Warning Signs (Love Inspired Suspense) (3 page)

“I think you should take that tour now,” she signed with pinched lips. Nick’s about-face out of the room made it clear the person in charge around here was Miriam Hunter. Her authoritative expression reminded Owen of his own adolescence spent in the principal’s office.

But he had to wonder if her bravado was a cover-up for the fear he’d witnessed when she’d received that call. He hadn’t missed the pasty hue that had marred her smooth complexion. Miriam Hunter feared someone or something. But why keep it from the police?

Unless she worried alerting them would bring something else to light.

Owen followed Nick and Wes and watched them take a left out into the hall. As Owen passed by the secretary’s desk, he called out, “Give me a second, guys.” He approached the desk. “Stephanie, right?”

“Yup. Can I help you?”

“Do you have a notepad I could use?”

“Sure.” She pulled a pen from behind her multi-ringed ear and a notepad from her drawer. “Here you go.”

Owen scrawled out a message for Ms. Hunter on the notepad and tore it off. The note included his cell phone number as well as an invitation to meet later to discuss how they could work together on the case. Buddying up might get her to open up, even if they had to spend the night writing everything down.

He stepped to the open door of her office. She had her back to him. Her folded arms pulled the back of her pale blue suit coat tight. She faced the window, looking out at the distant horizon of endless water beyond the rows of the fiery foliage. For a moment, her profile came into view. He could see her worrying on her lower lip.

Knocking would do nothing to alert her to his presence. Again he wondered how a deaf person qualified for a job such as this, and he thought of the prank call he’d witnessed. It very well could have been someone who thought her disability inhibited her from doing an adequate job.

Owen thought of his son and of his future limitations because of his deafness. Owen had to agree with the prank caller. He couldn’t see how Ms. Hunter could perform her duties adequately. She obviously had the ability to fool a lot of people to get her position.

He stepped to her side, causing her to flinch. For a split second, Owen caught a glimpse of fear in her eyes. It retreated as quickly as the tide, leaving nothing but sparkles of wonder behind.

He’d never seen anyone so expressive before. She gave an elegant tilt of her head and an encouraging smile, and he could tell she was asking him what he wanted, even though she said not a word.

Owen handed her the paper, at a loss for words himself. A full smile blossomed on her face as she read the note. He wasn’t expecting to see such joy—or to undergo the effects it seemed to have on him. His invite wasn’t meant to make her happy, but for some reason he was glad it did.

A slender hand reached out toward him with graceful fluidity. It took him a second to realize she meant to touch him. Her hand landed with a slight squeeze on the arms he crossed at his chest. So much for a barrier. Alarm bells rang through his mind. Her touch felt like a branding iron leaving its mark on him. Owen belonged to no one. He couldn’t. Not anymore.

He stepped back and gestured to the note. “Tonight,” he said clearly, demanding that she read his lips and his body language.

She nodded as her countenance slipped to the same stunned look she’d had when she’d received the crank call. Good. She read him loud and clear. Let’s hope she didn’t forget it so easily.

Unlike Owen who could feel himself forgetting his punishment with each expressive thought she displayed on her upturned face. Her pale beauty and endearing freckles sprinkled across her cheeks made him think of sandy beaches on summer days. Her gray eyes washed over him with each cleansing bat of her lashes fooling him into thinking his sins could be washed away so easily.

Owen headed for the exit with quick steps. Speed became critical. He needed to close this case and get off this island before the charmingly beautiful principal made him forget his reason for being there.

Before Miriam Hunter made him forget his punishment permanently.

* * *

Lord, have you sent Owen Matthews to help me get to the bottom of the drug issue, or is he here to make me leave, too?

Perhaps she would have figured out by now who had placed the bag of marijuana on her desk if it weren’t for people trying to scare her away. She felt the edges of her lips bend down and pressed them hard to rein in her emotions. Regardless of what the islanders thought, she cared about these kids and this school. And even this town.

Miriam straightened, breathing deeply. And whether they liked it or not, she wasn’t leaving.

Not even for her dark-haired rescuer.

Miriam reread Agent Matthews’s note. He wanted to work together. The idea of the two of them working side by side conjured up romantic images of late-night dinner meetings.

Stop it! This is serious,
she told herself.

She blinked hard to get her mind back on track. Agent Matthews wanted to meet tonight. Should she cook? Or should they go to a more public place? The topic of discussion needed to be kept private from overhearing ears.

Miriam had an overwhelming urge to make her lemon chicken dish. She’d wanted to serve that since she’d come to the island. The thought of having her first guest elicited a spark of excitement. Of course, she never thought it would take this long, or that the first guest to sit at her table would be a DEA agent.

And a very handsome one at that.

Her hand still tingled where she’d laid it on his forearm. The sensation had surprised her, but it was the yearning to touch him again that really threw her. Maybe working together wasn’t such a good idea after all.
I should do this on my own. I can’t be losing my focus whenever Agent Matthews shows up. I might as well pack my bags and buy a ticket for the next ferry.

Not willing to give up just yet, Miriam opened her top desk drawer and tossed the note in with the three other notes she’d recently received. She noticed how they were all written on yellow legal paper.

Agent Matthews’s note didn’t tell her to leave the island like the others, but she wondered if they all came from the same pad...and the same desk.

Stephanie’s desk.

Miriam instantly disregarded that idea. Most likely every teacher in the building had oodles of these pads lying on their desks for someone to tear a sheet from. Following this line of reasoning sure wouldn’t identify her threatening pen pal anytime soon.

Miriam reached for a student’s file from the top of the pile on her desk. She’d been poring over any and all documented details about each student’s past and home life that might point her in some direction.

Name: Colin Steady

Age: 16

Address: 285 Bluff Point

Parent/Guardian: Sam and Vera Steady

Miriam read through the past teachers’ reports on Colin. All favorable descriptions of a boy who’d never had a detention and made himself at home on the honor roll. Always willing to lend a hand to teachers and help peers in their learning.

In other words, the dream student.

Miriam closed the file and moved on to the next.

Name: Deanna Williams

Wait.
Miriam slapped the file closed. She’d been reading them in alphabetical order and knew of at least one student whose surname began with a
T.

Ben Thibodaux aka Troublemaker.

She rustled through the remaining files. The final four of the full high school enrollment total of fifty-two. She checked her notes, counting the number she’d already explored.

Forty-seven.

I’m missing a file.
Miriam hit the buzzer on her intercom for Stephanie. When her secretary failed to appear in the doorway, Miriam went in search of her.

She approached Stephanie’s unmanned desk; the girl’s opened diet cola had been left behind. The clock above the entry door read 3:40 p.m. Stephanie didn’t usually leave until four o’clock, so she still had another twenty minutes to go. Miriam saw her secretary’s coat hanging on the coat rack beside her own and Nick’s. She was still in the building.

The girl had probably taken a bathroom break. Miriam decided to check the file cabinet and skirted around the desk to the cabinets lined up on the wall. She pulled the heavy metal drawer wide and flipped through each file, starting back with the
A
’s until she reached the end of the line with the
S
’s. The rest were on her desk, all except for Ben Thibodaux’s.

A quick glance on Stephanie’s desktop showed no sign of it there, either. Her gaze drifted to the cabinet beside Stephanie’s desk. Her secretary considered it her personal drawer, so Miriam didn’t want to open it, out of respect.

After another five minutes, Miriam walked to the hallway and peered down the empty expanse toward the faculty restroom.

She always carried a notepad and pen in her pocket in case Nick wasn’t with her and she needed to write something down to a person. She patted her right suit pocket to be sure the items were there and struck off down the empty hall.

Miriam reached the bathroom marked Faculty Women. Knocking would serve no purpose, so she pushed the door and entered, letting it swing closed behind her. The room contained two stalls, one of which was closed.

Mariam refused to speak. She hated speaking. She hated not knowing what she sounded like. She hated the looks people gave her when she tried. There had been a time when her mother and teachers had urged her to speak, even forced her to, but no one could force her now.

She crossed the yellow-tiled floor to the stall door and pushed on it. It opened easily. Empty. Stephanie wasn’t in there, after all.

Miriam headed back to the door. She curled her hand around the cool metal handle and pulled.

It didn’t budge.

She shook the handle a few times, wrenching it toward her, but no matter how much muscle she put into the pull, the door stayed shut.

Is it locked?
But the door didn’t lock on its own. It had to be locked with a physical key. A key that Stephanie kept on her desk. Had Stephanie locked the door for the night, thinking no one was in there? Wouldn’t she have checked first to make sure?

Miriam pounded on the door. If Stephanie was still out in the hall maybe she would hear the banging and come back. Miriam fisted her hands and kept up the banging.

Please hear it, Stephanie, please!
Miriam’s words were only in her head. But in the next moment, the lights went out, and Miriam opened her mouth to speak aloud.

It was now necessary.

She hoped she was getting the words out correctly and loud enough for someone to hear. Her fists pounded harder. She fumbled in the pitch blackness for the door handle and yanked again and again. She banged and yelled some more. She banged through throbbing hands. She banged until they were numb. Someone had to still be there. Someone had to walk by sooner or later. If she let up, they would never know she was in there.

She pressed her cheek to the cool wood, feeling her drubbing vibrations pick up speed to a level of thrashing. Her heart rate joined the pace until sweat drenched her and she couldn’t stand on her feet any longer. Her pounding weakened and slowed as her strength fizzled. She had no idea how long she’d been in there. It felt like at least an hour. Everyone was surely gone by now. Slowly she turned her back to the door and slid down to the floor.

Where was her dark-haired rescuer now? Probably down at the pier having dinner with one of the pretty local girls, laughing over something that wasn’t even funny and making friends with people who could understand him.

Someone
not
like her. The freak, as Mother always said.

Miriam touched her face with pulsing hands and felt hot wet streaks of tears. She vaguely wondered when she had started crying as she stared off into the black room. She accepted she would be spending the night locked in this dark room as though she were ten years old again and being taught a lesson. And like all those other times of punishment, Miriam wasn’t sure what she had done wrong this time to be locked away, once again isolated into a cold, dark world, when all she ever wanted was to find a home.

She closed her eyes, preferring the darkness behind her lids to the darkness around her. It gave her a sense of control in a situation where two of her senses were lost. Her hands moved by memory, calling on her heavenly Father as she had all those times of punishment in her mother’s home. And once at her grandmother’s when she’d come to Stepping Stones to visit with her mother.

That had been the worst darkness ever. So much so that Miriam, to this day, tried to block the horrifying images out, never wanting to relive the terror of that room in her grandmother’s basement again. With its damp dirt floor and salty, musty air, it had been so much scarier than the closet at home. Her chest tightened. Pain ripped through her lungs from the remembrance. Images that could only have been the workings of her wild imagination still haunted her.

A woman with bulging eyes. A man’s hand grabbing at her.

No one had been in that room with her. Mother had told her she’d made it all up. But if that was the case, why did it feel so real? So real that even though she now lived in her grandmother’s house, she still refused to enter that room. It was locked, and it would stay locked forever.

Breathe,
she told herself.
I’m not there now. I’m in a bathroom at school. Nothing scary here. Please, God, find me.
She leaned back and called on her true rescuer—the only one who could find her in the darkest of places.

THREE

T
he radio at Wes’s belt chirped out a code that referenced a disturbance at the docks. “That’s my cue to hightail it out of here.” He headed for the classroom door. “I’ll call you tonight to go over the plans for the impromptu locker searches tomorrow.” He stopped in the doorway. “Oh, and Owen? Thanks for not being too mad at me for leaving out the fact that Ms. Hunter is deaf. I was afraid you wouldn’t come if you knew. I know it’s a tough topic for you...with your son and all.”

Owen glanced up from his chair behind the teacher’s desk. He could see that Wes was worried. “I’m over it.” He hoped he sounded convincing and picked up the English class syllabus to change the subject. “Besides, the fact that Ms. Hunter gave me this intense of a class when I’m supposed to be investigating only makes me think you might be right about her. If the signing duo’s guilty, their secret won’t last for long.”

Wes relaxed with a grin. “Great. I knew calling you was the right thing to do. Good to be catching the bad guys with you again, buddy. See you tomorrow.”

Owen jerked his head as a goodbye, but his attention was fully absorbed by the syllabus still in his hands.
It might as well be Greek.
He let the paper flutter to the desk. How was he ever going to teach this class? Why couldn’t he be a substitute gym teacher or maybe a lunch aide?

He picked up a copy of the book the students were presently reading.
The Sonnets of William Shakespeare.
He hadn’t been kidding earlier when he’d made that remark to Ms. Hunter about understanding Shakespeare. Apparently the jokes were on him now. He shouldn’t be surprised she’d put him in this class. She was probably in her office now, laughing about it with her lackey.

Owen fanned through the paperback book, noting the number of poems that raced by on the flipping pages. “There’s over a hundred of them. How am I going to pull this off?” he said, wondering if teachers could tuck cheat sheets up their sleeves. He made a mental note to make some tonight. He had to appear as if he knew what he was talking about, if for no other reason than to put the laugh back on Ms. Hunter.

After folding the syllabus, he stuffed it into the book and stood from his hopefully very temporary desk. He slipped the book in his back jeans pocket and hit the lights to the classroom.

The hall lights were all off except for red emergency lighting that lit up the corridors like a runway. He followed them back, turning at the corner of his wing into the main hall. The office door was sealed shut at the end of the long stretch. Had everyone gone home and left him there without as much as a goodbye?

What about his note to Ms. Hunter? Had she stood him up? All right, maybe stood up was the wrong phrase. That sounded too datelike, and a date was the furthest thing from his calendar.

He glanced at his watch; the red hue made it hard to read the little hand on the six. Through the glass entry doors, the last rays of sun filtered in, casting shadows on the walls and floor at the end of the hallway. Miriam Hunter and her sidekick were probably having dinner without him right now, thinking up ways to make his job harder. As if things couldn’t get any harder than finding a drug supplier while teaching English.

Owen made his way to the exit. He didn’t have a key yet, but he knew the doors would lock as soon as they closed. A jingling sound came from behind him. His rubber soles squeaked on the tile and echoed through the long empty hallway. He circled around, an ear tuned for the sound again. Something metal, if he wasn’t mistaken.

“Hello?” he called down the hall. “Anyone here?”

Nothing.

His hand went to his back for his concealed weapon. With his gun at his side, he took a silent step. His eyes darted to each closed classroom door. Anyone could be behind any of them. Any student could have hidden out after dismissal, waiting for an opportunity to make a drop or to get something in or out of the school while no one was there to see.

A door clicked behind him. Owen whipped around. The sight of Nick unlocking the entrance doors from the outside had Owen releasing his breath and reholstering his Glock.

Nick stepped inside, but didn’t notice Owen standing halfway down the hallway. Owen cleared his throat to make his presence known. With a gasp, Nick grabbed at his chest in surprise. “Oh, man, you nearly gave me a heart attack. What are you still doing here?”

“Sorry.” Owen walked toward Nick. “I was on my way out, but I thought I heard something. I was checking it out.”

“It’s an old building. It’s always making weird sounds. You’ll get used to it.” Nick headed to the office and fumbled with a set of keys. When he attempted to insert a key into the doorknob, he missed the keyhole and dropped them to the floor with a clatter.

Skittish or clumsy?
Owen debated while he watched Nick bend to pick the set up and try again. “Hopefully I’m not here long enough to get used to it. But while I am here, could I get a key?”

“Oh, well, technically, I’m not authorized to hand them out. But under the circumstances, I’m sure Ms. Hunter won’t mind me giving you one.”

“Right, you’re just the interpreter,” Owen reiterated. The question Owen wanted to ask was: What else was Nick Danforth to the principal? “How can I reach Ms. Hunter? We were supposed to meet tonight. I have a few things I need to speak with her about before tomorrow.”

“I’ll give you her cell number. You can text her. Unless you happen to have a TTY machine.”

“I do,” Owen answered, but he wasn’t about to elaborate, even with the dumbfounded look that appeared on Nick’s face.

“Oh, I guess you came prepared, huh?” With a turn of the key, Nick unlocked the door and opened it in one clean movement. He flicked a wall switch and flooded the office with white fluorescent lighting, a harsh difference from the red emergency lighting in the hallway.

“I’ll wait here while you write her number down.” Owen stayed put, still wondering if someone else was in the building. He wanted to be in a place where he could observe if someone snuck out of one of the rooms.

Nick approached the secretary’s desk and opened a drawer beside it for a pad of paper and pen. “Well, I’ll give them to you, but you won’t be able to reach her right now.” Hunched over the desk, he scrawled the pen across the pad in quick movements.

Owen stood in the doorway, his arms crossed at his chest, legs spread. “Why’s that?”

Nick shrugged. “She left early tonight. She was gone after I returned from giving you the tour.” His chin jutted at the coatrack. “Her coat’s still here, but her car is gone.”

Owen cast a glance at the lightweight blue Windbreaker. She’d probably figured it was warm enough and didn’t need it tonight. But what was the rush that she didn’t even tell her interpreter she was leaving?
At least it wasn’t only me she neglected to bid adieu to.
“Is it normal for her to leave without saying goodbye?”

Nick tore the paper from the pad. “No, but the season for swimming is coming to an end. She probably wanted to get some exercise in before the sun set.”

Owen nodded once, remembering he’d found her out on the rock about this time last night. Apparently it was part of her summer routine.

“I’ll be right back with your key. Wait here.” Nick unlocked Ms. Hunter’s office and disappeared through the door. After a quick minute of sliding and slamming drawers, Nick reappeared with key and note in hand. “Here you go, Agent Matthews. I put my number on there, too, in case you need anything else. Anything at all.”

Nick seemed much friendlier than he had earlier in the day.

“Great. Thanks.” Owen turned to leave, pocketing the key and note in his jeans. “And, Nick, you should get into the habit of calling me Mr. Matthews. So you don’t blow my cover.”

Nick smacked his forehead. “Oh, man, I’m so sorry. I didn’t even think of that. Good thing I didn’t make that mistake with the kids around, huh? All right. I’ll see you tomorrow,
Mr.
Matthews.”

“Yeah, sure.” Owen inched toward the exit, thinking something didn’t feel right. Almost as if Nick was giving him the brush-off. As though he was in Nick’s way. Owen pivoted to find the guy still in the office doorway. “Out of curiosity, what brought you back here tonight?”

“I forgot something.” He thumbed over his shoulder, insinuating whatever he’d forgotten was in the office. “I’m gonna grab it and get out of here. Have a great night.”

Owen didn’t move, still not completely sure about the whole scene. “Where do you recommend eating on the island?”

“Eat? Um... The Blue Lobster on Main is great. There’s also a German restaurant if you’re into beer steins and lederhosen.”

Owen smirked, picturing Hansel and Gretel Hummel dolls. “Nah, embroidered velour isn’t my style.”

“Yeah, me neither, but the pretty little aprons the waitresses wear are something to see at least once while you’re here.”

Owen nodded. “I’ll make sure I put it on my list. See you in the morning.”

“You, too.”

Owen made it to the door and placed his hand on the metal bar to open it. As he pushed, the jingling sound he’d heard before sounded again. He scrutinized Nick over his shoulder. “Old building sound?”

Nick nodded, his face set firmly. “Old building sound.”

Owen surveyed the hallway, peering into every dark corner the red lights didn’t reach. Something did not sit right at Stepping Stones High. His hand dropped from the bar; he debated whether to check out the classrooms or to take Nick’s word.

Seriously?
He inwardly scoffed that he’d even considered the word of Nick Danforth.

Owen backed away from the bar and strode away from Nick, who in Owen’s estimation was becoming more weasel-like with each passing moment. “I’m gonna check the rooms out anyway.”

Nick scurried out of the room to come alongside Owen. “Is this really necessary?”

“Nick, I’m here to investigate a crime, so I would say yes, this is necessary.” Owen opened the first classroom to his right and flipped the light switch. A scan between desks turned up nothing.

The same for the next two classrooms.

“There’s no one here,” Nick said from behind Owen. “See? Nobody. Nada. Nothing but an empty school.” Nick’s voice rose an octave with each word.

To alert someone, perhaps? Owen eyed Nick more closely. “Why do I feel like you have something to hide?”

“I’m not hiding anything,” Nick huffed, and exited the classroom. He went to the next room and opened it himself. He continued to expose room after room, flicking lights on to prove his innocence. “Like I said, no one is here.”

Owen had to agree, but that didn’t mean he wouldn’t be digging a little more into who Nick Danforth was and where he’d come from. But for tonight, Owen had exhausted his search, and there was nothing left but to go home and continue his investigation in the morning.

They walked back down the hall, classrooms closed up tight once again. “What time do you arrive in the morning?” Owen asked.

“I get here at seven. Ms. Hunter is usually here— Hey, now where ya going?”

Owen had noticed a closed wooden door he hadn’t checked behind yet and he bisected Nick’s path to cut across the hall. He pushed on the door marked Faculty Women, but it didn’t budge. Locked. “Where’s the key?”

“I guess on Stephanie’s desk, but I don’t know why she locked it. The bathrooms aren’t usually—”

“Just get the key.” Owen cut off his rambling.

“Right.”

Owen gave the handle two more yanks out of impatience while waiting for Nick to return.

A thudding sound came from behind the door. Owen stumbled back in surprise. More banging alerted him to the fact that someone was on the other side. “Who’s in there?” he shouted over the rising noise.

No answer. Only more banging.

“Please, calm down and tell me who you are.” Owen turned his head and hollered down the hall. “Hurry up with the key, Nick. Someone’s locked inside.”

Nick came running out of the office, searching for the correct key on a ring of many. “Here, try this one. I think that’s it.” He thrust the keys into Owen’s hand and Owen inserted one into the lock.

With the person on the other side, he couldn’t push through as he wanted to. The person was obviously distressed. “Move back so I can open the door,” he instructed, but it didn’t help. The pounding continued. Was it a student who’d been left behind?

Owen pushed in a little, hoping the person would see the door opening and move out of the way. With the door ajar, he saw no light coming through. The poor thing was locked in the dark. He spoke through the crack. “You’re all right, but you need to let us in to help you.” He pushed a little more and suddenly the banging stopped.

Owen could now hear snippets of a voice. Little squeaks, followed by a moaning much like the one he’d heard yesterday.

Miriam.

“Miriam!” Nick said it in the same moment Owen thought it. The smaller man elbowed Owen out of the way. He succeeded, but only because Owen allowed him to pass.

With no other lighting besides the red backlight, Owen could only make out the outline of Miriam clinging on to Nick for dear life. Obviously, he was someone special she went to for comfort. He was more than an employee to her.

“Bring her out here.” He held the door open to allow Nick to guide her out of the dark. Owen walked behind them down the hallway, listening to Miriam’s sobs muffled in Nick’s shirt. Each sound squeezed his chest and built in him a need to reach for her as Nick had.

It wouldn’t take much to push Nick aside. Owen gave himself a mental shake. The direction of his thoughts confounded him. What was wrong with him?

He put himself back on the task of figuring out how Miriam had gotten locked in the bathroom in the first place. How long had she been in there? Was it Stephanie who’d locked her in? Had it been an accident? Or another, more daring, prank? And why were the lights off?

How did Miriam bear that?

Her sobs quieted to murmurs, but Owen thought perhaps she hadn’t borne it very well at all. He wondered when she’d given up hope of being found for the night, and thought of Cole and how his eight-year-old son needed to sleep with a night-light. The dark posed more than the absence of light to him. It meant he was silenced. It meant he didn’t exist anymore.