had reunited with Gypsy, a girl from the carnival where they’d grown up. Now a police chief, she’d enlisted their help figuring out who was killing carnies down in Florida.
That didn’t mean the same thing would happen for him, however. “We’ve only known each other a week and a half.”
“I’m pretty sure Aidan and Lexie moved in together at a week and a half.”
“Bullshit.”
“Well, they definitely were in love by then.”
He barked a laugh. “Love? Remember who you’re talking to?”
He’d had some relationships, but he’d never fallen in love in his life. Yeah, he was developing unexpected feelings that went beyond lust for the stunning, red-haired doctor. But love? Shit. Derek wasn’t even sure he was capable of the emotion when it came to romantic entanglements. He sure knew he shouldn’t be.
Julia literally growled at him through the phone. “Stop that, Derek Monahan. You are perfectly capable of falling in love.”
“Maybe. It’s the ‘willing’ part I’d argue.”
“Then you’re a fool.”
They’d had this argument before, and he almost reminded her she had no room to talk, considering she was having an intense, emotional affair with a dead guy. But Julia knew that. Pointing it out was mean. Julia would experience major heartache one of these days; he wasn’t about to pile on.
“Will you just do the background check for me?” he finally said.
“Sorry,” she said. “I know I need to mind my own business.”
His silence was answer enough to that.
“Okay, we’ll get to work right away. Give us an hour or two.”
That was cutting it close, since it was now twelve-thirty and boot camp started at 3. It was, however, far more than he could do on his own. “Great, thank you. Keep an eye out for any hints about old patient records, too.”
“Will do.”
Having gotten Andrews’ address from the faculty directory, he knew it was only about a twenty minute ride. He made it in fifteen. The teacher lived in a nice neighborhood on the northwest side of Savannah, with pretty, tree-lined streets. Not expensive, but not cheap, either. Neat yard, flowers in the front. The lawn backed up to a greenbelt, and he saw a swingset and a sandbox. So the guy had little kids.
It all painted a picture of a young, responsible, hard-working family of average income, living a normal life. That didn’t exactly jibe with what he knew about the staff at Fenton, but it did make him suspect Eli’s instincts were good.
Knowing Andrews had only joined the staff this year, and that he was obviously concerned about the supposed runaways, Derek had high hopes for this evening’s meeting. The teacher might not know much, but he had to know more than Derek. He also had access Derek did not—including relationships with the faculty. At the very least, he could offer his impressions. Derek only hoped he would be willing to.
Next on his list: a meetup with Kate. Stopping at a gas station on the outskirts of town, he called to see if she was available.
“I’m actually down at the Historic Savannah Foundation office,” she said once he asked her if he could swing by the hospital to talk to her.
“On York?”
“Yes. It would take me a while to get to my car and then to my office, or yours. There’s a coffee shop up the block. Why don’t you come straight there since you’re in a hurry? You could grab a bite to eat.”
Not a bad idea, considering Derek had trashed his own lunch as soon as Andrews had left the teacher’s lounge. He’d hadn’t wanted to waste time eating.
“Sounds good. Why are you there?”
“I know I can’t help on site,” she replied. “I also know you don’t have a lot of time to keep digging into the academy’s past. I thought about it this morning and figured if there was one place that might have more information than we’ve found online, it was this one.”
Great idea. He wished he’d thought of it last week. “Any luck?”
“Some. They do have old clippings about the hospital and asylum.” She sniffed in audible distaste. “I can’t make copies, but I’m sneaking pics whenever the attendant’s back is turned.”
“If you see anything resembling blueprints, grab them for me, would you?”
“Of course.”
“Heading there now.”
He gunned his engine, knowing it was another twenty minutes to downtown. Meaning it would be forty back to the school. That left him about one hour to talk to Kate and look at whatever she’d found this morning. It was doable, and, he hoped, would be worth it.
Gunning it down 515, toward Bay Street, he shaved a few minutes off the trip. He was lucky—until he neared the historic district. The area was tourist heaven. Lines of school kids streamed in and out of museums, and buses stood like caravans in the public lots. Fortunately, the coffee shop had its own small parking lot in the back. He was inside, greeting Kate, twenty-five minutes after he’d hung up from their call.
As always, when he saw the sun shining on that stunning red hair of hers, and the way the afternoon light caught the sparkles in her soft green eyes, he had to stop to remind himself how to breathe. Damn, the woman did manage to steal his breath without saying a word. Now that he’d touched her, held her, seen her face lit up with passion, he didn’t think he’d ever be able to look at her again without wanting her.
Seeing him, she waved him over to her table. Derek spotted two cups of coffee and took the seat opposite her.
“One spoonful of raw sugar, right?”
She remembered how he took his coffee. The woman paid attention. “Yeah, thanks.”
“I also ordered you a sandwich. They’ll bring it out as soon as it’s ready.”
Again Kate proved herself incredibly efficient and forward thinking. “Did you learn anything interesting this morning?”
Kate pulled an iPad out of a book-bag hanging on the side of her chair. “I got some blueprints for you. They’re not in very good shape and are really faded because they’re from the construction of the hospital more than a hundred years ago.”
Derek’s jaw dropped. He’d been looking for those damn things for a week—including stopping by the county records office one morning. She’d zeroed right in on the perfect place to find them and hit pay dirt.
He glanced at the iPad, scrolling through the images with the tip of his finger. Kate leaned over the table to look, too, which was unfortunate. Because, while he was focused on the faded images, he was also distracted by the clean, cinnamony scent of her hair, which matched that perfect deep red color, so reminiscent of fall leaves.
“I imagine they’ll be easier to look at on a bigger screen.”
“I’ll go by the office tonight and enlarge them.” Too bad Mick was away—he probably would have been able to clean them up. Damn it, was he really coming to appreciate the dude? “Did you find out anything else?”
She wrinkled her nose. “Yes. In between stints as hospital, asylum, and school, the place served as: military training camp, orphanage, and temporary jail.”
“I knew about the camp part. The rest…Jesus, let’s take the most blighted spot in the state and use it for even more awful purposes.”
“Have you ever had a case with a damned location? Do you think there are such things?”
“No. But given the stuff I have seen since starting to work with Extrasensory Agents, nothing would surprise me anymore. I met a girl last fall who could.…” He paused, remembering the fate of that girl.
Kate tilted her head, waiting.
“She could see into the future. Really see it. But only about three minutes ahead.”
“That doesn’t sound very helpful, unless it enables you avoid a mugger or something.”
Wishing he hadn’t even brought up the subject, he muttered, “Unfortunately, it didn’t help her avoid a murderer.”
Her lips parted and a low gasp emerged. Reaching across the table, she dropped her hand on his and clenched. “I’m so sorry.”
“I didn’t know her well, I only met her once. It was Mick’s case. But it was damned tragic. I heard the grief ended up killing her mother, and her younger brother disappeared.” He immediately regretted saying that, remembering who he was talking to and why she had come to them. “I mean, he intentionally left the area…”
“It’s all right, Derek,” she murmured, her lashes half-lowering to conceal her eyes.
Before he could reply, a server came over carrying two plates with Panini sandwiches that smelled better than good. Derek bit into his, watching as Kate started eating too.
After a few bites, she said, “I am also going to email you some stuff I found out about Richard Fenton.”
“From the local historical place? He’s not from Savannah.”
“No, this was from some medical sites I have access to. Message boards—doctors do gossip sometimes, too, and the family is still well known and discussed in the northeast. Did you know his mother committed suicide?”
He shook his head. “That could explain why he’s so fucking cold, especially since we’ve already established his father was a real bastard.”
“Poor little rich boy?”
“Cry me a river. Anything else?”
“Out of curiosity, I also reached out to a doctor I know in Europe. Just wanted to check out this story of a Swiss hospital for our boy Richie.”
“You are so on the ball. Can I hire you full time?”
She laughed softly. “Well, I don’t have a full-time job right now.”
“I asked Julia to get what she could from the state on the old hospital and asylum records. Now I wish I’d asked you.”
“If she needs help, I’m there. I feel pretty useless waiting around for you to call.”
“You’ve been very helpful, Kate.”
“It doesn’t feel that way, not when you’re the one putting yourself in danger every day,” she insisted, studying his face, hers expressing concern.
“It’s my job, not yours. And I’m fine. Believe me, I can take care of myself.” Remembering the primary reason he wanted to speak to her, he asked her about her brother’s relationship with Sam Andrews, if there had been one.
“I remember Isaac mentioning him once. Although my brother wasn’t in any of his classes, Mr. Andrews did run an after-school Shakespeare club.”
Derek cocked a brow. “How…normal. Whenever I hear the school does something like that, I’m surprised.”
“Don’t be too impressed. It didn’t last long. Isaac went a few times his first month of school, and then the head of the English department found a reason to discontinue it.”
Of course he did. “Did Isaac say anything about Andrews specifically?”
“Only that he liked him. He actually asked Isaac to help tutor a couple of the younger students who were struggling. He did that, every week, until he disappeared in November.”
“The more I hear about that brother of yours, the more I wish I’d met him. He sounds like a really good young man.”
She nodded, and again those lashes went down. “He is.” Shaking her head, she forced out, “I mean, he was.”
Her certainty made him ache for her, especially because, every time she repeated it, she sounded like she was trying to convince herself more than anyone else. Kate might claim she was sure her brother had been murdered. Derek suspected, however, that a tiny bit of hope she wouldn’t let herself feel was buried deep within her heart.
Seeing how luminous her eyes became, he was about to return the hand-clasping favor. Before he could do it, something at the window beside their table caught his attention. A person had stopped on the sidewalk outside the coffee shop, and was staring in. Right at him and Kate.
“Holy shit,” he muttered, staring at Eli Winston’s surprised face.
She jerked her head to follow his stare. “I’ve seen him before.”
“He’s a student at the academy,” Derek said, wondering what the odds were that he and Kate would be seen by someone from Fenton. Slim, that was sure. Having heard the school sometimes allowed their underclassmen to go on field trips at the end of the school year, he had to imagine that was what was going on here. Talk about bad luck.
Eli looked back and forth between them, his eyes almost as round as his open mouth.
“Has he ever met you?” Derek asked urgently.
“I’m not sure. I did recognize him, though. So it’s possible he might recognize me too.”
“Hell.”
Kate didn’t wait to be warned of the consequences of them being seen together. She abruptly stood and beelined toward the restrooms at the back of the café. Meanwhile, Derek gave Eli a quick, forbidding shake of the head and stared at him, hard. He didn’t want the boy’s curiosity to draw the attention of any other students, or whatever members of the faculty were chaperoning.
Eli gave him a surreptitious thumbs-up and melted into a crowd of boys walking along York Street. Seeing old Mr. Leggett, the military history teacher, Derek had to assume they were on their way to or from the Webb Military Museum.
Wanting to watch without being seen, he pushed his chair back. He was out of sight from them, but was able to keep an eye on the class as they trooped by. He recognized one or two of the kids—boys he’d seen Eli hanging around with. Right now, they had their heads together. He hoped Eli was not telling his friends what he’d just witnessed.
Derek needed to talk to the kid, as soon as possible, knowing the genie had to be put back in the bottle. He knew Eli was worried enough about Charlie MacMasters that he wouldn’t blab all over the school. But even telling a few friends that Derek was involved with the sister of another missing student would be risky. The more boys who knew, the more word could spread.
Worse, the more who knew…the more who could be in danger.