Warning Signs (Love Inspired Suspense) (6 page)

Why would he keep his knowledge of sign language from her? Why use the interpreter at all?
Oh, please, Miriam, you know exactly why. Owen was sent here to investigate you.

His hand came away from her shoulder. It should have relieved her from feeling restrained, but instead she missed its weight. It implied safety, even when the truth was he only meant to earn her trust so he could do what he’d come there to do.

Determine if she was guilty.

With her hands freed, she pushed herself up to a sitting position and raised them to speak. His charade would stop now. She would make it known she knew. “The fire department should be here soon. You should probably go to the mainland to be checked out in a hospital. All we have here is a clinic.” Her signs picked up speed, giving him no breather, but by the way no confusion crossed his face, he didn’t need it. “Do you know how the fire started?”

Owen pushed himself up on one elbow. His lips moved. He looked to be shouting, but not at her.

She whipped her head around to find Nick and Sheriff Grant approaching from the other side of the minivan. Owen had been calling out to them, not answering her. If he understood her, he wasn’t telling.

“Are you all right?” Nick signed to her while he spoke out loud to Owen.

Owen nodded with his eyes locked on her. He raised his eyebrows. Was he silently asking her if she was all right, too? Or was he asking her to keep his secret? To do so would mean being dishonest with Nick. She’d never kept anything from him.

Owen’s lips moved, and Nick resumed as her ears. “He doesn’t want to be treated,” Nick signed. “He wants the car and woods secured for inspection and the school under lockdown. He thinks there might have been a shooter.”

A shooter? He had to be mistaken. Miriam searched the tree line and turned back to Nick for more information.

But Nick stopped translating. His hands froze in midair while Owen continued speaking.

Miriam waved at Nick to continue. She hated being cut out of a conversation. Her gaze hopped between the two men, trying to read lips and get caught up. She needed to know what Owen was saying.

Nick sighed heavily. His shoulders rose and fell before his hands began to move. “You’re not going to like this,” Nick signed to her. “He says from now on, you will not be out of his sight. Day and night.”

FIVE

Y
oung faces plastered against every available window surface. The students of Stepping Stones High had probably never seen such a spectacle in all their teenage years. Nor had the seasoned teachers, either, for that matter.

Owen followed Miriam as she headed toward the building with her interpreter by her side. The weasel had sure fooled her. Owen sneered at the back of Nick’s neatly combed blond hair, each strand perfectly in place. He portrayed himself as a real wholesome boy. How much of it was a farce? Did Nick misrepresent the truth of his identity as he’d misrepresented Miriam’s words? Owen wondered what he would have to do to prove Nick’s slight to her; then he thought of how she’d withheld the knowledge of Owen’s signing capabilities from everyone, including Nick. Perhaps she had a reason not to trust Nick, either. Something to look into further for sure.

Regardless of Miriam’s reasons, though, Owen had his own. Something told him he didn’t want the deceitful interpreter knowing his signing secret just yet. Not until he could clear Nick of any wrongdoing in the case. The lying to his employer was a whole other matter. He would let her decide what to do with that tidbit on her own.

Nick reached out to hold the door for his boss. It all seemed very casual and the common way of things. Owen imagined Miriam depended on Nick for a lot more than his interpretation skills. He was sure there weren’t any other people on the island who signed. That probably made her life really lonely. If there was nothing romantic about Nick’s relationship with her, it was at least a tight friendship. Owen felt a little bad for what he was about to do.

But only a little.

The students in the hall made a path for them. Shocked and drained faces stared back at them. Someone threw out the question, “What happened?” A deluge of inquiries and comments spurted forth as the kids gained confidence to speak freely.

“What started the fire?”

“Are we in danger?”

“Can I call my mom?”

“My parents are going to flip!”

Miriam stopped, her head held high along with her hand to halt them. Owen knew she couldn’t hear them, but she must have sensed their fear and urgency. He stepped up beside her as she began to address the students in her language. The expression on her face had him transfixed.

It was the face of a leader.

Her eyes softened on the students, reaching out to them with a sense of comfort and understanding, but also a sense of dedication. She would protect every single one of them with her life. And her words told them so. “I want you all to know there is nothing to fear at your school. But right now, for your own safety, the school has been put under a level-two lockdown. I need you to stay in your classrooms while the police and firemen do their job of putting the fire out and inspecting the woods for any further harm. Your parents will be called in a few moments. Teachers, please take your students back to your classrooms. Until we know what happened, please keep them there with blinds drawn and doors locked. I will make the rounds shortly and let you know when the lockdown is lifted. And please keep them safe.”

Nick addressed the crowd. His words started accurately enough, but he soon put his own spin on her message that ended with, “Everyone back to your class. Teachers, you should know better than to allow the students to be out in the hall. You need to follow the correct protocol for times of risk and danger. Don’t let it happen again.”

“Hmph.” A teacher off to Owen’s right made the sound. He twisted his neck to catch her scrunching her pudgy lips in distaste at Miriam. “That’s all she has to say?” He heard her say to another teacher under her breath. “I shouldn’t be surprised she doesn’t care. It’s not like she’s one of us.”

The other teacher nodded; her glasses slipped to the tip of her nose and angry eyes flashed above the gold rims. “Let’s go, students. You heard what she said. Get back to class.”

Slowly the students turned their frightened stares on their teachers and allowed themselves to be corralled back to their respective places. One by one, they filtered out of the halls; doors were pulled closed. Some with soft clicks, others not so much.

At the end of the hall, two people stood in the dim shadows. Owen squinted and noticed their black clothing. One was a girl from his first period class. She had her arms crossed over her chest and leaned against the lockers.

The other was Ben Thibodaux.

Even though the boy was all the way at the other end, Owen could feel his leveled stare on him. But Ben would have to wait.

“Hold up,” Owen called to Miriam and Nick as they entered her office. Miriam kept walking, but Nick stopped and turned back. “I need you to stay out here for a little while. I need to speak to Ms. Hunter alone.”

“Alone.” Nick smirked. “And just how do you plan on doing that?”

“Steph, do you have that pad of paper again?”

“Oh, sure, Mr. Matthews.” Her bangles clinked away as she pulled her drawer open and removed the yellow legal pad. “Here you go.” She flashed him her cute smile.

“Perfect. Thank you.” He took the pad and directed Nick to sit in one of the waiting chairs. “I’m going to need to talk to you also, so wait there.”

“Sure, that’s fine. Plus if you need me to interpret, I’ll be right here.”

Owen stepped into the room and shut the door behind him. Miriam stood behind her desk, looking not at all surprised that it was only him who entered. He walked up to her desk and tossed the pad on it; the top few pages fluttered like a flapping sail in the wind, then settled still. He wasn’t going to need that, and they both knew it.

Owen lifted his hands and signed, “Your interpreter is a liar.”

* * *

Owen’s remark tripped Miriam up, but only for a second. With impactful hands, she signed, “The only person who is a liar is you! You’ve been lying to me since the first moment I met you. I directly asked you if you signed, and you said—”

“I know what I said. I said no, I don’t sign, and it’s the truth. I don’t, but I do understand it.”

“You’re signing now.”

He regarded her quizzically. “I guess I am.” An expression of wonder crept onto his face. His eyes implored her as though she had the answer as to why. “With you, I don’t seem to have the same problem.”

“Who do you have a problem signing with?”

A simple question, but he either wasn’t going to answer or it wasn’t as simple as she thought. She tilted her head, the fight in her evaporating. She came around to his side and took the seat Nick usually sat in. With a wave of her hand, she invited Owen to sit. She hoped her choice in seats would make it more comfortable to share.

But he didn’t move. His legs braced apart. His blackened arms crossed at his chest. He was as formidable as the stepping stones. A staunch protector of the secret within him. She’d thought the secret was that he could sign, but apparently there was more.

“I won’t tell. Promise.” It wasn’t too often she made a promise like that, but every now and then a student would need reassurance before they would fess up. She tried to picture Owen as a young schoolboy, his hair rebelliously long. His eyes darkly defiant, much like the students she faced off with in her office.

She always wondered why it took so long for them to realize she wasn’t the bad guy. That, in fact, she was on their side. She only wanted what was best for each and every one of them. No matter how many times she said that to the people of Stepping Stones, she still met resistance. Like she did with Owen.

And he wasn’t even a local.

What was she doing wrong? She had to wonder if Mother had been right. Maybe she was too much of a freak to belong anywhere. “I thought Stepping Stones would be a place I could call home,” she signed. “I have a few happy memories from when I visited my grandparents. Even with them gone, I thought it would be like it was when I was young.” She shook her head and let her gaze drop with her hands to her lap. She squeezed her palms together before she continued. “But I was wrong. No one trusts me, and all I am met with is—” she swirled a hand in his direction to insinuate his seditious stance “—this.”

Owen’s arms dropped to his side. A shamefaced expression replaced his previous noncompliance. He took the chair beside her and settled on its edge. “I’m sorry.”

She waited for him to elaborate, raising her eyebrows in question.

“I have an eight-year-old son. He’s deaf.” Owen looked across her desk, away from her. “I have trouble signing to him.”

Miriam hadn’t been expecting that. Owen had a son? She checked his empty ring finger. She shook off the direction of her mind. Why it even veered that way she didn’t know. Stumped, she sat in silence. She processed his reason for withholding this information a few moments ago. His defiance hadn’t been because of her nonacceptance into this community after all. It had been out of his shame for having a deaf son.

She didn’t know what was worse.

“My mother refused to sign to me, too,” she admitted, hoping her pain wasn’t obvious. But maybe she could show Owen the error of his ways before his son paid the devastating price of a life of silent solitude.

“I didn’t say I refuse to sign to him. I said I— Never mind. Forget I said anything.” His jaw ticked, and he exhaled deeply. “Do you really want to know why you don’t fit into this town?”

She straightened in her chair. The very question had been at the forefront of her mind since she’d arrived. She shrugged a single shoulder. Could she get any more noncommittal?

“Your pal, Nick, isn’t relaying your messages accurately. His translations aren’t even close to what you’re saying. He’s been painting you as the most vicious man-eater on Shark Week.”

Miriam locked her hands together as her head shook. Nick wouldn’t do such a thing to her. He was her best friend. Her only friend.

My only friend.
The thought repeated over and over. Was there a reason he was her only friend? How long had he been doing this—this highly unethical practice for an interpreter? Owen had to be lying. He had to be.

She searched his face but saw nothing but remorse. And not the lying kind. Instead, his expression said it hurt him to be the one to raise the bad-news flag. Bad news that unfortunately made sense. From day one, Nick had set her up to fail.

Miriam stood and marched to the door, her blood boiling to the point where she could cook a lobster. She gripped the doorknob and pulled.

The door didn’t budge.

A look to her right confirmed why. Owen had come along beside her and stopped the door with one of his strong, lean hands. She latched her gaze on to the simple barricade as though it was the first hand she had ever seen. These appendages allowed her to move forward in life, but this one now stopped her in her tracks.

He faced her, inches away. So close she could feel the heat of his breath on her cheek. A turn of her face brought his soot-covered lips into her view. They moved and she recognized the silent word on them as
no.

He gently covered her hand on the doorknob without letting her gaze go. His thumb rubbed over the back of her hand, bringing confirmation that he meant no harm in his blockade.

But she had a few choice words for Nick on the tips of her fingers.

Owen’s piercing dark irises softened on her, and the heat from his hand dulled her anger.

Her hand fell away from the door still grasped in his hand. Miriam curled her fingers around his and squeezed with the real emotion bubbling at the surface.

Pain.

Then the first tear fell.

With his other hand, Owen pulled her head to his shoulder, massaging her as her weeping face nestled into the side of his neck. His rough afternoon stubble scratched against her cheeks and forehead. The abrasiveness didn’t compare to how broken and raw her heart felt at the moment.

Growing up with her mother had toughened her to people’s doubts in her capabilities, but that didn’t make it hurt less.

But the pain would have to wait. She had major cleanup duty to take care of first.

With her eyes still downcast, Miriam broke away from Owen knowing what she must do before more bridges were burned. Nick’s time here on Stepping Stones was over. She would think about the end of the friendship later. Her duty as principal came first.

“I have to fire him,”
she signed with her head bowed to hide the pain the very idea caused her. This stranger in front of her wouldn’t understand that she wasn’t just firing an employee. She was losing her best friend.

Owen’s hand brushed her cheek so tenderly she barely flinched under his unexpected touch. Miriam knew he was trying to get her attention. She strained to compose herself before listening to what he had to say. Even though she wasn’t crying anymore, she still ached.

He lifted her chin, not waiting for her to find her legs to stand strong. Owen forced her to look into his normally critical eyes. The judgment she expected to find from the serious law enforcement officer didn’t match the compassion she witnessed. Perhaps he did understand the pain of losing a best friend.

His hand cupped the side of her face. She waited for him to pull away so he could speak to her, but the language he used now didn’t need words. The expression in his eyes told her more than enough. They told her he understood.

She turned her face into his palm and signed, “It hurts.”

He nodded once, then dropped his hands and stepped back. His posture changed from understanding to passive indifference. “It doesn’t matter if it hurts,” he signed in quick, jerky movements. “Nick can’t know. I think he’s guilty in more dealings than misrepresenting you.”

“The drugs?” The shake of her head denied what Owen was saying. “No. He wouldn’t be involved in something illegal like that.”

“He has been before.”

“What? When?” She squinted in confusion.

“About ten years ago he was arrested for possession.”

Stunned, Miriam grasped at the possibility that Nick might be involved in the drug problem. She wanted to deny what that meant. If he was responsible for the drugs getting on the island, then she, too, was responsible. She’d brought him there. If it hadn’t been for her, Nick would never have set foot on any of the stepping stones.